I don't really love school. Sorry. Just not made that way. I do enough to get by. I know I'm not scholarship material. There are some days I could just sleep through classes. And then I wake up. Like today.
Sarah punched a girl at school. Yeah, I don't think she'll be up on assault charges or anything.
I guess this girl said something about Sarah being a slut. And how she sleeps around. Something to the effect how she used a motel room at her grandfather's motel in the next town over for her little get aways. Well, she might as well be a prostitute. I guess she made some money this summer. I have no idea if this story is true or not.
And well, punching must have been in the cards today. I go to pick up Lon, and he'd been in some sort of punching match with someone at the feedstore. His lip was a mess. All bloody and whatnot. He didn't want to go to the emergency room though. He didn't talk about. I didn't ask.
I ended up getting him a malt at the Dairy Kreme and I ate one of their jumbo burgers. I just couldn't make it til supper.
It was a hell of a day. I was already asleep by eight with my TV and the lights still on. I think they think I'm sick. I was just tired. School takes a lot out of me.
Then about 10:30, Sarah woke me with a phone call. She was terribly worried that I was taking all that crap about her seriously that had gotten her in trouble.
"I don't even know what you're talking about," I said which was true since I was dreaming about running through a forest like a deer.
It looks like she's suspended for the rest of the week and has to see a counselor.
According to Sarah, Trisha asked for it. "She hates me, you know."
"Because I was a cheerleader last year. I beat her out. Fuck, cheer-leading," Sarah was in her own little world of misery.
"I'm sorry about that."
"You have nothing to be sorry about."
This was intense. There was no reason for me to say another word, but just to listen. And I did.
And then thats when she told me about the miscarriage over the summer. I didn't ask anymore but just set there with my hand on my cheek wishing I could make things better, but I couldn't.
Now I have the worst sore throat ever. Sarah has a way of making me sick.