My Kind Of Perfection(EDITING)

2. My Crazy Best Friend

I put another spoonful of Cheetos into my mouth and continue typing up my final English essay. Most graduates were done weeks ago, but my online deadlines have always been flexible. Crazy to think that High School passed me by without me actually stepping foot in a school.

Emmaline, our housekeeper, startles me with a clearing of her throat. "Miss Kasei."

I turn to her, sheepishly putting my spoon down in anticipation of what she's going to say.

"Don't you know how unhealthy that is?" She scolds me and sits a green smoothie down beside my laptop. Called it.

"It's my off day." I mumble through my full mouth. Being a ballerina means a strict schedule of what you're allowed to eat and when. I take full advantage of my cravings when I have a day off from dieting.

"I know. We have a chart in the kitchen. That's why I put a few crushed chocolate chips in your morning smoothie." Emmaline gestures to it, and picks up the bag of crushed Cheetos. "Firstly, I don't understand why you crush these things up and eat them my spoonful-"

"That way I don't get cheesy fingers, Em." I wiggle my fingers and gesture at my laptop. "I have things to do and don't want my keyboard to get dirty, I just bought this."

She narrows her eyes at me. "A solution to that would be not eating these at all." She rattles the bag.

"They're halved, I can measure how many of them I eat this way."

She gives me a blank look. "Doesn't make it any more healthy."

"Well..."

"-And...where did you get those anyways." She cuts me off, crossing her round arms in front of her. "I know I din't buy them and your mother would never allow these to be in the house."

"Dakota." I mumble.

My crazy best friend.

Emmaline sighs, the furrow in her brow deepening. "Momma mia."

"What? She left them here last time she came over."

"I'm not going to say anything." She shakes her head.

"Em..."

She waves her hand behind her and leaves the room muttering: "I give my girls the good wholesome food and they prefer the bagged chemicals instead."

"Thanks for the smoothie Em!" I call as she stomps down the stairs.

Emmaline, who I prefer to call Momma Em, or just Em, is our housekeeper/nanny/cook. Its strange that we have a housekeeper to do stuff for us, and a security gate to keep unwanted people out, but I suppose when your Mother is basically a celebrity, and you've lived with it your whole life, you get used to it.

Emmaline and her family came to America about 25 years ago, she had 3 kids at the time, and no experience doing much. She ran into my Dad at a coffee shop and, the kind soul he is, he hired her on the spot to clean around the house when they weren't home, and cook some meals when they were. Flash forward about six years. Emmaline has two more kids, my mother got pregnant with me, and suddenly, the 'strange Italian cleaning lady they never saw' became a good friend, and her 5 young kids became a part of our family. My parents got a divorce when I was two.

I sigh and close my laptop, mind now distracted.

I don't remember my father. All I know of the situation is one day Dad didn't come home, and the next day while I'm at the store with Em and her girls, Mother had a 'freedom' party. A few days later all his stuff was gone, and my mother threw herself into her ballet. As a young girl with suddenly no parents ever in sight, I told my mom I wanted to be a Ballerina. That's how I could spend time with her.