𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙁𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 || EDDIE MUNSON

Holy Water

BRANDY walked up the concrete patio of Tracie's house excitedly. It'd been well over four weeks since she last had a sleepover. And sleeping over at Chrissy's felt more like boot camp if she was honest. Her mother was always giving the younger girl unsolicited advice, scrutinizing her appearance, keeping her on a military-ish schedule. It was uncomfortable to witness, like every conversation Chrissy had with her mother felt as if she was intruding on something private.

It was like Chrissy's mother kept her under lock and key. Her appearance, her sleep schedule, her food intake. Hell, Brandy wouldn't have been surprised if Chrissy's mom monitored how many breaths she took a day. The girl seemed terrified of her own mother. It was something Brandy pitied.

Brandy knocked on the door, holding her bag full of clothes tightly within her arms. Tracie opened the door with a large grin and excited expression, "Took you long enough," She squealed.

"Is everyone already here?" Brandy asked as she stepped into the home.

Tracie's home quite reminded Brandy of her grandmother's house. Which would make sense since Tracie and her mother lived with her grandma. The home had small porcelain figures on nearly every open space, along with hand-crocheted doilies. The furniture was a bit outdated for Brandy's taste, but she couldn't say anything, her home was decorated like it was the seventies still.

"Tate's late but she also had an errand to run," The short girl smirked. "Mom's working the graveyard shift again so we shouldn't have to worry about her, and I don't think my Mamaw will notice anything."

"Can she even hear anymore?" Brandy questioned.

"Not very well," Tracie told her walking over to her Grandmother who sat in a cushioned rocking chair, her old eyes glared at the T.V. "Hey Mamaw!" Tracie said loudly. The older woman looked up, her puckered lips pursing, "You remember Brandy?!"

The crone looked and smiled softly, "Pretty girl," She pointed a bony finger. Brandy gave her tight-lipped smile, turning back to Tracie.

The girl shrugged. "Can't hear shit." She said nonchalantly. "Come on," She waved a hand, bringing Brandy across the house.

Tracie's house was a bit odd to her, most of her friends had photographs in the hallways of their homes Tracie had paintings, all sighed under the name of Ray Brook. "Who's Ray Brook?" Brandy asked.

"My Papaw," She told her. "She won't let us take them down,"

"Who?" The blonde looked down at her, "Your Grandma?"

"Precisely," She nodded, opening up the bedroom door for Brandy.

"B.B!" Chrissy clapped excitedly. The younger girl sat on the shag carpet floor with cross-crossed legs.

Tracie's room was quite hippie-like, with sage green shag carpet and crocheted art hanging from the walls. Several lava lamps were scattered around the room, with potted plants that seemed to be in every corner. Though the oriental pillows on the bed were enough to sell it.

"Is she already drunk?" Brandy laughed.

"I had a glass or two of my mom's wine before I got here," The strawberry blonde playfully smiled. "Maybe three." The girl giggled, placing her hand in her palm

The door to Tracie's room swung open violently, making the girls jump. "Just let yourself in why don't you!" Tracie laughed, sarcasm dripping in her voice.

"I did," The slender girl smirked. "Alright, ladies..." Tate began, looking at her friends with a mischievous grin."I have Gatorade, that I would prefer for you to drink beforehand," She tossed three bottles to each girl, all but Chrissy catching it. "Annnnnd," She grunted pulling out a liter of Pepsi from her large backpack. "A chaser," Tate grinned.