Sophia, who art thou?

3. AMELIA

3rd January, 2018

Fifi got engaged yesterday. Sorry, Sophia. That's what she likes me to call her when we're talking about serious things. Which is, very often these days. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore her. She's like my big sister. Proxy big sister. We have so many memories together, it's not even funny. You know I'm the only one who can call her "Fifi"? Pisses the fuck out of Ollie and JC (That's Olivia and Jade. Almost all of us call Jade "JC" because a, she makes us and b, it's her initials so it makes sense. It's just like how Jade calls me "Ace" cause those are my initials. Well not initials. Almost initials. The "A" is from Amelia and the "ce" is from Celine.) Sorry, I shouldn't curse. Fifi says I'm too young. I don't know, is 19 too young?

Anyways, we grew a lot closer after my family took her in after her parents died. And after she almost died. Which I did not know of until about five minutes ago. But I'm in no position to question her. I have practically no moral ground to stand on. This is the fifth school I've been expelled from. First college but fifth educational institution.

I don't like how Fifi's looking at me right now. Like I'm a kid. It's not like I'm doing anything she hasn't. And she was much younger than I am when she pulled shit like this. I don't like how she sees me sometimes. Like I'm still the 10 year old she shared a room with. I'm not an impressionable kid anymore. I'm an adult now. Have been for the past 375 days. I remember because that's how many days I've been sober. Drug sober, not alcohol sober. I'm not ready to give up vodka just yet. But of course Fifi doesn't know that. All she's concerned about is that I had drugs in my possession. If she could, I'm pretty sure she'd get a restraining order for me against any and every narcotic on the face of earth. I'm not sure how I'm even going to have this conversation with her, so I start with my go to sentence whenever I'm in trouble. I also use her nick name because she always says it sounds cute coming out of my mouth.

"I swear it wasn't my fault, Fifi. I promise I wasn't using."

"I know. You were dealing."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"How do you think I pay for college? I don't have a fancy ass scholarship or trust fund I can raid." Ollie's the trust fund kid. She's never ever ever used a penny from her trust fund but if it supports my argument I sure as hell am going to use it. It'd be stupid not to.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Ollie."

"It's okay, kid. But I'm not the one you're answerable to."

I nod as I turn to face Fifi. Sometimes it's hard to take her seriously because I'm taller than her. Much, much taller than her. I got like 6 inches on her, even when she's wearing her big, fancy heels she only wears on dates cause "Drew likes them". Fucking Drew. Ugh. Now I know I said it's hard, but I always do take her seriously. The last thing I want to do is disappoint her. I know my actions speak otherwise, but a little piece of me dies every time I disappoint her. Looking into her steel grey eyes, I'm not sure how much of me is going to be left of me before I turn 20 if I keep doing this.

"I'm sorry I ruined your engagement brunch."

"You could never ruin anything, Amy."

"I ruined my life."

"Yeah,

I'm not gonna lie, you did ruin that."

I laugh a little as I see the corners of Fifi's eyes crinkle. "You're not going back to school, are you?"

"No."

"Hmm."

"Are you mad?"

"No. College isn't for everyone. Plus, I'll let your mama give you the lecture on that one."

"I'm gonna get a job."

"Not dealing."

"Of course not."

"Good. I'm proud of you."

See, another thing about Fifi. She can never be mad at me too long. A couple eyelashes batted here and there, a few sincere apologies and everything's back to normal. I'm not sure that's healthy, but considering I don't pay some random chick $200 an hour to criticize my life, I'd say it isn't really my problem. Yeah, I don't like therapists. I had a court appointed therapist a couple years back because I got into soo many fights my senior year. It was sick (the fights, not the therapist). I still have a scar on my cheek. It's really fucking cool. Guys dig it. I know this cause it works like a charm to get a new one next to me every weekend.