Pretty Little Mistakes - Section Two
Publishing rights © Heather Elaine McElhatton Pretty Little Mistakes, Million little Mistakes, Pretty Little Murder, characters, names and related indincia are trademarks © Harpercollins Inc. All Rights Reserved. |
From section 1 2.
You enroll at the university and get an apartment with your boyfriend a few blocks
from campus. The apartment is shitty. It has a refrigerator that lets mold grow in the
drawers, a toilet that routinely overflows, and noisy downstairs neighbors that
always sound like they’re killing cats, having loud sex, or both. You try to fix the
place up by painting the walls dark colors and hanging thrown-out African art you
found in the alley - you were hoping to create an urban Cinco-de-Mayo look, but
instead the place looks like a low-rent voodoo carnival.
Money is tight and you begin to bicker with your boyfriend over little things. The
unpaid electricity bill, the empty pizza boxes, the missing beer, your bras drip-
drying in the shower, his socks stinking on the floor. You thought living together
would be sexy, that he’d help organize the closets and give you backrubs instead of
wanting sex all the time, but he says he thought you’d be wearing a lot more
lingerie and maybe even cook once in awhile, so he thinks you’re about even on the
disappointment score.
Things are no better at school. It’s not what you thought it would be. You’re always
lost and everything’s expensive. There’s this general rush around you – like a wild
river current you can’t quite navigate. Confusion. You also need to decide on your
major. How the hell are you supposed to know what you want to be when you grow
up? You could get an MFA in art and maybe become the next great artist of this
century, or you could go for PHD in sciences and maybe become a doctor. Who do
you want to be?
If you decide to major in art, go to section 4
If you decide to major in sciences, go to section 5
You enroll at the university and get an apartment with your boyfriend a few blocks
from campus. The apartment is shitty. It has a refrigerator that lets mold grow in the
drawers, a toilet that routinely overflows, and noisy downstairs neighbors that
always sound like they’re killing cats, having loud sex, or both. You try to fix the
place up by painting the walls dark colors and hanging thrown-out African art you
found in the alley - you were hoping to create an urban Cinco-de-Mayo look, but
instead the place looks like a low-rent voodoo carnival.
Money is tight and you begin to bicker with your boyfriend over little things. The
unpaid electricity bill, the empty pizza boxes, the missing beer, your bras drip-
drying in the shower, his socks stinking on the floor. You thought living together
would be sexy, that he’d help organize the closets and give you backrubs instead of
wanting sex all the time, but he says he thought you’d be wearing a lot more
lingerie and maybe even cook once in awhile, so he thinks you’re about even on the
disappointment score.
Things are no better at school. It’s not what you thought it would be. You’re always
lost and everything’s expensive. There’s this general rush around you – like a wild
river current you can’t quite navigate. Confusion. You also need to decide on your
major. How the hell are you supposed to know what you want to be when you grow
up? You could get an MFA in art and maybe become the next great artist of this
century, or you could go for PHD in sciences and maybe become a doctor. Who do
you want to be?
If you decide to major in art, go to section 4
If you decide to major in sciences, go to section 5
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