“I’m done, Cecilia,” my mom said tiredly. “I’m so fuckin’ done with this. Me and your dad don’t ask for much, ya know? Clean up your own shit and don’t be an asshole and you get to live here rent free.”
“I’m twenty-one years old,” Ceecee retorted.
“Exactly,” Mom snapped.
“Ladybug, don’t say anything you can’t take back, baby,” my dad warned softly.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” my mom continued. “I’m cleaning up your shit all the time, you’re comin’ in late all the time, which is whatever, but half the time you’re forgettin’ your key and one of us has to let you in before you wake everyone up. And newsflash, Cecilia, you come into the house late, your dad and I are awake anyhow, because no way are we sleepin’ through that shit. You do whatever the fuck you want and you don’t give a shit who you inconvenience or that your dad is up at two in the fuckin’ morning when you come in, and then getting’ up four hours later to head to the garage!”
“Jesus, I’ll remember my key next time! It isn’t even that late!”
“Holy fuck,” my mom muttered. “She’s not hearing a word I say.”
“Fine, you want me to leave?” Ceecee replied nastily. “I’ll go.”
She stomped away and I could hear her heavy steps all the way up the carpeted stairs.
“Where the fuck is she gonna go?” my mom asked my dad with a huff. “Your sister sure as shit isn’t going to let her stay there.”
“Leo’s?” my dad asked.
“Not fuckin’ likely,” my mom replied with a laugh.
They weren’t talking to me, so I moved silently toward the stairs and straight to my sister’s room. Her door wasn’t shut, probably because she wanted to make a big show of packing up her stuff. That was Cecilia. She’d leave, but she wouldn’t do it quietly.
“Can I come in?” I asked, stepping into the room before she’d answered.
“Whatever,” she snapped. Then her voice changed, just a little. “There’s laundry on the floor. High-step it so you don’t trip.”
I nodded, and did what she ordered until I’d made it to her bed. Sitting down, I reached out, finding her open suitcase beside me.
“Where are you going to go?” I asked as she moved around the room.
“Anywhere,” she mumbled. “Probably California.”
“California?” I asked in surprise, my jaw dropping. “What the fuck are you going to do there?”
“I went to beauty school,” she replied. “I can get a job cutting hair down there.”
“But you don’t know anyone down there.”
“Exactly.”
“Come on, Ceecee. How the fuck will you even get there?”
“Drive,” she answered. “I’ve got plenty of cash saved up. It’ll be fine.”
“Come on, sissy,” I said softly. “Think this through.”
“I have,” she said, startling me with a kiss on my forehead. “I’ve got no friends here, Lil. Mom and Dad are sick of my shit. Hell, I’m sick of my shit. I need a new reality.”
“You’re still gonna be the same you,” I pointed out as she zipped up her suitcase. “It doesn’t matter where you go.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be able to get my shit together down there.”
Ceecee sat down with me on the bed then pulled me down to lie beside her.
“You remember when you used to crawl into bed with me at night?”
“Yeah. You always threw a fit until Mom made me get back into my own bed.”
“And then you’d just wait until I was asleep and crawl back in,” she said with a soft laugh.
“You never noticed until morning,” I said with a shrug.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Then don’t go,” I said. My throat grew tight at the thought of her taking off to California all by herself. My sister was a huge pain in the ass, but she was still my sister.
“I won’t yet,” she replied. “I can’t drive at the moment, anyway. Too much Jose.”
“Ew. Tequila? You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”
“Truth.” She scooted over and I could feel her pulling on the blankets beneath me. “Come on, climb in.”
I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the covers beside her, the events of the day catching up with me. It had been so weird. First, getting ready for prom and being stood up, then Leo, and now Ceecee was telling me that she was leaving the state. Just like that.
I was pretty sure her decision wasn’t a new one, though. Cecilia might be headstrong and self-centered, but she wasn’t spontaneous. If she was leaving for California after a fight with our parents, she’d been planning on it for a while. The fight had just been the deciding factor.
“Your date stood you up?” she asked once we were situated under the blankets.
“Yeah. He didn’t even text with a lame excuse or anything.”
“I guess it beats the alternative. I mean, he could have brought you and then poured pig’s blood over your head and ruined that hot crop top you’re wearing.”