Chapter Two: Page 4Mature

From the look of her slutty yet skillfully applied makeup and the false eyelashes that fluttered when she blinked, someone had taken the liberty to raid my makeup case while I was away.

“Are you going to finally explain what the hell’s up with you?”  She shoved her phone into the waistband of her dark blue skinny jeans and frowned.  “Because you’re acting all weird.  Not that you’re normally not weird, but you’re being…weirder than usual, you know?”

The comment should have bugged me, but I knew that it was just Molly being her stereotypical self.  She was an immature brat who’d decided to become my lifelong tormenter when my mother and I had moved in with her dad.  It didn’t help that I tended to be the least favorite child, and even my biological parent took her side on a consistent basis.  “Thanks, Molly,” I said, trying and failing to keep a voice of dry sarcasm from leaking into my voice as I took a sip of the water Simon had handed me.  “It’s called being in a coma.  Really relaxing vacation.  You should try it sometime.”

“Wilhelmina, be nice you sister,” my mother snapped as she ended the call on her phone with a quick tap of a button.  Of course now would be the moment that she bothered to give me any bit of her attention.  Molly smirked and hid behind the wall she’d created again, pulling her phone out for entertainment.  “Really.  She was so worried sick about you that she volunteered to skip school in order to come spend the day with you.  We didn’t even know that you’d be awake.”

“Is that so?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.  Rather suspicious behavior, but a lot of Molly’s suspicious behavior went unnoticed under my Mother’s regime.  “And what does she have due today?  Homework?  A project?  A paper?  A test, maybe?”  It was the same interrogation that I’d received every time that I’d asked if I could stay home from school due to illness; needless to say, I didn’t get to stay home very often.

“Wilhelmina Gabrielle Percival!” said my mother, her hand flying to her chest in appall at my words.  “Molly has been nothing but nice to you while you’ve been in the hospital.  You need to apologize to her.  Now.”  Molly, being nothing but nice?  That’d be the day the world exploded.  I was half expecting the words ‘I’m a bitch’ to be emblazoned on my body in permanent marker, although it was incredibly likely she wrote it somewhere that it wouldn’t be as noticeable.

Still, after a moment, I finally muttered, “Sorry.”  My hand curled into a fist, scrunching the bed sheets into a little ball.  I didn’t want to apologize, but I’d come to the realization long ago that if I didn’t say sorry, it would end up worse for me in some way.

“And stop using those cheap plastic cups,” she said, rifling through one of the plentiful bags she’d brought with her.  It seemed that even when I was in the hospital, my mother’s inner shopaholic had to be appeased and she had to go shopping for the house again.  This time, it was new glassware.

“Here.”  She pulled the cup from my hand just as I was about to take a sip, leaving the bendy straw clenched between my lips, and threw it out while she struggled to open the difficult cardboard packaging around the glasses.

She managed to open  them, finally, and s she filled a cup with water, Nova leaned in closer to me.  “Why did your mom buy new stuff?  Didn’t she replace the cups in your house less than six months ago?” she whispered in my ear.  I shrugged, making sure to squash down my annoyance at having my drink stolen away.  I didn’t know why my mother liked to shop so much- maybe it was because she didn’t have the resources growing up and she just really liked having such a disposable income, maybe it really was an addiction- but I did know it was a trait she shared with Nova’s mom.  However, while my mother liked to get new things to decorate the house, Nova’s mom liked to throw elaborate banquets and galas for whatever charity case she was funding that month.

The End

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