I open the door; there she is sitting behind a big dark oak desk where paperwork is sprawled, covering every inch; an apple laptop lays in the center with her long ambidextrous fingers typing the keys, clacking away.

A pair of black, square Ray-Ban gla.s.ses perched on the upper bridge of her nose. Her beach blond hair up in a high tight bun which shows off her rosy high cheekbones. She is wearing a white blouse – sitting up straight, no slouch present to disgrace her professional air. But as every mother, she has small wrinkles upon the crevices of her light blue eyes, eyes that carry order and a.s.surance.

"Hey, mom, what's up?" I gave her a small awkward smile but held back the cheeriness because of how this morning went. She looks up from her laptop and stops what she is doing.

Lacing her fingers, she lays her elbows on her desks to rest her chin upon her hands. I wonder why she called me to the office? It's not like I did anything this morning besides killing the life out of my alarm clock. I know she wouldn't call me back for something trifling relating to that, so it must be severe.

As if reading my mind, she rea.s.sures me with a stern voice. "Don't worry I didn't call you back here about this morning. Also, what did I say about calling me 'mom' during school?"

"Sorry, feels too weird to call you by our last name. Besides, it is not like we're in the hallways or cla.s.srooms." I had a hint of an att.i.tude but shrug it off, not giving a d.a.m.n. She chuckles in reply as I move to sit in one of the two leather chairs in front of her desk.

My Mom puts her hands on the desk, "All right moving on. Zivali do you remember during dinner I mentioned to you about a new transfer student?"

I scrunch my face in confusion. Transfer student? I don't remember any of that. If it's something regarding it, I would've kept like a post-it in my mind.

"Not... really, I probably forgot about that." I replied hesitantly, fidgeting in my seat.

"I told you last night, how could you forget so quickly?" Now that I think about it, I do recall her saying something about a student while I was binging on my phone.

"Apparently, my phone was interesting." Mom just raised her eyebrows, clearly showing she isn't surprised by the apparent reason.

"Well then, she will be living with us for this last month of the school year or so, starting today. Due to moving circ.u.mstances, she's unable to live with her father at the moment. Because of this, I offered the help of her staying until its resolved." She says it all with a wave of her hand. "I told all of this last night – circ.u.mstances included – but as you said, you claim to have forgotten that." I lightly scoff since her last line portrayed some smugness.

"She is also in some of your cla.s.ses, so I'd like it if you help her around her first day here. Don't want her getting lost. Okay?" I nodded.

So, someone is moving into the house. Why so late? That's one of my main concerns as if this moment. But still, who the f.u.c.k? I must ask considering I am talking to my mother right now.

"Mind me asking why? Everyone is preparing for regent exams right now. We do have just one month left before we graduate." I say it all in a rush, a tad anxious because we are talking about meeting someone new. Someone I should socialize with – which requires something I lack besides with Bee and my mother.

My mother lightly scratches her forehead with a look as if she's debating on repeating to whether or not to tell me. If I didn't know any better, it could be more than what is considered a 'circ.u.mstance.'

"From what I gather, her father is still working last minute changes at his current job and will not be finished until a month. Plus, his daughter is registered for the rest of the year at this school." She shrugged. "She has no choice to either take her regents early or take them here, the scheduled dates in our school."

"Uh-huh..." is all I could say while nodding and not acting completely dumbfounded. "But what about the living arrangements?"

"They live two states over, out west." She responses as if it was the most obvious answer to date. Well excuse me for asking – I thought she'd come from a few hours out of town. Guess not.

I cross my arms, "I mean... she could live at their new house alo-"

"Absolutely NOT," she shrieks. "As a mother, I wouldn't let you stay by yourself in our house for more than a month. It's the same for her, especially after all that she's been through."

All that she's been through? What?

"Huh?" I question, there is totally more than what she's saying. I know my mother has her secrets, but she's never known to be loose-lip so this is the first.

"Is there more I should know, mother? In case I don't step on the wrong ants."

"I don't have a say in that." She says it too fast for my liking, but I let it go because it's always best to get the details from the source, itself.

"Why am I here anyway, you could've just told me all of this at home instead of missing out on lunch," I ask furrowing my eyebrows.

"Oh, I almost forgot," She claps her hands together in haste making me slightly jump from her sheer liveliness. "I need you to go home right now and help her with some of her things. I can't have her walking around by herself in the house." A big smile is plastering on her face. It's as if she's telling me 'scare her or hurt her, no concert.' It's quite creepy honestly, but that's how my mom generally is, although I'm still wary.

But now you know where I get my looks from as well as the aggressive att.i.tude. Our main difference is my mother has blonde hair. Mine is platinum.

Then I realize something and narrow my eyes at her, "Why the h.e.l.l did you make me come here if she's at the d.a.m.n house? I could've just stayed home the entire time."

"She wasn't going to be at that house until around this time. Besides, you think I'm going to let you miss your morning cla.s.ses?" She replies off the bat without hesitation letting me know it's quite an obvious answer because now that I think about it, it pretty much is.

