Berryllium

Chapter 2

Los Angeles traffic is the worst-especially when you drive with manual transmission. However, I always try to remind myself that the traffic is definitely worth being a UCLA Bruin. It took a lot of hard work to get the grants that I did, and I didn't want mom to stress about the tuition so I to ok as many AP courses I could. Now, there's really only three years of college left, and thanks to financial aid, things are looking up.

Unlike my brother, I was always kind of a loner-not by default, but by choice. Besides my passion for basketball, kids my age were interested in other things. Parties, sex, drugs and rise in social status seemed to be the favorable trend in high school. Basketball, documentaries and books were my forte, so it was difficult to relate to them.

Plus, I was born with these weird birthmarks on my body that look a lot like burn marks, so I usually just call them scars. The one on my neck looks like a tomahawk nailed me. I knew it freaked people out at school, but they were too nice to say anything. I always got a kick out of watching people try to focus on the areas of my face that that aren't scarred, but it's like when someone has a huge zit on their face…you can't help but stare at it.

The one thing I'm grateful for is my long black hair and bangs. It hides most of the marks on my face, but I still pretty much keep to myself to spare everyone else the awkwardness. Besides, all I really care about is knowledge-about everything, so the social aspect of my life never bothered me at all. Especially because I have three amazing friends and a really cool brother, Cayce.

I rarely get to see him, but he calls all the time to check in. Especially, since I started college. Sometimes when I get upset or stressed he calls-even if he has already called that day. It's like he has a sixth sense.

Which reminds me-I should let him know mom and I are going to Ve nezuela, or he'll be pissed if we wait and tell him last minute.

I reach for my phone.

It rings once.

"Yo," Cayce whispers. He's probably at work.

"Sorry, are you in a meeting?" I whisper back.

"No."

"Liar."

"What's up Hali?" He sounds a little annoyed. "I can't shoot the shit right now."

"Sorry, mom and I are going to see the Angel Falls in Venezuela."

"What?" his whispering got louder.

"I said, mom and I are going to Venezuela to see…"

"Why? When? Just the two of you?" he cuts me off.

"Yeah, next week for spring break. You know mom and her dreams," I pull into the parking lot.

Cayce takes in a slow deep breath. I can imagine him probing at his temples even though he's never once experienced a headache. He only does it when a hundred things are running through his mind at once.

"Okay, let me talk to my partner and let him know I'll be taking next week off."

"You're going to come?" I shriek with excitement. It's been so long since I got to spend a whole week with my big brother.

"Well, who else is going to save you from falling on your face when hiking up a big ass cliff?"

"Speak for yourself mister I-trip-on-pinecones-while-jogging and eat shit," I laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It was dark outside," he says. "Anyway, I'll have my assistant arrange the trip for us. Tell mom not to worry about it."

"Alright," I pull into a parking spot, "but you know mom is going to get mad because you always pay for everything."

"She'll get over it. Call me later."

"Alright," I say. "Bye bro."

"Later Hali."

Yessssss! I knew Cayce wouldn't like me and mom traveling alone. Now we get to spend a whole week with him. Besides, he works too much anyway, and deserves a break. So does mom-working thirteen hour shifts at the hospital takes a toll on your body no matter what anyone says.

I reach for my lip balm and fix the rear view mirror so I can see myself. The light brown birth marks on my face look more pronounced today-especially the long one on the side of my neck. Luckily they're not nearly as bad as the ones on my feet and legs. Mom still can't figure out why I was born with them and every visit to the dermatologist has left us in the dark.

All they ever do is repeatedly ask, "are you sure she didn't burn herself?" and judge mom with crossed arms and suspiciously raised eyebrows. So I've just come to accept my unexplainable skin condition. Besides, Cayce always tells me that beauty is found in imperfection, and above a ll, thinks the marks look badass. Boys.

I hurriedly stuff a bunch of books from the backseat into my backpack and step out of my car. When I go to lock the door, the latch on my lunchbox comes undone and tofu splatters everywhere. Great, now what am I going to eat? As I get down to scoop up the stir fry I hear footsteps from behind running toward me.

"Five second rule!" someone shouts.