I shrug, "I don't know. If anything, he'll just leave it alone," I study him, looking down at our hands, "He can't boss me around forever. I'm almost nineteen and he can deal with it."
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
I smile back at him and trace my fingers around his palm, sighing as I remember what my father said. I glance up at him, "My...My dad is going to send me to school. Sometime this week. Even though I'll only be there for a year."
My social problem will /not/ help me with that. At all.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!