Then, right before his third birthday, he died. It gutted our family. Mom needed to grieve. No way would she have been able to handle me acting out on top of everything else. So, I continued to be the good girl. The rule follower. I can count on one hand the number of times my parents have ever needed to scold me.
Less than a year after Afonso passed, Dad left.
My family has been hit in the face with life again and again. There is never a good time to…I don’t know…be a kid. To make mistakes. To act impulsively. Guilt worms its way through my chest reminding me now still isn’t a good time. But then, when will it ever be? I’m sixteen years old. I want to be young and dumb. Not forever, but for a night. Just this one time. I want to make mistakes I can look back on. I want to know that I was wild and free. That I spread my wings and lived.
Afonso’s been gone for three years now. Dad’s been gone for two. It’s been a whirlwind for Mom and I, but things have gotten better. Mom has a boyfriend. He’s kinda weird but she smiles a lot more than she has in years, and I think she really loves him. He makes her happy. And I want her to be happy.
She’s been through so much.
It’s why I’m not complaining about the move. Well, not out loud at least. And why I stuffed back my tears and smiled ear to ear when she told me the good news. She deserves to be happy. I just…I want that for me, too.
“Okay. Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”
Monique’s smile widens. “Eeeeee! This is going to be so much fun!”
I don’t know if I share her enthusiasm, but I’m committed to this course nonetheless. For one night, I’m not going to be Bibiana Sousa—the good girl. I’m going to be the rebel. The wild child. A girl that goes with the flow, lets her hair down, and for once in her life, makes some freaking mistakes.
* * *
No one batsan eye as Monique and I stroll up to tonight’s party house. I have no idea whose it is, but I also don’t care. Suncrest Academy kids don’t throw ragers like this, and by crashing a Sun Valley High party, we’re less likely to run into anyone we know and have word get back to either of our parents.
“Come on, let’s grab a drink.” Monique hauls me through the front door and leads me in the obvious direction of the kitchen where a keg has been set up. Grabbing a red cup, she hands it to one of the guys manning the keg and he fills it for her, giving her an interested once-over.
“You here with anyone?” he asks, handing her the beer and tilting his head toward me in silent question. I shake my head, and wave off the offered alcohol, grabbing a water bottle from the open coolers instead. I know plenty of students who have zero issue with underage drinking but…I don’t know…coming to the party to hook up with a guy seems risqué enough for me for one night. Drinking when I’ve just barely turned sixteen feels like I would be pushing it.
“Nope. Just my girl,” Monique says, giving him a come-hither look as she takes a sip of her beer. The guys at Suncrest Academy don’t give Monique a second glance. I’m pretty sure it’s because they’re intimidated by her. She’s tall, a complete beast on the basketball court, and she has a spitfire personality. But it could also be because they’re idiots. Actually, if I had to put money on it, it’d be because they’re all idiots.
He tugs her close and she squeaks, though secretly I know she’s thrilled by the attention. Like me, Monique is kept in a sheltered little box, rarely let out to play. We might say tonight is my night, but it’s equally for her. We both need this escape from the constricting lives we lead, and Monique deserves to feel like the goddess she is.
“I’m gonna go mingle,” I tell her, giving her the out she needs to have fun and not worry about me. She makes a face, about to argue, and I shake my head. “Have fun. You can’t stick by my side all night, anyway. Remember?”
She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Fine. But find me if you need me, okay? And don’t go home with anyone.”
“Yes, Mom!” I snicker and turn around, following the sound of music coming from the back of the house.
I cut through the kitchen and dining room until I get to a set of double doors that leads to the back patio. A DJ booth has been set up. People are drinking and dancing, having a good time. I crack open my water bottle, taking a sip as I soak in the cool evening air, letting my gaze wander over the crowd. Everyone is clustered in these little groups as though natural cliques have formed and I kinda hate it. It’s so high school.
I continue to scan the clusters when a guy on my far right grabs my attention. He’s cute. My age with light blond hair and broad shoulders. He’s laughing at something his friend says when our gazes connect. He stares for a second before lifting his cup as if to say hello. I smile. He smiles back. And then he goes back to talking. But every few seconds his eyes come back to me.
I linger where I stand for a moment, debating whether or not to head in his direction. It’s obvious he’s no longer listening to whatever his friends are saying. And he’s not being shy about staring either. His perusal of my body lets me know he’s interested but—
No.
Come on, Bibi. You can do this.
I take a deep breath. Be a rebel, I tell myself. I’m not going to just stand here like an idiot hoping he’ll approach me. I’m going to be bold. I can do this.
I take a step forward when a voice behind me stops me in my tracks. “I wouldn’t waste my time on Carson Bailey if I were you.”
I whirl around, a scowl on my face as my eyes land on a boy hovering close behind me. “He has a small dick,” he says, a savage grin on his face.
“Who said I was interested in his dick?” I ask, quirking a brow. And okay, yeah, maybe I am, but I don’t have to admit it to this guy. Whoever the hell he is.
He snorts. “With a body like yours in a dress like that, you’re looking for something, and it’s not cookies at a bake sale. My money is on dick.”
I roll my eyes. Jerk. “Maybe I just wanted to feel pretty.”
He licks his lips, his eyes roving over my body in obvious appreciation. “Nah. You already know you’re pretty. You want something else.” His dark gaze is challenging as he boldly steps forward, our chests almost touching. A wave of heat floods through me at his proximity, and I take a second to drink him in. He’s not just cute like the other guy. He’s hot. He has dark brown hair and equally dark eyes that lift the smallest amount at the corners. He’s Hispanic. Not Mexican, though. His jaw line is sharp. His brows angular. Not Brazilian like me either.
