eyes with dark top lashes that could probably sweep dust.
All any man wanted to do to me was wrap their hands around my tiny waist and sit me on their lap just to get the perfect view. And I cannot say I blame them. It was only my fault since I wore hugging dresses and high heels. Maybe I wanted men to bother me, maybe I liked the attention.
Derek pulled up to my home, where my mother was outside making my little sister pose for the camera. I instantly smiled as she posed like a little lolita, then I frowned of disgust. That was any sick man's peeping show.
“Mama!” I shouted as I jumped out the truck, swinging my purse in different directions.
She began to untangle her fresh curls, as her six inch heel slid into the dirt of the lawn. “Baby, where have you been? You know there are murderers loose.” Mama held in her belly as she showed me how she squeezed into my new dress I had bought.
However, I did not buy it for her. “That's mine. Take it off!”
“Baby, I have to go to New York. You know that,” she whispered as she waved for Derek to come inside. But, he was already on his way inside—ready for a hot plate.
“You don't have to invite him over every night,” I muttered. “He's disgusting.”
“Then, why would you ride with him?” she snapped as she ran inside to fix her tangled curls.
“Because you won't buy me a car.”
“Leanna, the world doesn't work that way,” she said. “You should know that by now.”
In disgust, I sat at my usual seat at the dinner table. Mama, made the same thing three nights in a row—meat balls and rice. She was not a very tasty cook; maybe a reason she could never keep a man.
I pushed my plate away as Derek came stumbling into the dining room. Instead of sitting across from me, he made it a priority to sit right next to me—nearly touching my elbow with his.
I hated to watch people eat because it made my stomach queasy. Especially, watching Derek as he struggled to get all the rice out his overgrown mustache—a mustache that belonged on a biker rather than a handyman. To make things worse, his hair that had not been cut since 1992 made its way into my plate.
“Ew!” I shouted as his hair splashed sauce in my eye.
“Let me help you out,” he said as he leaned over closer to me. “It's just a little sauce.”
“No, get away!” I cried. “Just leave me alone.”
Mama came running into the room, “What is your problem now? You're always being so damn dramatic about something. You're seventeen but sometimes you act like you are ten.”
I sighed and tried to hold my tears back—but one made its way down my cheek. I did not know what I was crying for since it was not my time of the month. I stared at my reflection in my spoon and my tears came out like a waterfall. My lips that already looked fake, looked larger and my eyelashes looked like some drag queen glued them on me. Even though people paid money to have those two things, I wanted to either pop a needle in it or cut it off.
“She does this sometime,” Mama whispered to Derek as if I were not even there. “You'll get used to it eventually.”
I instantly stopped crying, “What does that mean?”
“I told you I’m going to New York,” she snapped. “Me and your sister will be gone for a good three months for this art competition show. Leanna, I’ve been talking about this show for the last five weeks. Do you not listen to me?”
“It's called selective listening, and no I do not listen to you. I thought we discovered this years ago,” I muttered.
Mama smirked with suspicion as she put her pearls on. “I swear, you are so lucky I’m in a good mood or your ass would be outside,” she snapped. “Derek, will take you to school and bring you home; and hopefully teach you to cook,” she laughed, but nothing was funny.
Just when I thought Mama would never make it as a big time artist, she got her big break. Well, everyone thought she got it, but Mama was just like me. She used her
All any man wanted to do to me was wrap their hands around my tiny waist and sit me on their lap just to get the perfect view. And I cannot say I blame them. It was only my fault since I wore hugging dresses and high heels. Maybe I wanted men to bother me, maybe I liked the attention.
Derek pulled up to my home, where my mother was outside making my little sister pose for the camera. I instantly smiled as she posed like a little lolita, then I frowned of disgust. That was any sick man's peeping show.
“Mama!” I shouted as I jumped out the truck, swinging my purse in different directions.
She began to untangle her fresh curls, as her six inch heel slid into the dirt of the lawn. “Baby, where have you been? You know there are murderers loose.” Mama held in her belly as she showed me how she squeezed into my new dress I had bought.
However, I did not buy it for her. “That's mine. Take it off!”
“Baby, I have to go to New York. You know that,” she whispered as she waved for Derek to come inside. But, he was already on his way inside—ready for a hot plate.
“You don't have to invite him over every night,” I muttered. “He's disgusting.”
“Then, why would you ride with him?” she snapped as she ran inside to fix her tangled curls.
“Because you won't buy me a car.”
“Leanna, the world doesn't work that way,” she said. “You should know that by now.”
In disgust, I sat at my usual seat at the dinner table. Mama, made the same thing three nights in a row—meat balls and rice. She was not a very tasty cook; maybe a reason she could never keep a man.
I pushed my plate away as Derek came stumbling into the dining room. Instead of sitting across from me, he made it a priority to sit right next to me—nearly touching my elbow with his.
I hated to watch people eat because it made my stomach queasy. Especially, watching Derek as he struggled to get all the rice out his overgrown mustache—a mustache that belonged on a biker rather than a handyman. To make things worse, his hair that had not been cut since 1992 made its way into my plate.
“Ew!” I shouted as his hair splashed sauce in my eye.
“Let me help you out,” he said as he leaned over closer to me. “It's just a little sauce.”
“No, get away!” I cried. “Just leave me alone.”
Mama came running into the room, “What is your problem now? You're always being so damn dramatic about something. You're seventeen but sometimes you act like you are ten.”
I sighed and tried to hold my tears back—but one made its way down my cheek. I did not know what I was crying for since it was not my time of the month. I stared at my reflection in my spoon and my tears came out like a waterfall. My lips that already looked fake, looked larger and my eyelashes looked like some drag queen glued them on me. Even though people paid money to have those two things, I wanted to either pop a needle in it or cut it off.
“She does this sometime,” Mama whispered to Derek as if I were not even there. “You'll get used to it eventually.”
I instantly stopped crying, “What does that mean?”
“I told you I’m going to New York,” she snapped. “Me and your sister will be gone for a good three months for this art competition show. Leanna, I’ve been talking about this show for the last five weeks. Do you not listen to me?”
“It's called selective listening, and no I do not listen to you. I thought we discovered this years ago,” I muttered.
Mama smirked with suspicion as she put her pearls on. “I swear, you are so lucky I’m in a good mood or your ass would be outside,” she snapped. “Derek, will take you to school and bring you home; and hopefully teach you to cook,” she laughed, but nothing was funny.
Just when I thought Mama would never make it as a big time artist, she got her big break. Well, everyone thought she got it, but Mama was just like me. She used her
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