She was torn. ‘Yeah,’ Chris said, looking at Cassie with eyes filled with pain. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ he whispered brokenly. ‘I kno...,’ Cassie said, almost gently, before she rose, put on her clothes and went to the other room. — Cassie kneaded the dough, taking out all her frustration on it. It had been two weeks since she had walked out of Chris’s room, and it had been two of the longest weeks of her life. She could not deal with it. Things between Chris and her had gone from good to. She looked at me, then back at the wall, then back at me. I met her quizzical look. “Either Britney’s got a really bad cold, or you’ve been using her for target practice. Either way, you’re both disgusting.” And with that she turned and walked out of the room. I jumped up to look at the poster of Britney Spears above my bed. I found the missing squirts. A thick white booger draped down over her lips from her nose. It had hit her forehead and slid down. The poster paper was darkened. More

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