I had made a mistake. A terrible, horrible, irreversible mistake.
I had laughed.
And now, Luis Miguel and his pack of reformed hyenas thought they had won.
But I wasn't that easy. They put me through so much and thought I'd forgive them after a street concert? They were in for a shock.
So, I did what any self-respecting, still-holding-a-grudge girl would do. I ignored them.
Completely.
I turned around, hoisted the trash higher in my arms—ignoring the way my muscles screamed in protest, and walked away like they had never burst into a full-blown musical number for me.
The silence behind me lasted all of three seconds.
Then…
"Wait, wait, wait, hold on—" Gonzalo was the first to get a grip.
I heard his hurried footsteps, followed by the distinct sound of someone tripping over nothing.
"Ow—damn it, Pedro, that was my foot!"
"Then move your damn foot, bro!"
I kept walking.
