Memory Loss

I forgot the revenge part. That's always the best part.

So, after the fight, I get a call from a boy (of course) and he's mad I went to this party because I was supposed to hang out with him and he doesn't party. I'm much to tactful to say it, but he doesn't party, what's he expect from me?
Anyway, one word leads to another and now I'm being lectured about being 'one of those girls'. Really? Are we going there? I, above all things, am decidedly not one of those girls. I inform him of this. He disagrees, I hang up.

So, so, so

I see this boy last night. He tells me about his week, his work, his brother's hurt ear, and eventaully nicely inquires about my arm.

I tell him. In detail. Excruciating detail, about the night his big brother drunkenly ripped open my arm. Poor, misled, lied to baby brother. He thought his elder got hurt at work. That's what he told him. Baby brother questions everything.

Shattering fragile worlds is fun. Baby brother asked me if I 'even know' who I am. I do. I'm not one of them, but I am terribly vindictive. I hope his home life isn't too tense.