The Red School

(2) We Can't All Be Virgins, Val.

                My heart goes out to her. “Mom…”

                She turns around and trains her big, puffy eyes on me, a watery smile on her face. “You’re such a beautiful girl, Valeria. Your sister, too.”

                “Mom, are you okay?”

                She shrugs. “I guess I’ll be fine.”

                “Mom,” I start, in a sympathetic voice. “I wish I could stay with you,” I don’t actually, but that isn’t the point. “But—,”

                “But I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. Don’t mind me. I’ll be fine.”

                It’s hard for me not to mind her. I’ve never seen my mother so broken before, and just because we’re leaving. Imagine what it’ll be like when we go off for college… I grimace. Oh, boy. Maybe I won’t apply for any colleges. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

                “I’m ready to roll.” Azrielle chirps from behind me. Startled, I jump and spin around to glare at her. I was going to yell at her, but I’m momentarily stunned by her beauty. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulder in soft curls; she’s wearing black eyeliner which makes her red eyes look all the more intense; her plump lips are set into an arrogant smirk, snapping me out of my shock with a scowl.

                “Like what you see, little sis?” she asks, an arched eyebrow raising condescendingly.

                Making a face, “Get over yourself, Azzie.”

                Mom goes to work on buttoning up Azrielle’s shirt up higher, but she slaps her hand away with a look on her face as if she’s just been physically assaulted. “Mommy!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to turn me into a nun?”

                I can’t help the short laugh that escapes my mouth. “Like it would work,” I inject. “We all know you’re quite the opposite, Azzie.”

                She doesn’t even look offended. My sister just flashes me a smile and says, quite unbothered, “We can’t all be virgins, Val.” I opt to ignore her. “Mommy, what the hell is that?” she asks, gesturing toward the bloody mess on the table which I just only noticed.

                The table is covered with randomly placed, butchered meat (which looks absolutely appalling) and three glasses drenched in blood (as if my mother attempted to drain an animal on our kitchen table).

                “It’s breakfast!” Mom exclaims, clapping her hands together. “I prepared it all by myself.” Well, that explains why her hands were all bloody before.

                The look on Azrielle’s face is nothing short of disgust. “U-um, where, exactly, are the cooks?” she asks patiently, and I can tell she’s trying hard not to hurt our mothers feelings. Hey, at least she was trying.

                “I gave them the day off. Wanted to give you guys something to remember me by before you go off to boarding school.”

                “Lovely,” Azrielle chokes out, her eyes swimming with amusement. “Yeah, no, how can we forget this?”

                “You know what mom?” I begin before Azrielle gets another stupid word in. I’m tapping my fingers on my thighs to find something to do with my fingers. I have terrible body language when I lie. “This all looks so yum, but I’m not very hungry. I don’t think Azrielle is either. It’s the first day of school and—nerves, yeah that’s it. Bad nerves, right, Azz?”