“You look… nice,” said my mom, who was a terrible liar. I could tell by the expression on her face that she also noticed the extra weight I’d put on in the last three weeks.
“We have to go,” said Kala, grabbing her new designer clutch purse and a flaxseed granola bar. We’d both turned eighteen last month and she’d used her birthday money for the ridiculously priced purse, which I thought was gaudier than all hell. But, because of the French name imbedded on the inside of the thing, which nobody even saw, it was a ‘must have’ among many of the girls at our school. “I’ll meet you outside.”
“Take this,” said my mom, handing me one of the flaxseed bars as I stared the bagels on the counter.
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously, a flaxseed bar? This bird food isn’t going to fill me up,” I pouted. “Can’t I just have a bagel instead?”
She brushed a few strands of her jet-black hair behind her ears. “Sidney’s mom brought them over for the daycare kids and I don’t have enough. I’m sorry, honey. You know they’re loaded with carbs anyway,” she said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. She’s always trying to control my carb and fiber intake, which almost always leaves me hungry and unapproachable. It’s one of the reasons I keep a stash of candy bars under my bed. Fortunately, my sister doesn’t say anything about them. She’d rather let me eat than deal with my grumpiness from lack of sugar.
“Daycare kids,” I mumbled, scowling at the granola bar. “They eat better than I do.”
My mom runs a daycare in our home. Eight smelly little punks who’ve invaded our home and now there’s never any peace. Since my dad died earlier last year, though, it’s the only way my mom’s been able to afford the house payments. She blames it on lack of college, and that’s why she insists we both earn a degree.
“You eat very well, my dear,” she answered with a wry smile. “Now, you’d better get moving before you miss your bus.”
“Fine,” I said, walking towards the door. “But if I can’t concentrate this morning, it’s probably because I’m trying not to poop.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “What?”
“Yeah, mom… flaxseed… fiber… what are you trying to do to? Give me diarrhea?”
“Kendra, detoxifying your body is good for you!” she called as I shut the door behind me and stepped outside.
“Here it comes,” said Kala, who was applying more lipstick to her already glossy ones.
The bus was just turning down our lane and we both rushed over to get to the bus stop across the street.
Our neighbor, John Frances, smiled at me as I stopped next to the curb. “What’s wrong, out of breath?” He’s our age and a total jerk. I despise him with a passion.
“Shut up, tool,” snapped my sister, giving him a dirty look.
One thing I could say about my Kala was that she never thought twice about defending me.
I stabbed him viciously with my eyes and followed Kala onto the bus while everyone stared in shock at my sister. Kala never rode the bus. At least not last year, but that was because she’d been dating this superhot senior, Jamie Grant, who’d driven her to and from school every single day. Unfortunately, for Kala, he’d left for college two months ago and neither of us had our licenses yet, so it was the bus for the both of us.
“Sit here, Kala!” yelled Brandi, my sister’s best friend.
Brandi was obviously still grounded from using her Mustang after sneaking out in the middle of the night last week. Apparently, she’d snuck to a concert that she’d been forbidden to go to, and her parents had busted her when she’d tried to get back into her window early the next morning. I didn’t feel sorry for her, however. Brandi was blond with the perfect body and all the guys at school wanted to get into her pants, which I think most of them already had. Kala said she was a complete nympho and didn’t hide that fact. In fact, she flaunted it with her short skirts and low-cut tops. The fact that my sister was friends with someone like that was a little unsettling, but I also knew that Kala held her virginity very sacred. More than once she’d told me she was saving it for Jamie, when he was finished with college and came back to put a ring on her finger. Only then would she let him go all the way with her.
Personally, I thought Jamie, who looked and dressed like a glamorized Ken-doll, was gay, and had been ecstatic to have someone like her for his girlfriend. She’d told me that he’d never pressured her to do anything as far as sex, and they’d barely kissed. Most of their time together was spent shopping or going to movies, and I’m not talking drive-ins. She’d mentioned it once to him and he’d stared at her in horror, complaining that the humidity would make his hair droop.