Cartoon Pic And Quotes

Exciting! Have been waiting long for Job One Day Job One turns out per Jer is: high and noble as all getout Per Jer: I will stand for freedom For poor and sick Will defend weak From oppressors. More Defining, with help of HandiPics: Freedom = cartoon bird flies above land, smile on beak. Poor = sad child, pockets sticking out of pants. Sick = thin guy in bed, “X”s for eyes. Weak = guy in desert, trying to reach water glass, failing. Oppressor = tall guy with monster face sticks stick into body of weak as, in four HandiPics in row, weak gets more weak with each poke. Why do oppressors wish to poke weak? I say. They’re bad, says Jer. Have to be stopped. From doing that, I say. Correcto, says Jer. And you’re a big part of the solution. What the what! as Jer might say. Never have I felt being me to be so worth it so far.

The next morning, Peter is waiting in the parking lot for me when I get off the bus. “Hey,” he says. “Are you seriously taking the bus every day?” “My car is being fixed, remember? My accident?” He sighs like this is somehow offensive to him, me taking the bus to school. Then he grabs my hand and holds it as we walk into school together. This is the first time I’ve walked down the school hallway holding hands with a boy. It should feel momentous, special, but it doesn’t, because it’s not real. Honestly, it feels like nothing. Emily Nussbaum does a double take when she sees us. Emily is Gen’s best friend. She’s staring so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t take a quick pic on her phone to send to Gen. Peter keeps stopping to say hi to people, and I stand there smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Me and Peter Kavinsky. At one point I try to let go of his hand, because mine is starting to feel sweaty, but he tightens his grip. “Your hand is too hot,” I hiss. Through clenched teeth he says, “No, your hand is.” I’m sure Genevieve’s hands are never sweaty. She could probably hold hands for days without getting overheated. When we get to my locker, we finally drop hands so I can dump my books inside. I’m shutting my locker door when Peter leans in and tries to kiss me on the mouth. I’m so startled I turn my head, and we hit foreheads. “Ow!” Peter rubs his forehead and glares at me. “Well, don’t just sneak up on me like that!” My forehead hurts too. We really banged them hard, like cymbals. If I looked up right now, I would see blue cartoon birdies. “Lower your voice, dummy,” he says through clenched teeth. “Don’t you call me a dummy, you dummy,” I whisper back. Peter heaves a big sigh like he’s really annoyed with me. I’m about to snap at him that it’s his fault, not mine, when I catch a glimpse of Genevieve gliding down the hallway. “Gotta go,” I say, and I dart off in the opposite direction. “Wait!” Peter calls out. But I keep darting.