The Ex

by Freida McFadden

skinny jeans

Hell nahh

And then something inside me snaps.

My poor pookie

Starbucks,

BOYCOTTTTTT

I have had enough! Enough!”

POV: me and my assignments

Francesca, aka Olive, stares at me, her eyes unkind. She doesn’t smile. She never smiles, as far as I’ve seen. When I look at her, she radiates evil. I know that sounds crazy, but she does.

Francesca. If I’ve ever had a mortal enemy, it’s her. I step inside the apartment and she regards me coolly. She folds her arms across her chest and stands up an inch straighter, as if she didn’t already tower over me. “Hello, Anna,” she says.

Francesca was pregnant.