Buried secrets, two girls with the same face, and a boy who loved too much.
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When Travis and Nicole meet on a bus for the first time, he thinks she's his ex, Rachel, who broke his heart two years ago. But he doesn't understand why she's pretendin...
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I USUALLY DANCED with the mop stick during Saturday morning cleaning, but not this Saturday.
The air downstairs was clean, redolent with nice-smelling cleaning products mixed with the sweet aroma of waffle syrup and rich. Greasy scents of bacon and chicken emanated from the kitchen. Then there was also the lingering aroma of coffee brewing.
The perfect Saturday morning. But my mood wasn't as great.
Too glum to be happy, I was mulling over yesterday's events while my muscles screamed in protest from constant scrubbing and mopping. I didn't want to stop, though, afraid of the dangerous thoughts that would ambush me once I was idle.
In the kitchen, Nessa seemed to be in the direct opposite of my mood: extremely happy and whistling an annoying tune. It drove me so crazy I was tempted to throw my mop stick at her head.
I now knew that what happened yesterday was pure jealousy and that familiar mix of inadequacy. For some reason, Jahdiel and Merlinda were super close, and I don't know about Marilyn, but I do know that that subset of friendship within our friendship made me feel left out sometimes.
I cherished my friendship with them a lot, but looking at Jahdiel and Merlinda, it was as if they didn't love me the same way I loved them. We were supposed to stick together, not divide ourselves. Right?
"Why are you so damn happy?" I finally gritted out ten minutes later when Nessa still whistled as she meticulously wiped surfaces.
"Why have you been mopping the same place for the past twenty minutes?" She squinted suspiciously at me.
"Something is eating her up!" Mom called from the kitchen.
"What is it, young lady?" Nessa cooed in our mom's motherly manner. "What do you need?"
With a grunt, I tossed the mop somewhere and entered the kitchen. I leaned against the now gleaming kitchen counter, and after taking a deep breath, spoke loud and clear.
"I need a choreographer."
My mom paused tossing her salad at my announcement, and her blue eyes went wide in a quick flash of surprise. "Wow, that was... unexpected."
I gave a long sigh and turned to face her squarely.
"Momma, Coach Margaret said she'll evict those of us who aren't good enough from the dance team in two weeks time. I'll be evicted if I don't get extra lessons. I need you to find me a choreographer. Please, please, please."
