Shoot Me. #JustWriteIt

*PROLOGUE*

          "Mikayla!" Sarah called from behind me.

          I smiled as I started to walk backwards so I could face her. "Yes?" Usually, third graders didn't have much to talk about or very much drama, but Sarah was my best friend and she would never stop talking.

          "Michael told me that his friend told him that he like you." She informed as she caught up with me and my fast pace.

          We climbed onto the bus and sat in the sixth seat from the front. "Well," I spoke, "who's the friend?"

          She shrugged. "I think he said his name was Caleb. Who cares?! someone likes you!" she exclaimed, too loud for a Monday.

          "Caleb Norman?" I thought aloud, "Isn't he that really smart boy with the glasses and freckles?" I poked my face for emphasis.

          She rolled her eyes. "I don't know or care, anymore..." she muttered, suddenly not caring for the topic due to my joking attitude.

          I laughed at the fact I got a reaction and the bus roared to life, beginning to roll down the road.

          A few stops after the first, I stood up and exited the bus doors, telling Mrs. Laura, the bus driver, "goodbye." My parents' car sat in the driveway like usual and I smiled as I hoped my father was home before I was. I loved the way I was greeted by him when I walked through the door. He'd always give me these huge bear hugs and we'd wrestle, or roughhouse, a bit before my mother forced the cruel and unusual punishment upon me.

          I opened my front door and my mother smiled at me.

          I wasn't as close to her as I was my father. So, yeah, I'm a daddy's girl, get used to it because I don't care.

          My dad trotted down the hall and his smile brightened when he spotted me standing in the doorway. I dropped my book bag and he ran to me, lifting me in a hug and flipping me over his shoulder.

          "Honey?" he called to my mother, "I thought I already took the trash out?" he joked as I continued to laugh. He pretended to dunk me, head first, into the filthy garbage can.

          "Okay, okay..." my mom took charge, "the garbage needs to work on her homework." My dad set me back on my feet and my mother ruffled my shoulder length hair as she passed to get another glass of supposed tea.

          I groaned and reorganized my hair. "A little longer, Mom?" I whined.

          My father stuck out his bottom lip and turned to her. He batted his eyelashes and sniffled. "Pretty, pretty please?" he pleaded as if he were a child.

          She chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. "Go ahead..." she let out in fake exhaust.

          I pumped my fist in victory and grabbed my father's hand. "Let's go play football!" I exclaimed. He chuckled and threw me back over his shoulder. Before he could get me outside, I called to my mother, causing him to stop moving. "Mom, could you not ruffle my hair, anymore? I'm in the third grade." I informed her.

          My father laughed again and carried me outside. "Mikayla's getting too old. Should we start making her pay the bills?" he called back to my mother.

          She burst into laughter in return and my dad silently closed the door behind him. He set me down and I watched his eyes as they gazed the yard. They lit up when they spotted the football and he sprinted to fetch it. He bent down to retrieve it and when he pulled back up, he threw it from where he stood, but I failed at my effort to catch.