“I’ll buy you dinner for an entire week if you let me skip.”
Pointing at me from the doorway of my room, she demands, “Hard pass. Get ready, miss.”
She disappears from my sight, and I open my mouth to argue, but she interrupts like she can see me, which is freaky.
“Don’t argue with me,” she calls from the hallway. “And wear something appropriate—no booty shorts or anything like that. We have to make a good impression!”
Damn, is that what she thinks of me? I wasn’t planning on wearing my “booty shorts.”
“I’ll wear my bikini then,” I call back and let out a laugh when I hear her gasp. “I’m joking! I’m joking!” I exclaim with a wide smile as she rushes back into the room with a scowl.
I love pushing her buttons, and deep down, I know she kinda loves it too. It keeps things interesting when things are anything but that.
Mom stands in the doorway for a couple of seconds before finally leaving me to get dressed. Making sure to lock my bedroom door, I open my two closet doors and peer at all my clothes hanging neatly.
Going comfy is the best route. It’s not like I’m meeting the Queen of England. It’s probably just another old couple. What other young people would want to move here?
People my age like parties, blaring music—basically everything loud. Here has everything but that.
Gathering the clothes that I’ve chosen in my arms, I undress. A pair of light-blue mom jeans with holes at the knees cover my long legs, and a black crop top covers my toned stomach. Not having the energy to style my hair, I just throw it up in a messy bun with some short pieces of hair defining my face.
Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I nod. It’s the best they’re going to get from me today.
“At least you’re not showing your ass,” Mom grumbles from where she stands at the front door, waiting for me as I walk down the steps.
Her eyes stay glued to my stomach.
“I’m not showing anything,” I say, looking down at myself.
She snorts and nods.
“Whatever,” I mutter back, getting annoyed. “It’s not like I want to welcome our stupid new neighbors.”
I walk through the open door, immediately getting hit by the fresh summer air, and she closes the front door as I make my way down the steps.
“It’s not the 1970s, you know. We don’t have to greet our neighbors,” I continue.
I really don’t feel like socializing with people today. I hate having to plaster a fake smile on my face and pretend to be someone I’m not. It wasn’t tiring at first; however, now, it gets harder to do every time.
She sighs and stops walking abruptly. “I’m trying here, Trinity. This is the nice thing to do. You would want people to welcome you if you were new. Wouldn’t you?”
No.“Yes.”
“Good. There’s a bit of sense still in that brain of yours,” she mutters.
Rude. Little does she know, I was lying just to make her feel better.
As we walk closer to the house, I notice how rich they seem. Expensive cars that I’m afraid to touch, Louis Vuitton bags and suitcases lying all over the driveway. Just looking at their luggage, I can tell they have some serious money.
Did a Mafia family move out here? Oh God, I’m going to have to move. If I witness a crime, I’ll be a target, and I’ll die miserably.
“Mafia?” I sneer lowly at Mom.
Whipping her head in my direction, she laughs. “Forget what I said. There’s nothing up there,” she replies.
I dodge her hand when it comes up to my head to knock on it.
“Whatever. I’m going to sayI told you sowhen I unfortunately witness a crime that leaves me even more traumatized.”
