Paper Hearts

03

I looked in the mirror and smiled at myself.

Not out of pettiness, or vanity―I just wanted to see if I still had the ability to smile genuinely, as if nothing was wrong.

As if my estranged mother wasn't going to get married in four weeks. As if my dad wasn't slipping into depression. As if I didn't have to find someone to be my boyfriend for the wedding.

As if everything was okay.

Which it wasn't.

Straightening my blouse and wiping my hands on my jeans a few times, I made sure my hair was in place―what had once been a mess of blonde tangles was now brushed and pinned back neatly. I applied a layer of foundation, eyeliner, mascara. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Simple. Put-together. Me.

Blowing out a breath, I prepared myself for the day ahead.

You are Victoria Hemmings. Everything is fine. You are doing fine.

And I was.

For now, at least.

________

"So you have four weeks." Rachael echoed quietly, with a low whistle. "Wow."

"I know," I muttered. "It's ridiculous. I mean, she doesn't call for years, and suddenly, she's getting married! It's insane!"

"It's your mom," Rachael pointed out, brushing her red hair behind her ears, her deep brown eyes scanning the hallway as we walked. "Of course it's insane."

Rachael Whims knew me better than I knew myself. She'd been my best friend since kindergarten, and she knew everything there was to know about my family and our constant problems. After all, she'd been there since the beginning. Rachael was always at my house; she was there when the fighting began. And when the fighting ended. And when Mom left. She might as well have been my sister―she had experienced everything just as vividly as I had.

The only difference between Rachael and I was the fact that my life was mine, and not hers. She still had a nice, stable home to go back to. I, however, had the nightmare that was my own.

And it hadn't been bad as of late. It had actually been nice. Dad and I didn't talk about Mom, Mom didn't bother to call us up, and we were happy. We were getting along; I was finally prepared to put everything behind me.

Until yesterday.

"Look, Vick," Rachael said, snapping me back into the present, back into reality. "I don't know what possessed you to claim that you have a boyfriend when you obviously don't―"

I opened my mouth to object, but she talked over me,

"But," she said, pointing a finger at me. "I am willing to help you try to figure this out."

I gave a dry laugh. "Gosh, Rachael, how generous of you."

"I'm serious here," she said, adjusting her backpack on one shoulder as we turned the corner, passing the water fountains. "I mean, all you have to do is make a deal with someone."

At this, I couldn't help but laugh. "If you think I'm low enough to―"

"Not that kind of deal," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "God, no. Just―find a guy to tutor, or something. Get his grades up. And, once he's happy with the results, ask him if he can do you a favor. It's that simple."