My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

70

Josephine blinked and days floated by. Another and it had been a week. Then two. Three. A month.

Though her grief did not lessen, she was not alone. Dante had made sure of it. Being the best, most patient lover she could imagine. Or tried to be. It was too late for her to deny his affections after everything and she—she needed the distraction.

School was the same and yet it was not. Ever since their fallout Lexi had spread the most hurtful rumors one could think of. People snickered at her in the hallways. Sometimes Serenity looked at her with wavering eyes. That was until Dante's glare silenced the onlookers like children and she asked Serenity what was wrong. But little by little, Josephine let go of her care. Except for one thing, she had an open spot to fill on the cheerleading team. Besides, the bulk of the rumors centered around her lewdness, her flings with Camillo, and her desire for men, but the only relationship she had was with Dante. Which was extremely public.

She hadn't spoken to Camillo in a month.

He had gone silent. So had she. He kept his word on their agreement—and the reward promise. Every so often she'd receive a string of texts on the latest assignment needed or an upcoming exam. No more, no less. It was a reminder of what she had fulfilled and how he was honoring it, even after...

Josephine couldn't bring herself to that thought, silencing it immediately. Every time she remembered she was broken in half all over again.

Tucking away the thrumming reward from her deal with Camillo, her phone found its way into a pocket no longer to be fawned over. It was lunch break. Dante was taking her somewhere special after a lengthy lecture on her dietary needs. No salt, no tuna, she hated tuna, with nothing undercooked or overcooked and nothing, absolutely nothing fatty. She knew he'd hate her for being late. And because he was the one paying, she imagined he'd leave without her if need be.

Josephine slowed around the end of the hallway, losing her focus. Isla was waiting by the window, looking at the cars parked out by. No doubt she was waiting for Houston, this being a popular spot for leaving the school grounds. Catching the sound of someone approaching, Isla turned to the sound. Josephine knew she should greet her, even if a month had passed, but as Isla turned her head around the corner—

Josephine's tongue went limp.

Isla had turned into a ghost. Her arms had grown thin, and the dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights. Her once, vibrant greenish hair now looked dull, like a spot of mold on expired bread. And the once hopeless, bright smile she had always known now looked to be made of pity and heartbreak.

Josephine stopped in front of her, unsure of what to say. "Hello, Isla." Was all she left on.

Isla didn't stop trying to smile. "Hello, Josephine. It's been a while."

A month. "I've been busy." She lied.

Isla swallowed, also seemingly uncertain on what to say. What to do. "I see you've been putting up posters for tryouts on the team. Do you think I have a chance for next year?"

"No," Josephine said, only stating the truth. "You'd be horrible."

A half-hearted laugh. "Probably."

"I think it's because of the green hair." She noted, which was now withering alongside Isla's despair.

Holding a strand, Isla said, "I was thinking that next year's outfit would be blue. So they could match, you know?"

She didn't. "I'm not so sure about that. It's not like we're going to be here, anyway."

They weren't. They were heading off to college, or someplace else. But neither was someone else.