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1
VERA
"We're moving."
The top of my black nail polish bottle slips from my fingers, falling against my beige carpet. Spots of paint splatter across the soft fibers, but I barely notice the mess as my head cranks backward and I stare up at my mom's stoic expression.
"What?" I ask, my tone sharp. I reach down and curl my fingers around my phone, ready to bolt. To where, I don't know. To Sacha's, maybe. Or Leena's. I don't really care at this point. My best friends would save me from whatever hell my mom is pouring down on me.
I can hear the rubbing of my mom's tights as she walks around me before sitting on the corner of my bed, the springs creaking obnoxiously. I glance down at my fingers, the glossy black paint is perfectly painted, except my blank pinkie finger that stares back at me, asking me what the fuck I'm waiting for.
I sigh, grabbing the top of my nail polish and screwing it back on the bottle. No use in trying to finish it now. Whatever she’s about to say has my hands shaking like mad.
"Vera."
I keep my head tipped toward the floor but lift my eyes up to meet hers. She watches me sympathetically, an eager look creeping onto her face, though her eyes stay lowered with a hesitancy, like she's so damn excited to tell me her news, but she knows I'm not going to like it.
I know it, too.
"We're moving," she repeats.
Her lips move. I even hear the words she says, but none of it registers. I don't think I really understand much of anything at this point. It's all static in my brain. I refuse. I absolutely refuse.
I unlock my phone with shaky fingers, pulling up ourBitches Aren't Snitchesgroup chat and start typing out a text. The words don't even come out correctly, each one being autocorrected as they turn into a non-sentence.
My phone slips from my hands, and my nostrils flare when I look up, seeing my mom standing above me with my phone pinched between her slim fingers.
"Listen to me, Vera. This is important."
I push my black bangs from my eyes, my jaw clenching as I stare at her. "I don't want to know what you have to say. I'm not leaving this house. I'm not leaving my friends. You might as well save your breath, Mother."
Her eyes narrow into small slits and all I can see is too much makeup as she stares down at me. My room grows cold from our standoff, and it feels like the creamy walls turn black, encasing her in darkness. "Listen to me, please. Would you just drop the attitude for one damn second?"
She props her hand on her black skirt, ironed with not one crease on it. Her navy blouse is made from a fine silk and tucked beneath the hem of her skirt. She looks every bit of the marketing coordinator that she's meant to. Too bad I'm not in the mood for her today.
Although lately, it seems I'm never in the mood for her.
"What do you want?" I sigh, lifting my hand and snapping my phone from her grasp, the tips of my fingers arched out to not ruin my freshly coated nails.
She squats down, her toes becoming more visible through her tights. Her nails are red. Dark, deep, blood red. She always gets her nails done at a fancy salon.
I paint mine with Walgreens polish.
See how different we are?
"Vera." She snaps her fingers in my face. I glance up at her again, although now she's closer to my eye level. "I met someone, baby."
My nose burns, my eyebrows lowering until they’re nearly covering my eyes. I can feel the muscles tense in nearly every part of my body. Pure, raw anger begins boiling in my veins.
I say nothing. I donothing.
I anticipate as many things as I can in life. Any bad thing that may happen, I always attempt to predict it. I don't like to be blindsided. But this—thisis something I never fucking expected.
She reaches out, settling her warm palm over my sweatpants-covered knee. I slap her hand away, my knuckles knocking against hers. She looks hurt as she pulls her hand back to her side. "You would like him, Vera. His name is—"
"I don't fucking care what his name is, and I'm not leaving! You go ahead. Move on with your life. Start over. Forget everything else." I stand up, my nails accidentally swiping across the carpet. Streaks of black are bold against the beige. I swallow down a scream as she stands up and takes a step toward me.
I take a step backward, anger and so much damn hurt building in my chest, I feel like I'm going to explode.
