La Muneca De Los Dos

How it Started: Part 1

On August 10, 2019, I made twenty-one trips around the sun. As I sit here detailing the events of my life that led me to this very moment, I have to wonder how a poor foster kid that once wore run-over shoes, and thrift store clothes and rarely had enough money to eat, ended up in an estate overlooking the crystal clear ocean on an island in the Caribbean?

In June 2016, I was 17 years old, and while most of my classmates were excited about graduating and moving on with the next chapter of their lives, for me, it was more bitter than sweet. I had spent years in the foster system. My mother died when I was seven and my father was behind bars. I had no family to cheer for me when I walked across that stage. The whole moment was very much like the meh emoji. I was happy when the whole thing ended.

My foster mother didn't plan anything special. She had several kids in the home most of whom had special needs. I told her not to concern herself with doing a big party. My biggest concern was aging out of the system. I only had a couple of months before my 18th birthday and I'd be pretty much homeless. My stomach ached as I sat at a table with my friends Trina this black Caribbean girl from Jamaica. Her skin was deep mahogany and she always had her hair done nicely, she planned to open a salon after graduating since she had already completed cosmetology school while we were in high school.

Then there was Carissa this white Cuban girl that had sandy blonde hair and these clear blue eyes that almost look gray. Her family was from Cuba, but she was raised in Miami. Her family owned a restaurant and she planned to go to college for a degree in business to help them run their restaurant more efficiently.

Me, I was stuck trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I was accepted into the same college as Carissa, but I wasn't given a full ride. She wagged her finger at me, "Stop creating obstacles for yourself, I already said we could get an apartment together."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Shut up," she scolded.

Trina laughed, "For real, stop being like that Zora. Let Carissa help you."

"I don't want to be the friend that always needs help."

"Oh, don't think I'm letting you stay for free. We have to find a way because my parents can't pay for everything." She hugged me.

"Right."

"Or something else," she grinned. Carissa's parents were just below middle class, yet she always had the latest fashions. Her most fly gear, she changed into when she got to school so her parents wouldn't ask how she could afford such items.

I ate a French fry and suddenly Carissa's face lit up as she looked at her cellphone, "Ay dios mio," she squealed, "there's a party tonight, I got us an invite."

Trina smiled, "Yaaaass," this is going to be fun, "But what about the thing at your parent's restaurant?"

"Girl, that will be over by 11:00 p.m."

"Are you sure, 'cause you know y'all Latinos will party for three days straight without a care in the world just eating and dancing to salsa and merengue," joked Trina.

Carissa laughed, "I'll make sure it's done by then. We have to go to this. It's a grown folks' party with high rollers. If we play our cards right, we won't have to come out of pocket for school or the apartment."

That is what she meant by "something else." That was how she got all the name-brand outfits, shoes, and purses.

"My grandmother always said, 'make young pussy work for you,'" joked Trina.

I laughed, "Y'all are crazy."

"This one is still a virgin," Carissa said as she nudged me.

"I thought you let Michael pop that cherry," commented Trina.

I shook my head. Michael was sweet, but I didn't like him like that, "No. I only tutored him in English."

"Tonight, we're going to get you laid, chica."

"No, you're not, I'm only 17."

"What does that have to do with anything? I was fifteen and Trina was like what?"

"I was sixteen," Trina responded.

"Jesus," I said holding my head.

"That's exactly who you gone call on when he strokes that kitty just right, "Trina joked.

"Oh God, Jesus, fuck, shit!" Carissa moaned. People passing by looked at her.

"Shhh, people are looking."

"I don't care."

We continued to joke until it was time to leave. Later that night before I left my foster home, I told my foster mother I was sleeping at Carissa's. I planned to do that after the party at the restaurant.