or when for the heck of it we play heads up, seven up.
last day of advisement with our senior mentors, they decided games would be played.
first, a competitive round or two of a backpack scavenger hunt. our small group won with ten of the eleven hunting items.
second came an innocent game of heads up, seven up, the event adored by children.
while my head was down—and mind you, i was sneakily cheating—i felt a thumb touch my upright one. but the hand did not simply lift away from me once more.
no, his fingers dragged across my shoulder and part of my back before his cursed hand lifter away from me.
i wanted to vomit, because i knew who it was after guessing wrong. i wished to retreat into myself.
never seen.
never touched.
again.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
