Chapter 8

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*Andrea's POV*

        I didn't sleep that night. After I helped a very high (possibly drunk) Justin to bed, I just curled up in my room and cried. when I heard my mama come home, I pretended to sleep. I couldn't tell her what happened. She'd send Justin away. So if she didn't have a reason to ask I wouldn't have to tell her. Lying to my mama made me sick. 

        The next morning, I got out of bed at 4:30, half and hour before my mama left for work. There was no way Justin could go to school today. Nacho would get him back. Besides, he'd proably feel like shit when he woke up. So I went into the kitchen to try and get things sorted out with mama. 

        " Hija, I dont really think it's a good idea for Justin to miss his second day of school." My mama looked up from her coffee to give me an apologetic smile. 

        My mother was gorgeous. she had long brown hair, just like me. She had full lips and a slim nose. exactly the same as mine. Even at 37, she still had the same curves I had inherited from her. But that's where our differences stopped. While our hair was the same color, mine was thick and super curly, frizzy, even, if I didn't take care of it. Her eyes were a deep brown, the same color as her hair. Mine were hazel. Products of my being bi-racial, I guess. My father had been black, but he left when I was five. I never really grew up with a dad, or anyone male for that matter, since my mother's family was still in Mexico. 

        " But mama, he's sick. I think it was the takeout we ate last night. He was throwing up, so we went to bed really late." 

        "Oh, my goodness. well in that case, of course he can. You should have started with that, hija." 

        "Thank you mama. Trust me he's not in good shape." My mother gave me a devious look. I stared at her inquisitively while she added creamer to her coffee. 

        "Mama, whats that look?" 

        "Nothing, nothing! Dios Mio, I swear you always think I'm up to something." she said as she picked up her coffee mug and sauntered out of the kitchen. I followed her to the door where she stopped to put on her shoes. 

        "Mama, I know you have something to say." I gave her my best demanding look. 

        "Alright then. I just wanted to remind you about that box of.. .condoms. The one I bought when you started high school. It's still in my room. Top shelf of my closet." My mother snickered and ran out of the door before I could respond. 

        I could actually feel myself turning red. which was ridiculous, because I never really turned red. But I was still curious. I went down the hall to my mama's bedroom. I went in to her walk- in closet, but i had to go get a chair form the kitchen table because I was so short. Curse my father's short genes. After a considerable amount of time spent digging through empty boxes, I finally found it. It was strange to be holding such a thing. A box of condoms. Condoms, for crying out loud. I knew Justin wouldn't be awake yet, but I still stuffed it my baggy gray sweatshirt and ran to my room as fast a possible. Then I began my long day of worrying about Justin. 

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It was about eleven am when he woke up. I had been checking on him every ten minutes since six that morning. When I went into his room for the thousandth time that day,  I found him staring a the celling with a groggy look. I sat on the bed, took his hand into mine, and smoothed back his hair. 

        "Good morning, sleepy head."  I softly. He gave me a confused look in response.

        "Drea aren't you mad? About all the stupid stuff I did last night?" He looked down, ashamed. I grabbed his face in my hands.

        "Justin, I don't get mad. Just disappointed. I was just really sacred last night. I was scared I would lose my only friend forever."

        "Really? Only friend? Drea, I had no idea you cared so much. I'm so sorry. I'll never do anything stupid like that again." 

        "Great. Now, you really need a shower. You smell like alcohol and weed."  I chuckled and dragged him to the bathroom. 

             

        

      

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