consider herself a real Latina?
At that young age, she had felt the sharp shame of having dark skin as opposed to her white family. And because of that hurtful feeling, she could honestly say she’d tried to follow every rule while under the Davenports’ roof. Maybe the arrangement would have worked out if the couple hadn’t told everyone about Ana’s past, making her fresh meat for the other white rich kids to pick apart with their taunts.
Look at her skin, and her weird eyes! My mommy says she’s nothing but a wetback from the wrong side of the tracks…
The living arrangement hadn’t lasted long once physical attacks began to accompany the verbal taunts. The way Ana figured it, she could either get pounded into dirt or defend herself.
It had been Ana’s second taste of reality. The first had been her mother’s not wanting her. Now she’d found out that nobody without her Mexican background ever would, either.
Exhausted, Ana ran her hands through her hair and tugged up her slipping boxers. Taking two steps, she entered her miniscule kitchen area. She poured herself a cup of water from a lukewarm gallon jug sitting on her counter and drank. Then she tossed the plastic cup in the sink and turned to her compact refrigerator.
Opening the door, the quiet hum of the cooler mocked her as she took stock. “Butter, ketchup, expired milk, a Chinese carton that’s seen better days, and whipped cream.” Not the greatest selection. “I’m even out of The Doctor.”
Resigned, she grabbed the whipped cream and shut the door with her hip. After giving the can a hardy shake, she took an experimental taste. Still good to go. She filled her mouth with a hefty squirt.
Leaning against the small counter in her kitchen area, she examined her closet. It was a compact storage space, but perfectly proportioned to her studio apartment. No door covered the tossed-in boots and clothing dangling from wire hangers, but visitors were rare—only Digit, who picked Ana up on the way to SIDE headquarters each morning to make sure she got there on time.
Today being Saturday, they weren’t due at the firehouse till noon. She nibbled on her bottom lip. After she showered and dressed, finding Skates would be next on the agenda. Wouldn’t it be nice if she found the kid asleep at home?
Pushing off the counter, she walked to her closet and retrieved the cardboard container placed on the top shelf—a Nike shoebox on its last leg, held together with various pieces of tape and daps of glue.
Settled on the scarred floor, Ana lifted the lid. Because nobody would see, she smiled.
Buzzzzz.
She flinched at the interruption of her intercom. Quickly, she shoved the box under her twin bed and stood with the can of cream, her heart pounding from the unexpected visitor.
The visitor might be Digit, or even Skates, saving her a trip to his pad to check on him. That wouldn’t stop her from giving the kid a piece of her mind, though.
She pushed the talk button and called out, “Your ass is grass!” Then she pressed the button to unlock the lobby door. She took a moment to kick a few scattered clothes into a pile.
When she heard the knock, she was filling her mouth with another serving of her pitiful whipped cream breakfast.
She opened the door, and sputtered in surprise. Blobs of cream spewed from her lips.
The action sprayed the front of Saven’s gray V-necked sweater and the very tip of his chin with speckles of melted cream.
What the hell is he doing here?
Shifting on the balls of her bare feet, she braced her body, instincts on full alert.
Saven stood frozen, both hands tucked in his black corduroy pants pockets. His gaze riveted on hers. Last night’s intense make-out flew through her mind.
Her face slowly heated from his complete and total attention.
He knew what she was remembering.
“I-I didn’t expect you.” She broke eye contact and did a quick search for a towel. If he’d wanted to harm her, he would have done so by
At that young age, she had felt the sharp shame of having dark skin as opposed to her white family. And because of that hurtful feeling, she could honestly say she’d tried to follow every rule while under the Davenports’ roof. Maybe the arrangement would have worked out if the couple hadn’t told everyone about Ana’s past, making her fresh meat for the other white rich kids to pick apart with their taunts.
Look at her skin, and her weird eyes! My mommy says she’s nothing but a wetback from the wrong side of the tracks…
The living arrangement hadn’t lasted long once physical attacks began to accompany the verbal taunts. The way Ana figured it, she could either get pounded into dirt or defend herself.
It had been Ana’s second taste of reality. The first had been her mother’s not wanting her. Now she’d found out that nobody without her Mexican background ever would, either.
Exhausted, Ana ran her hands through her hair and tugged up her slipping boxers. Taking two steps, she entered her miniscule kitchen area. She poured herself a cup of water from a lukewarm gallon jug sitting on her counter and drank. Then she tossed the plastic cup in the sink and turned to her compact refrigerator.
Opening the door, the quiet hum of the cooler mocked her as she took stock. “Butter, ketchup, expired milk, a Chinese carton that’s seen better days, and whipped cream.” Not the greatest selection. “I’m even out of The Doctor.”
Resigned, she grabbed the whipped cream and shut the door with her hip. After giving the can a hardy shake, she took an experimental taste. Still good to go. She filled her mouth with a hefty squirt.
Leaning against the small counter in her kitchen area, she examined her closet. It was a compact storage space, but perfectly proportioned to her studio apartment. No door covered the tossed-in boots and clothing dangling from wire hangers, but visitors were rare—only Digit, who picked Ana up on the way to SIDE headquarters each morning to make sure she got there on time.
Today being Saturday, they weren’t due at the firehouse till noon. She nibbled on her bottom lip. After she showered and dressed, finding Skates would be next on the agenda. Wouldn’t it be nice if she found the kid asleep at home?
Pushing off the counter, she walked to her closet and retrieved the cardboard container placed on the top shelf—a Nike shoebox on its last leg, held together with various pieces of tape and daps of glue.
Settled on the scarred floor, Ana lifted the lid. Because nobody would see, she smiled.
Buzzzzz.
She flinched at the interruption of her intercom. Quickly, she shoved the box under her twin bed and stood with the can of cream, her heart pounding from the unexpected visitor.
The visitor might be Digit, or even Skates, saving her a trip to his pad to check on him. That wouldn’t stop her from giving the kid a piece of her mind, though.
She pushed the talk button and called out, “Your ass is grass!” Then she pressed the button to unlock the lobby door. She took a moment to kick a few scattered clothes into a pile.
When she heard the knock, she was filling her mouth with another serving of her pitiful whipped cream breakfast.
She opened the door, and sputtered in surprise. Blobs of cream spewed from her lips.
The action sprayed the front of Saven’s gray V-necked sweater and the very tip of his chin with speckles of melted cream.
What the hell is he doing here?
Shifting on the balls of her bare feet, she braced her body, instincts on full alert.
Saven stood frozen, both hands tucked in his black corduroy pants pockets. His gaze riveted on hers. Last night’s intense make-out flew through her mind.
Her face slowly heated from his complete and total attention.
He knew what she was remembering.
“I-I didn’t expect you.” She broke eye contact and did a quick search for a towel. If he’d wanted to harm her, he would have done so by
Similar Books