I sigh. "Never mind, and my last two cla.s.ses?"

"I'm handling that, make sure you have everything before you leave. Okay, Honey?" She looks at her paper pile as if it was more important than me.

My lip curled from the nickname. I am not a big fan of those, but I try my best to hide my disgust from those sappy nicknames. However, I'm positive she already knows considering how she does it in front of other people in the school whenever she gets the chance.

Evil b.i.t.c.h.

"Fine," I replied gruffly. "Can Beverly at least come over later to help?" I was about to stop there but continued on quickly when an idea crossed my mind. "She can bring over my cla.s.swork too since we're both in the same cla.s.ses." It makes up every situation when we're in the same cla.s.ses. It's easier for us when there's a test, homework or project involved.

We did our best to keep it that way since we both plan on going for the same profession after we graduate. Before you jump to conclusions, we didn't decide just because we're best friends. It's something we wanted to do since we both choose to pursue it. In the end, we settled on working hard together.

"That might be a good idea. The more people she comes in contact with, the more likely she'll be comfortable around others as well." My mother politely agrees.

Actually, Bee will drill whatever the h.e.l.l she can get out of her and make her more uncomfortable than she is. It's how I nicknamed her for she's the type to ask so many questions – I know enough that they can sting. Plus, it can be annoying like a bee.

"Kay, cool. See you later." I get out of the seat and walk out of my mother's office, closing the door behind me.

Once outside, I see Beverly stuffing her face in pizza, tomato sauce dripping down her chin and grease droplets traveling down her arms from her palms. Some strands of her long dark chocolate brown hair are trap between her tongue and the end of the flappy pizza. After taking a bite, she munches away with eyes closed and head tossed back, moaning in ecstasy.

"Jesus f.u.c.king Christ Bee, learn some etiquette," I scrunch my face up in horror of how disgusting Bee can get when it comes to pizza. It is never a pretty sight, and I still wonder when did she and pizza become such a good idea.

As she claims it to be.

After she swallows her bite with a loud gulp, I shudder as she opens her eyes. Once she caught my sight, she waves the pizza up and down as well as showing off the other new slice on the paper plate. It's clear as day Bee doesn't give a f.u.c.k about her mess.

"Save you a slice, Liv." I stick my tongue out and produce a gag.

"No, thank you, Bee," I spoke after recollecting myself and s.n.a.t.c.h the slice she got for me, out of her hand. "I got to head home, don't ask I'll text you. Just come after cla.s.ses are over with the s.h.i.+t I missed. Oh, and PLEASE, clean that mess."

I wave my hand around in front of her before I take a nice big bite of my pizza feeling the warmth and the gooey cheese making love with my tongue.

"You're unbelievable, maybe if you took it out of my hand nicely, I would clean up after myself."

She pauses to absorb what I said earlier. "Can't your mom just sign me out as well?"

"I doubt she would Bee," I say after chewing my pizza.

"Ugh, then who's going to make my notes?" She whines.

"You are," and she better.

"But my fingers will hurt!" she continues to whine like a baby.

I'm getting tired of this, "I'm not your f.u.c.king G.o.dmother," I snap.

Sinking into her chair, she throws her head back signaling that she gives in, "Fine, I'll text you when I'm on my way."

"Thank you," and I leave the building to head on home.

~*~

As I pull up into my driveway in my dark blue mustang, I see the moving truck already parked. I made sure to park next to it to not block its way for when they need to leave.

A couple of men were all I saw taking some boxes out of the truck. It looks like as if she brought her entire house worth of furniture. She could've just bought her essentials and dropped the rest at her new home. Then again when you think about it, as us girls, everything we own is pretty much essential.

I will be honest though, my house is quite big, big enough some people from school call it the White House No. 2. It also has a similar build – my father made sure if it when the first architecture was producing ideas.

However, due to it, I have been called a spoiled rich kid. However, that's the last thing I would want to be named. Or, at all. I work my a.s.s off in school to maintain the perfect grades; even my clothes are a different story since I wear mostly a t-s.h.i.+rt and jeans. On important occasions such as a business party my mom organizes, I do dress up formally as required. If I wore my casual wear, my mother would flip s.h.i.+t.

She instead portrays me as the child she supposedly nurtured. Don't get me wrong. My mom did her best raising me. We clash a lot due to our strong personalities.

As for my car, my mother bought it for me on my 16th birthday. To say I was flabbergasted at the time is true because I was already saving up money to buy a used one. However, my mom said it was because of all the hard work that earned my keep; I couldn't say no after that.

Especially since it is my dream car after all.

Soon enough, I am walking up onto the porch, open the doors and walk inside. Feeling ridiculously stupid, I scream as loud as possible.

"h.e.l.lOOO!" I shout loud enough hoping this new girl could hear me; since my house is kind of big, you could listen to an echo taking over each dominion.

Next thing I hear is a clatter of boxes. .h.i.tting the floor and then hard stumbling down the stairs.

Along with a high pitch scream that makes my heart jump out of my chest.

Oh f.u.c.k.