Ugh.

Moms.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my mom to death. When she’s in a good mood, and doesn’t try to ask me all about my life. Or when she doesn’t try to pry, and doesn’t ask me to do stupid errands just to try to “help” me regain relationships. Ha. Like that could ever happen.

I trudged down the street, horribly unhappy with my life situation. I stared down at the tin foil covered container. The last four pieces of pie. And ya know who my dear, sweet mother decided needed those four pieces of pie the most?

The Lowoods.

And who do you think has a prized son named Everett?

The Lowoods.

Bingo! That is the correct answer!

Grr. I stamped my feet down on the soggy grass, making little indents in the soil. It didn’t even make sense to give the Lowood’s four pieces of pie. They have five kids. Plus, Mr and Mrs Lowood.

No, it didn’t make sense. And that’s why I knew my mother just wanted me to be friends with Everett again.

Thanks for the try, Mom, but I don’t think pie’s gonna fix this.