When I was twelve, my mother told me to never be afraid of anyone, or anything. she told me no one could reduce me. I understand her meaning, but I have disappointed her. I live here. This is my town, these are my neighbors, my friends. Kale is not aloud here, not right now. He should go back to frickin Colorado, with Katie. He shouldn't be here for another few weeks, this is my summer. I shouldn't have to hide in my room behind the curtains. I should sit on my porch, read my book, and eat my snacks! Maybe even raise my middle finger to him. That's what i'll do next time I see him...Now that I think about that, I haven't seen Kale in a few years. Last year I was with friends camping. Note to self: beer is a bad idea. And the year before I went to New York with mom. Note to self: Don't travel with mom when shes on business. The year before that I think I was at camp.
I have butterflies in my stomach from this new realization, as if he has magically changed. I should slap myself for such assumptions. The kid is messed up, he's a freak. He never leaves the house when hes here, the only place he goes is the beach, and I refuse to allow him to steal my spot. It was fine sharing the beach when we were kids, but now were different. Its not the same.
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