Inane Verbiage

I

"My mother is a ghost."

It's strange, really, how little people believe that statement.

It isn't that surprising. 

Honestly.

It isn't an exception this time around - the raven-haired female beside me throws her head back and lets out a braying laugh when I tell her that.

"Y-you're kidding, right?" She manages to gasp out between laughs, practically rolling on the floor as I stare at her dispassionately. I've seen this very reaction thirty four times since I started counting two years ago, so I know what's going to happen next. "How?"

Knew it.

 "I have absolutely no idea." I tell her matter-of-factly, shrugging. Because it's true. I don't. I would've gotten a Nobel prize ages ago, if I knew. That necromancer father of mine managed to copulate with my mother (numerous times, I must add - that see-through mum of mine has a habit of recounting every single sordid detail of her love life with Dad, usually immediately after it happens. I know more about their 2378 coupling times (and that isn't counting the times when I was too young to understand a single word!) than I'd ever care to know. The fact that she likes singing loudly about it around the house and no one but Dad and I can hear her doesn't help), and I somehow popped out along the way.

 Raven Head (whose name is, rather aptly, Raven - at least, that is what she says her name is) evidently doesn't believe me, for she lets out a loud snort before shaking her head at me. "You shouldn't lie about your parents just to get popular, you know?"

 What balderdash. She's the one who claims she has a vamp for a dad.

 Everyone knows vamps have permanent EDS. (Which my uncle Eddie found out the hard way a couple hundred years ago, when his blonde wife gave birth to a black-haired child. Uncle Eddie is a redhead (or was, anyway - he dyed his hair blue to 'fit his mood' after it all. No one knows where he found such a colour in the 17th century, though - Dad suspects he somehow travelled into the future. Not the point, though.))

 I don't bother pointing out that she's a blatant hypocrite (and a lying one, at that), though - because at that moment, the very person I had been waiting for stalks out from the minimart with a great swish of a black cloak, the grand exit he no doubt was trying to make much diminished by the numerous bags in his hands that bear the 'Mimi's Minimart - Good & Cheap!' slogan proudly.

 Raven doesn't seem to think so as she lets out a long low whistle and starts adjusting her tank top, though, her head whipping around so fast that I'm surprised it doesn't spin all the way around and back. "Who is that?"

 "Latrina! Over here!" Said person booms, and I can't help letting out a groan of disgust at my name (honestly - who in their right mind names their kid after the word toilet in Latin? That father of mine, apparently.) as I leap down from the wall I was sitting on.

 "Wait you know Mr. Tall Pale and Handsome?"

 I screw up my face in disgust at that and ignore her, already making my way to said person (and frankly more than eager to escape her and her currently-very-low tank top).

 I hear her feet pattering behind me and quicken my footsteps, practically running towards the male in question and skidding to his side. "Okay we can-"

 "Hello." I can't help but flinch at the sultry greeting behind my back. Too late.

 I pointedly ignore Raven (why oh why did I make that intelligent decision to go all 'thank you - my dad gave it (which was sort of true - some crazed Egyptian spirit he called up shoved it into my arms and insisted that I keep it a couple months back. Did Egyptians even have peridot in their time anyway?)' and strike up a conversation when she went all 'nice necklace!' on me? I should've known by now that my friend-making attempts never do end well!), tugging on one bag-covered arm impatiently. "Can we go now?"