01. why are you wet

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Margo Catalina

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Margo Catalina

chapter one-
why are you wet
 

My heart ached over my wasted summer. It was boring, slow, quiet and not as hot as I'm used to. It wasn't home and I don't think it ever would feel like it. That's probably why my room still remained unpacked to this very day.

"Boxes everywhere, mija!" My mom would click her tongue at me on her way out for work. Lips red, hair gorgeous, face gorgeous and glowing, yet still frowning, disappointed in me.

"I'll help you unpack, is that what it's about?" She knew that wasn't what this was about.

I try not to roll my eyes to not irritate her more, but it was too early for this. I only had a limited number of days to sleep in, before the dreaded first day of school, but she was always barging in asking about boxes. Every. Single. Morning.

I can hardly lift my head up because it is six am, but I work in a few hours so I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep anyways at this rate.

Behind Ma I see Jillian's short, slim figure, trying to peak over Ma's fuller, slightly taller build.

"She can't." Jillian whines. "She promised to go on a run with me."

I groan, this was all too much. I was still adjusting, stretching my bones. I still felt this sense that I didn't belong here.

Mom and Jill can play pretend like everything is okay in perfect suburbia world, but it wasn't. It was the opposite, my life as I had knew it had completely crumbled to the floor.

But we didn't talk about it, ever, not ever. Ma would get scary if we did. It was best to leave it alone, settle in, stay a while.

It was the whole point of me getting a job in the first place. Going on excruciating mile long runs with my sister to help her prepare for cross country tryouts, helping my mom decorate the house.

House not a home, not mine anyway.

"Alright, I'm up, morning ruined." I glare at the two ladies that managed to give me a migraine at six in the morning.

"Well you better help her unpack." Ma's accent is heavy when she grows irritated, she's pointing at my sister in the doorway, who's laughing.

Ma looks down at her, pursing her lips, rolling her eyes.

"Nobody helped me unpack my room." Jillian argues, shrugging.

The Babysitter Next DoorOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora