Is My Name Dorothy? No Then Why

She Raced For Him, Propelled By The Strength Of A Thousand Regrets.

Because Whipping An Atlas At Jackson's Head While He Was Flirt-touching That Frankie Girl In Geography Would Have Been Very Satisfying. And Beating Him With The Eiffel Tower Snowglobe While He Kissed Cleo In French Would Have Been Tres Cathartic. But She Hadn't. Instead She'd Been Egg-like: A Hard Shell On The Outside, And A Runny Mess On The Inside.

Wearing Nothing But Sweats And A Sheer Coat Of Lip Gloss, She Wiggle Through Her Frosted Window And Jumped Six Feet To Freedom, Feeling More Charged Than A Visa Card At Christmas Time.

Kuh-laire, Is Cam A Fattening Girl Scout Cookie Layered With Peanut Butter And A Chocolate Coating? No. Then Dont Make Him A Tagalong!

This Isn't Going To Be Pretty. Rules Will Be Broken. Friendships Will Be Tested. And Huge Risks Will Be Taken. But They're Small Prices To Pay For True Love And Freedom, Right?