CECE, DISRESPECTFULLY | rewriting

09: TREAT ME LIKE A DOG BUT DON'T BLAME ME WHEN I BITE

               Come November nineteenth, I ring the bell of Diwa's house in the Red Bricks estate at eight a.m. as ordered. The first round of the secondary school-level Maths Olympiad of Greater Manchester starts at ten and Diwa, the Type A control freak she is, insisted I come round hers so she can ensure I look "professional". Which I have no intention of ever looking.

She huffs the moment she opens the door. Her eyes fling from my eyeliner to the rings on my nose and my snakebites. By the time they find my usual array of mismatched earrings, she's scowling like I've set out to offend her. I don't even wear odd pairs intentionally, but I always manage to lose one earring and don't consider that a reason to stop wearing the other.

'Can't you take some of that off?'

'We're not meeting the fucking prime minister. And even if we were, no.' I glance at her shirt and past-the-knee pleated skirt. 'Just cause you dress like a narc, don't expect the rest of us...'

My bite slackens when my line of sight reaches her socks. They're turquoise with... ducks on them. Five seconds ago, I would've bet all my belongings and Nicolás's car that she exclusively wears grey ones.

Diwa steps aside to invite me in. The first to greet me is a reproduction of The Last Supper and, on the console table below it, three Santo Niño statues in gold-embroidered capes.

'Why the fuck've you got creepy church dolls?'

'We're Filipino. Everyone has them.'

Must be nice to have parents who bother to teach you your culture.

On that topic, I pry my focus from the dolls to find Diwa. 'Your parents aren't home, are they? Cause I don't do parents.'

'No.'

Her voice is even more clipped than it normally is which is to say Guinness World Record levels of unfriendliness—not that she'll ever defeat me on that front. She swivels on her heels and marches up the stairs.

'They're at my brother's basketball game.'

Uncertain what to do, I follow. 'They're not coming to watch you?'

'No.'

Nicolás can't make it because he had already promised Sasha to help with a day workshop at Spectrum by the time I told him about it (which were twenty minutes ago) and he probably would've cried up a lake with his apologies if I had stuck around long enough. Considering Diwa might be the only person in our year who'll actually graduate with decent grades, I would've assumed her parents want to show her off more.

She leads me to her bedroom and snaps the door shut, assumedly out of instinct considering she's home alone.

'D'you want a brew?'

'Nah. Shit's disgusting.'

'Coffee?'

'Even worse. Sides, I've already had three Monsters on the way here.'

'Three?' she repeats, horrified. 'The last thing I need is you having a fucking heart attack in the middle of our competition!'

'Love how you're more concerned about losing than my potential heart attack.'

'I'm not your babysitter.'

'Sure act like it,' I mumble, pretending I don't intend for her to hear. My eyes circle the room before I pin them to hers, impatiently waiting for me, as critical as they always are. 'Relax. That's not even my record. My heart is fine.'