The List

chapter 9

 Angelica found me as soon as the bell rang for lunch that following Wednesday, "When are you going to see her?" She asked, walking close to me, her head ducked, as if she could be invisible, which was impossible since five or six balloons were floating behind her.

Her 15th birthday.

"I'm not sure," I replied honestly, "Probably before I go home."

In Hispanic culture, she would be celebrating her Quinceañera, a coming of age tradition that shed light of her first steps into womanhood.

"I went this morning, not sure when Dad will visit though," She said this in a somber voice, almost void of feeling.

We were not Hispanic however, nor did we have a big family to enjoy that huge tradition.

I frowned and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder, "Hey, how are you doing?"

She shrugged absentmindedly, "Every year's the same Alice. Just have to wait it out." It broke my heart that Angelica didn't get the normal teenaged birthday, a day that was supposed to be her favorite day of the year, but was instead the worst.

Instead, she would get whatever I prepared for her at home. And similar to a Quinceañera, she would be spending it with family, although we were tiny in comparison to Hispanic families.

"I have a surprise for you at home," I squeezed her shoulder, "Grandma sent you a present, and I have a cool present of my own this year," I told her, in hopes of raising her spirits.

She grinned wryly at me, "You always fail at this sort of stuff Alice, just face it, you're not cut out to be like a mom- at least not yet."

My hand dropped from her shoulder and I stopped walking with her. I knew she was acting out of the pain of visiting Mom today, but her words still stung.

"I did this because you're my sister Angelica," I said this lowly, as to prevent others from hearing, though people were starting to stare at the two stilled bodies in the middle of the busiest hallway of school.

Her eyes were like hot flames, the brown in them receding and a bright orangish color flamboyantly sparking. She did look so much like our mom, and in a way, this is how I pictured her, a carbon copy of my sister.

"I need you to be my sister Alice, but sometimes you act as if you're my mom- newsflash Alice! We don't fucking have a mom!"

She was fierce and strong and willing, everything I was not, everything I lacked. I felt myself shrink back farther and farther away from her, a burning in my nose building.

"I'll see you at home," She said sharply, turning on her feet and walked away, pushing against the flow of people, not bothering to apologize.

The first hot tear fell onto my face and I quickly wiped it away; there was a stigma of shame that adhered to crying at school, and I was no opposer to that. Wiping the messy tears off my cheeks, I shuffled away from that hallway, my feet not sure of a destination but hell, I had to get away from there.

My body was caught by another, a pair of strong hands holding my shoulders square, the owner looking down on me concerned, unexpectedly.

"Alice?" Eros' voice was worried and he absently wiped a tear that strayed on my cheek. "What's wrong?" His eyes flickered with a concern that only recently became available for me. It appeared that our bonding over understanding's and tattoos was enough for him to extend to me a kindness he only ever extended to Ryder.

It seemed, all the negative rumors that had reached me about him were all being proved false.

"Nothing," I swiped the wetness from my cheeks roughly, the crack in my voice expressing otherwise.