"He's like totally the sweetest! How did you even meet him?" Ishani exclaimed, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Guess it was fate or something," I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Or maybe it was just a PE class, lol, but yeah, he's pretty cool."
The less she knows about my friendship with Bianca the better. Let her focus on Lamar.
"Cool? Girl, he's like way more than cool! He's the whole package," Ishani gushed, leaning in closer.
"Okay, okay, calm down, Ish. He's just a guy," I teased, nudging her playfully. I was happy to get back into our goodnatured conversations even if it meant taking about random boys.
He definitely knows Bianca more than I, he could be very handy.
"Why are you giggling like an evil queen?" Ishani raised her eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"Nothing-nothing!"
***
I couldn't fall asleep at all last night. And when I finally drifted off, I had this horrifying nightmare. Bianca, Dick, Ishani, Lamar, even the nerdy class president – they were all there, blaming me for something. I just couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong.
Mom walked into the room as I sat up in bed, clutching the pillow with sweaty palms, tired eyes still trying to shake off the nightmare that trailed me from sleep.
"What's wrong, Mella-Bella?" she asked, sitting down beside me.
I sighed, struggling to find the words to describe my anxious thoughts. "I had this awful dream... And everyone was there, and they were all blaming me for something."
"Shh, calm down," Mom said. "Let me lie down with you. Tell me what's on your mind."
I started rambling about everything.
"Wait a sec, dear, I'm lost here. I know about Ishani, but who's Bianca?"
"I really want to be friends with her. She's helped me out at school a couple of times."
"So what's the problem? Why can't you be friends with everyone?" She stroked my head.
"I don't think it works that way."
"Why not?"
"Ishani doesn't like cheerleaders. Her friend dumped her and joined the cheerleading squad. Bianca's also a cheerleader, the captain of the team, and the coolest girl in school. She convinced me to get back into sports..."
"So just be friends with Bianca."
"But what if it doesn't work out? What if I annoy Bianca? Then I'll be left high and dry."
Mom chuckled. "Listen, sweetheart, here's what I'll tell you: follow your heart. And if it doesn't work out, forget about them both. You need to learn to be an independent woman. This is your last year in high school, focus on your studies, you won't even remember any of them."
"Fair point."
"Goodnight, Mel-bell."
"Mom, will you stay?"
"Ok, scoot over, I'll be the big spoon. But remember, don't wake me up before noon tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep; I've had a tough week. You've got an early start tomorrow, right? Swimming practice used to start so early for you."
"No, not until 1 p.m. before the match."
"Perfect! And, dear, don't worry about Ishani, her chatterbox mom says her public and personal life is non-existent. She's got no choice; she'll stick by you till the end of high school no matter what. And you, you're smart and beautiful! Soon, you'll lift their dead basketball team off the ground. Thank goodness it's not that silly swimming — your skin would turn into dry leather by thirty. Everyone, off to bed. Love you."
I fell asleep right away. I even felt a little sorry for Jess; she didn't have that kind of bond with mom.
More chapters on my personal Patreon page
New updates:
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
