I'm superficial.
I never talk to friends more than once, my only "talent" was forced upon me by my parents, and most relevant of all-
My only crush is based on a gorgeous appearance.
Even the fact that I like girls makes me unsure. By identifying as bisexual, I am constantly checking my validity.
Through Buzzfeed quizzes, mostly.
It's not like I can come out, either.
Mom and Dad are both surgeons, so most of the time I am left by myself to binge watch The Office and bake muffins.
Beverly's request was something I could hardly turn down.
After all, she practically peer-pressured me into doing it by following me outside.
In other words, I would have run if I had the chance.
Beverly folds her arms across her chest.
"I need to talk to you about something."
"Right," I blurt out. It looks like bluntness runs in the family.
"But first, take me to your house."
As I listen to the cream-smooth sound of her voice, I almost fail to process the last five words.
"...take me to your house."
××××××××××××××
It's supposed to be Saturday. This means I drive to the Allison home, give my generous hour-long piano lesson, then leave. Quickly.
The air-conditioning of my car blows cooly on my sweating skin, making it easier to calm down.
Beverly sits next to me with her legs crossed, wordless.
Biting my lip, I turn on the radio.
I'm still superficial, but at least I know now that my only crush isn't based on looks alone.
YOU ARE READING
It's Saturday.
Historia CortaEvvy Cadence teaches a little girl named Wednesday Allison how to play the piano. It's something to keep Evvy busy every Saturday, and a reason to not be at home. Lessons are also an opportunity to see Beverly Allison, Wednesday's older sister. ...
