I’m going to get fired.
“No. Just another normal day.”
Scarlett Dane
CHAPTER XII
I admire my curves as I stand in front of my vanity mirror.The muted, slate gray yoga set I found at the bottom of a box I have yet to unpack hugs every inch of me. Flared pants form around my hips while its cropped top wraps tightly around my waist. The neckline is tall enough to hide the vicious bites Ellis left behind while still pushing my breasts up deliciously high.
As long as my mother, or God forbid, my father, doesn’t peer too closely, I should be able to walk out of this house without them noticing the extra layer of makeup on my neck.
My hair is styled to perfection, half of it pinned up with a little butterfly clip, nestled in a bundle of curls. I packed on the makeup more than I usually would. I couldn’t walk into class, spot Mr. Ellis sitting behind the desk with his bulging muscles and the memory of his lips on mine, and not have my skin flush. The tiny bit of pigment I have wouldn’t stop the rush of blood from lighting up my cheeks.
With one last check to make sure my bruises are concealed, I grab my bag and tools for De Luca’s and exit my sanctuary.
I haven't left my room since I came home yesterday. My stomach growls with starvation, begging for sustenance, but I worry that the nerves will have me throwing up instantly if I eat. I’ll take an orange and some crackers with me in case the hunger becomes too powerful.
“Mom! I’m leaving!” I shout, coming to a stop at the staircase landing. My hand instinctively reaches for her keys. I always hang them on the hook when I come home, but as I extend my hand toward their spot, I only grab air.
Confused, I search the little basket my mom keeps on the decorative table beside the door, pushing aside all the collected trinkets and hunting for keys I know aren’t there.
The front door swings open rapidly, almost whacking me on the side of the head before I jump back.
“Oh! Sorry, baby! I wasn’t paying attention,” my mom says, sweat gleaming on her forehead as she catches her breath. Dust clings to her University of California sweatshirt as she wipes grime off of her palms.
“What are you doing?” I ask, picking cobwebs out of her hair.
“Cleaning. Donating. Making this house into a home,” she responds happily, staring at the open areas of our home with potential in her eyes.
Hugging her close, despite the dirt staining her clothes, I wish her a great day and remind her of how much I love her.
“I need your keys, Mom.” I hold my hand out for the ring dangling around her wrist.
Shaking her head, she takes a gulp of the coffee sitting on the ornamental glass table and says, “No, no. I need the car today to drop all this stuff off at the donation center. So, I will be taking you to school, and on our way home, you could show me this loft you leased. Capiche?”
When her Sicilian comes out, I know there’s no room for argument. She may be only half, but her attitude is full-blooded.
Must be where I get it from.
“Sure, Mom,” I say, biting back the sudden burst of annoyance. It’s my mother's car, so I have no right to be upset, but the car is where I think. I collect myself in the silent space, going over the emotions I could never share with anyone. And my loft… my loft is mine. It’s where I shine. I don’t want my parents’ input to dull the magic of it.
While my mom locks up the house, I scour the kitchen cabinets for packets of almonds and dark chocolate chunks. I can hear her getting sidetracked by something upstairs, so, quickly, I blend together a chocolate strawberry smoothie. My phone goes off while I’m washing the blender. It’s ClearWater Art Supplies announcing that my orders are out for delivery.
Dancing a little dance with my freezing pink metal straw sticking to the corner of my lip, I fail to notice my mom watching me under the door frame, filming me with the back of her phone.
“Delete that. Let’s go,” I order, ignoring her motherly teasing all the way to the car.
I faintly listen to Mom go over her productivity list of the day, thinking in the back of my mind what fifth period will be like. Today is exam day, my first one at this new school. Back home, test days were relaxed. We took our exam, and once finished, we sat and waited for the period to be over.
Usually, I was always one of the first done because I wanted that extra time to sketch or work on other projects. But today, no matter how ready I feel, I’m going to take all the time given. It’ll keep my eyes off of him.
For the past week, he’s been at the center of my thoughts, consuming my mind.
It’s unfair. Why does this man have such a hold on me?
I wonder if he’s thought of me at all. Do I plague his thoughts the way he does mine?
Do I affect him even a fraction of how he does me?
