Six Sentence Sunday
(I was going to write something new just for this, but I’m lazy. And I barely have anything written for my story update, so I’ll just post that. This is my version of Delly. She’s sassy. I like her. I like writing her because she’s basically me when she talks.)
“Okay, seriously, I’m going to need a calendar of your menstrual cycle,” Delly says, peering out from behind my locker door.
“What?” I reply, perplexed. I pack my Chemistry book into my bookbag and slam the door shut, rotating the dial of the combination lock out of habit.
Delly leans on the locker beside mine and crosses her arms. “Well, since you and Peeta seem to get into some dumb fight just about once a month, I figure PMS must be the only logical explanation. So I just need to know when I can expect to wear myself thin trying to be a friend to both of you separately.”