A Little Thing Called Love

Cold

I was the head cheerleader of the basket ball game, I guess.

The game was over. Thirty- two to twenty- four. We won.

I went out side of the high school I went to. I was sitting on a bench when the victory drinks- there was champain but that was being sprayed all over the team- were being handed out.

I'm not much of a drinker.

My phone rang... "Hello?"

"Baby? this is your dad. Mom and I are in L.A. for the weekend-"

"Did you guys even know that I had a game today?"

"Well, not really, I can call Justin to see if he could bring you-"

I cut him off mid-sentence, which he  deserved, "No! I'm not riding home with a drunk," I have no idea why I was all of a sudden so upset with my father.

"Okay, but when you can't find a ride home don't come crying to me."

It took me a second to calm myself down, "Don't worry; I won't be crying any time soon."

He hung up on me. I guess I kind of deserved it.

The star of our team walked by me.