the "it" girl

Clyde shook his head. “They don’t want nothin’ to do with us an’ what we do… You’re right, we’re jus tryin’ t o help, but just like evey other stinkin person in this damn country, they’ll starve before they’ll take care of themselves.” He scowled, but relaxed as she ran her thumb along his jaw before looking her in the eyes, sad and worried. “We’re gonna get caught, sugar. An’ they ain’t gonna let us get away… I don’t want nothin’ to happen to ya, an’ the longer this goes one, the more I realize.” He sighed, looking at her mournfully. “Bonnie, I’m gonna take ya home.” He looked away, taking her hand from his face and returning it to her side.

Bonnie let out a huff of air and glared up at him, fingers drumming away angrily on her hips. “It’s not all about you, Clyde! There’s other poems in there; but last time I checked, you called my poetry stupid.” She cocked her head to the side, daring him to contradict her. “Now, give me my journal back.” When it wasn’t immediately returned to her hands, a smile came to her lips. But it wasn’t friendly––oh no. It was sinister. “Fine. Keep the stupid journal. See if I care.” She was a flurry of movement, dragging her suitcase out from under the bed and starting to fill it. If this didn’t get him to put down the book, she didn’t know what would.

Clyde looked at her with raised eyebrows as she smiled. Oh, damn, he’d done it now… “Bon, what are ya…” He paused confused when he saw the suitcase, but thrown into a panic when she started packing it. “Hey! Wait a second! Hang on here!” He tossed the book to her, looking slightly shell shocked. “Take tha dang thing!” When she didn’t stop putting thibgs in the suitcase, he walked ((see ran panickedly… Is that a word? *shrugs*)) over and pulled her away from the suitcase with a look of shock, disbelief, and slight pissed-off-ed-ness. “Wait a damn minute, Bonnie Parker! What tha hell?! It’s just a book! An’ I gave it back, besides!”

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“Give it back! That journal ain’t yours,              is it?”

Her hands rest on her hips as she stares at them, eyebrow raising in challenge as it moves to dangle over                       her head. 

oh. it’s on.

 “I swear to God, I will tear you to shreds if you don’t give that back.”

“Oh, is that so, sugar?” Clyde teased, holding the book over her head with a smirk. “Maybe it ain’t mine, but it’s all about me, ain’t it? Don’t that make it KINDA mine?”