The Bad Bitch and The Good Guy

4. Wicked Bitch of the West

With exactly 20 minutes until the fake smiles and awkward conversations enter the home, I take a shower upstairs, washing away all of the bullshit I've encountered throughout the day. Freshly showered, I change into acceptable clothes within minutes before my mother opens the door. She was on the phone, as always.

As she goes to put her coat away, she runs across my bag, scolding me with just her facial features before continuing with her phone call. I sigh before drying my hair with my towel, plopping onto the couch hard enough to cause my mom to sigh.

It's always been this way. In about ten minutes, she stop talking, complain about me, start dinner and then, once my dad gets home, argues nonstop with him before they both go into separate rooms. For years, it has been the same routine but as soon as there's someone over or we leave the house, everything is "practically perfect in every way."

That is why I hate perfect. It's just a front that manipulates other people's frame of mind into believing something false. Now you guys know why I avoid it to the best of my abilities.

I turn on the TV, forgetting that I had the volume up from earlier. Jumping before rushing to turn it down, my mother sending me a dirty look, reaching up to end her phone call. Surprise filling my mind as she breaks common habits.

"Luma, we need to talk about something." She states, a scowl still present on her face. I automatically am on guard, knowing that whatever she plans on saying next probably isn't going to be good. I nod telling her to go on.

"Your father and I-" She stops abruptly, her phone going off and the door bell ringing simultaneously. I rush to the door, trying to get away from the conversation. My mother reaches up her hand to tap her blue tooth, yelling, "Luma! We aren't done yet and you know it." 

I open the door as she answers her phone, gratitude fills my features as I see Celia. Forgetting that I'm supposed to be mad at her, I rush outside after grabbing my jacket. 

"I just needed to grab-" I stop her.

"We need to go or else the Wicked Bitch of the West will stop me. I'm at your place tonight." I rush past her, grabbing Betsy before jumping on. Thoughts flood my head before I can stop them. I start up my bike beginning to drive off as Celia gets in Axel's car. I pretend not to catch their glance at each other as I drive down the road, passing my Dad's car in the process. 

What could she want to say?

She can't mean- She doesn't mean-

What's going to happen to-

My mind is filled with open ended questions, half thoughts with no end. I've gone so deep into my own head, not realizing I was driving without thinking. I drive to Celia's house completely on autopilot.

Celia's house is smaller than mine, more homey and definitely more cute. Her mom is obsessed with home decor, it was her outlet after Celia's dad died. Cancer "runs in their blood" as the Himschuck family would say. Everyone in her family either died from cancer or died young before they could catch it. After her dad died, Celia started to change. Her life wasn't perfect, she didn't have that childhood innocence anymore. Which makes sense as to why she is so hardcore with stuff. 

I walk into her house and take off my boots, another thing her mom gets super on top of. I walk further in the house before Celia and Axel walk in, making a ruckus and almost knocking over the coat rack.

"None of that would've happened if you were looking at the road" Celia laughs.

"It's not my fault the little guy ran straight into the road!" Axel looks at me and grins.