"He definitely wants to sleep with you," he taunts.
"Excuse me?" I look at him weirdly, "What are you even talking about."
"The way he touched your arm. That's what people do when they wanna fuck someone." He looks down at his paper and continues to...
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"Sage! Let's go! If you're not down here in three minutes, I'm leaving without you!" I scream.
"Mom says you're not allowed to drive alone!" My stupid twin brother yells back at me from his room upstairs.
Damn it.
"Honey, don't yell at your brother," Mother says.
"But he—" I cut myself off to let out an annoyed sigh, she never listens to me anyways. I'm surprised she's even home right now.
"Come eat your breakfast, flower."
I let go of the handrail and walk over to sit at the kitchen island. My mom hands me a plate of eggs and burnt toast.
I fake a smile as I put the bread up to my mouth but before I can take a bite, Sage runs down the stairs, placing a kiss on Mom's cheek, then sprints out the door.
I immediately jump out of my seat.
"That's my cue, see you after school Mama."
I give her an air kiss and throw my backpack over my shoulder before rushing to the car.
I get in the passenger seat and buckle myself in. As I look over, I see Sage holding Tupperware. I raise an eyebrow before taking it and opening the lid. "Is this bolo de fubá?"
"Of course, Grandma sent me the recipe. You owe me." He smarts as he backs out of the driveway.
"How so?" I ask with a mouthful of food.
He takes a quick glance at me which follows by a disgusted look. "Ew, Lavey! C'mon, dude."
I smile to myself as he continues.
"But, I saw the food mom gave you. I love her but she cannot cook."
"The cooking genes must've skipped a generation." I shrug jokingly as I flip down the mirror to apply my lipgloss.
-
When Sage and I arrive at school, we part ways, like always. I make my way to my locker to find my best friend, Harper. We've known each other since 4th grade when she moved from Columbia to here; California.
"Look who decided to show up. I was starting to think you weren't coming!" She twists in my locker combination for me and opens the metal door.
"Blame Sage." I start unloading my books into the locker, except my math one. "Besides, you have a ton of other friends, Harper."
"Yeah but they're not you," she claimed.
I smile at her. "Thank you." I check myself in the small mirror hanging inside before shutting the blue short door. "Hey, did you get the permission slipped signed for the museum trip?"
"I did. I can't wait to go to Paris!"
"Oh, me too! Let's go turn in the slip." I grab her arm and start walking toward the art classroom.
"You know we can legally drink over there?"
"Harper, it is a school trip. When do you think you'll have time for drinking?"
"All the time. You just gotta be sneaky like me."
We open the door to the art class to find the teacher, Mr. Thomas, sitting at his desk, reviewing assignments. He looks up at us and places the papers aside before standing up.
"Hello, girls! Came to turn in the permission slip I'm assuming," he reports, his hidden British accent making an appearance.
"Wouldn't miss it," Harper proudly says.
She takes out her white slip along with an envelope filled with either the cash or check and places it on the desk. I do the same but with only $400.
I look up at the teacher and smile sweetly. "I hope this is enough to secure my place. I'll get you the other $400 by the end of this week. I hope you don't mind."
Luckily, as soon as the school year started, all the seniors taking art were informed of this trip so we all could start saving up for a ticket.
He smiles back at me and reaches out to hold my shoulder, rubbing it slightly. "Consider your spot saved, Miss Quinn."
Considering trying my luck, I pretend to lean into his touch and continue. "Do you mind if you save a spot for Sage? I know he was really looking forward to going. He just has to pick up a few more shifts."
"Done."
In my peripheral vision, I see Harper with her mouth hung open. Meeting her gaze, I widen my eyes a bit and smile, giving her a subtle look to say 'be cool'.
Mr. Thomas gives my shoulder one last squeeze before letting go as his eyes drift to the doorway. "Mr. Rivera, are you here to turn in your permission slip as well?"
"Yes sir."
The most aggravating voice rings in my ears from behind me. Elijah. Goddamn. Rivera.
