Valentina ✔

1. Im A Badass Bitch

"I'm a boss ass bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. I'm a boss ass bitch!"

I sang obnoxiously in my Mercedes-Benz without a care in the world. Boss Ass Bitch by Nicki Minaj had to be my favorite song ever. It was one of those songs where you can sing it whenever, wherever, however.

I was driving back home from the craziest party in my life. It was one of those cliché high school parties that always end with the police arriving at your doorstep. Luckily, I had the best sex of my life.

I finally pulled into my driveway when I saw my mom's car. Shit! She wasn't supposed to be here tonight! I reached out for my phone and checked the time. 12:30 a.m. Great. The lights in the house where all closed except the one in the living room, and I'm positive my brother Franco is watching the football game. It took me a while to elaborate a plan on how to sneak back into the house without anyone noticing me. I looked at the tree next to my balcony window. And that's when it hit me.

My shoes were slippery as I climbed the tree. It was a horrible idea to wear Doc Martens on a rainy night. I put my foot on a loose branch, thinking that it wouldn't snap but it did, scraping my leg. I swore under my breath.

"Finally!" I whispered, grabbing the edge of the balcony. When I got on it, I brushed off the rusty leaves that got stuck on my jeans. I opened the glass doors leading to my room. I examined it shortly to see if my mom would pop up like they do in the movies. When I saw no one, I laughed to myself and did my victory dance.

"I'm the best! I'm the best! I'm-"

"The one who's going to be beyond grounded in a couple of minutes."

I quickly turned around and jumped as I saw my mother's fury. She looked like one of those angry parents you see on tv with their veins popping out of their necks. I tried so hard not to laugh.

"Valentina Camilla Torres, where have you been?" she said in her Italian accent. I hated it when she uses my full name, especially when she says my middle name. Camilla. Ugh, such an ugly name.

I couldn't tell her exactly where I was or what I was doing, I had no other choice but to lie.

"You see mother, I was driving down 50th street, minding my own business, until a mad driver slammed into an ambulance and the ambulance slammed into another driver! It went on for hours! It was like watching a game of dominoes!" I yelled, trying to sound dramatic.

"Really, and which 50th street was it?" she said, sounding sarcastic.

"Uh, the one near the Vatican...?" I lied.

"And how come I never heard it on the news?" she questioned. She was pretty good at acting sarcastic for an old woman.

"Uh, I don't know...?" I said.

"Valentina, answer the damn question: Where were you?" she asked, pissed. I couldn't tell her the whole truth.

"I was out with a friend and we kind of wasted time, happy?" I was done with this interrogation and just wanted to pass out.

"More like got wasted." she spat.

"Mom! I don't drink anymore!" Ok, that was complete bull.

She rubbed her temples, "Oh Lord, what am I going to do with you?" She glanced down at my scraped leg, tsked, and walked out of my room. "And take that ridiculous wig and contacts off your head and face!"

I sighed briefly and changed into a black tank top and grey sweats. I limped my way to the bathroom to apply some alcohol on my leg and limped back to bed.

Now you're probably wondering why I wear wigs and coloured contacts. For two reasons:

1. I play too much. In other words, I'm a professional hoe.