Paris

"Oh." I said. Now my tears were falling like rain drops. My moyo broke in half, then again in quarters, then again into eighths. Who was she? When did they meet? How did they meet? My head was swarming with maswali that I couldn't answer.
"I'm sorry."
"I, I, I have to go." I alisema trying to mask my tears. I failed miserably.
"Elle-" Prince alisema detecting my crying. I hung up. He called back, I didn't answer. He left a message. I couldn't bare to listen to it.
By this time I was practically sobbing, laying on my kitanda and eating ice cream. Paris came and tried to console me. Eventually I just...

Sorry it took so long. I’m leaving town tomorrow to stay with my friend at his house in Big kubeba so I don’t know when I’ll get around to typing part 8.

*****************

<Still Prince’s Point Of View>

They all laughed at me.

“Ok, let’s see. Blanket, wewe want cookies. Jermajesty wants to know how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop. Donte wants Kayla’s vintage corvette convertible, and Genevieve is imba Total Eclipse of the moyo in her head.”

Silence, that’s all I got.

“That is AWESOME!” Blanket exclaimed

“Can wewe teach us?” Jermajesty...