“Grandma’s or grandpa’s?” I ask.
“Hmm?” mom mumbles as she puts on another layer of makeup.
“Which one should we go to first?”
Great—another reminder that marriage doesn’t last—at least in her eyes. She told me about her big romantic awakening with dad. How he promised never to hurt her like my grandparents did each other. How he promised to love her till death do them part.
In her eyes, it’s all a lie, and I’m starting to think so, too.
So, here we are: picking which Thanksgiving to go to first, not mentioning dad, and pretending like everything’s okay.
I’m avoiding my “friends,” and mom has a new guy over every week: perfectly normal. And clarentonsecrets—aka. My best friend—is here to document it all.
“Let’s go to grandma’s,” she chrips.
She’s always been her favorite, seeing as gran
Without looking back, I lead him to grandma’s pool house.We never break the kiss as we continue down the stone path. I consider skinny dipping, but it’s November, and the pool is closed. Luckily, the pool house is open. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. His hands trail my body, over my hips, over my chest—my ass.I just know his face is some smeared, muted shade of my lipstick.I’ve never done something like this. I’ve never just taken risks for the hell of it.He pushes me onto one of the couches and peels my dress up.“Wait,” I say, breathlessly panting.“Something wrong?” he whispers roughly. He’s panting, too—hard.I can see that he already has a yellow wrapper from his wallet. This is really happening.“Are you—”“No,” I say.“—okay?” he finishes.“Oh,”
“Iced Matcha Latte for Gen,” Sarah calls. I didn’t even know what Matcha was. I just googled it while waiting for my drink, but I felt like I needed a change. I’m not the Caramel Macchiato Genevieve anymore. It’s weird to say, but it’s true. Crushed tea leaves. The color puts me off, but I’ll try it. I’ve already invested $4.50 into the new me. And Sarah didn’t even add a demeaning nickname to my cup. Progress? I think she moved onto a new victim to torment. I don’t have any fight left in me. I sip the drink slowly, and it’s pleasantly sweet. A little green tasting… don’t ask. It tastes like nature, but not in a gross way. Starting up the car, I head into the city. Approaching the office building that I had a key to just a few months ago, I sigh. I hate awkward interactions, but it’s time. I buzz the gate, stating my name. I was skeptical about if they would remember me, but the guard let me right in. I park in my usual
How many rational excuses can I use to get out of this meeting?"Dad, I'm so sorry, but I actually planned to hang out with my friend Claire," I lie."Nice try," he says sternly.Drake purses his lips in amusement, probably thinking about how juvenile this all is."You know where to meet me," he says before hanging up quickly after."Shit," I mutter after the dial tone."You okay?" he asks, with no sign of sarcasm or plain disinterest."Yeah, I'll be fine," I clasp my hands, shutting myself off emotionally. Before turning to leave, I stutter, "I-I'll think about the yearlong internship."He
July "N-No," I slur, "I'm sooo drunk." The music's blasting at Josh Miller's house party, and I've had 6 too many shots. To teachers, my parents, and adults in general, I'm the perfect kid. I make good grades, I play a sport, and I help people at my many service trips. Nobody would expect me to be blackout drunk, literally swimming in a pool of liquor, as Kendrick Lamar says. My boyfriend disappeared... I don't know, a few hours ago? And I may or may not have experimented with the colorful liquors. I smile to myself. The room is spinning. I cannot return home like this. Good thing I told my parents I'd be at a friend's house. My boy-friend, I laugh out loud. I'm sure I look crazy, but that was funny... you know, the "boy" before "friend". Haha. "Gen, come on," a stern voice says. Buzz kill. Who am I kidding? Nothing could kill my buzz right now. The voice lifts me over his shoulder and soon I'm being plopped on
I wake up to dozens of dings, pings, and whatever other sounds my phone decided to make.All of the sudden, people are extra talkative. So what, a titty pic got let out? Isn't it kind of normalized nowadays?It's not even mine.After last night's revelations, Cas and Sophie tried to reply to clarenton secrets's post, basically saying that I don't have a piercing, so it's not me. Sadly, nobody would listen. A few people stuck up for me, but most either didn't believe it, or didn't want to.I'm contemplating shutting down all my social media and taking a break--the shit's toxic.Who the hell runs clarenton secrets, you ask?Well, here's the answer: we're all asking, too.It could be one vindictive bitch or a group of bitches. Either way, they're some bitches for posting child pornography, among other things.I remember when Katy Schmitt's therapist's notes got leaked. How they managed that, I have no clue. That scandal led to one
The guy, who looks like my boyfriend from a distance, but like a fool up close, is Aaron.He told me he was “busy.”His head is practically touching the table to avoid my line of vision. Sadly, that doesn’t help, as his friends move out of the way when I call his name.I’m not playing the clingy, jealous, loud girlfriend today. First of all, I’m laying low. Second of all, Sarah could just use my weakness to her advantage.My friends are looking to me. Cas especially is waiting for a crazy reaction, but I won’t give one.
We find LeAnn and Sophie at a pretzel shop, and I relax. Food is something we can all agree on… mostly. It only gets weird when LeAnn tries to say that mustard is good on fish. No, just no. “Yes, food,” Cas sighs. “Oh, we’re just getting drinks,” Sophie points at their cups. I can see the disappointment on Cas’s face. “Well, I want food,” she points to herself, “and Gen wants food, so you guys can go on and just text us where you’ll be.” Casandra can switch from my role model to my child in seconds. Food waits on no one. We agree to share a pizza, sa
“Last night was amazing,” Aaron texts. Ehh, it sufficed. I reply with a red heart… I don’t know if I have the right words right now. I have my first day of orientation for my volunteer work at Marie’s Soups in Manhattan. It’s a nonprofit organization that feeds New York’s homeless population. They have locations all over the state. It looks good on college applications, but in general, I like helping people get the bare minimum that they require. Everyone should be able to live comfortably. It’s always baffled me how we have enough resources in the world to feed everyone, yet millions of people are left starving. I blame bil
How many rational excuses can I use to get out of this meeting?"Dad, I'm so sorry, but I actually planned to hang out with my friend Claire," I lie."Nice try," he says sternly.Drake purses his lips in amusement, probably thinking about how juvenile this all is."You know where to meet me," he says before hanging up quickly after."Shit," I mutter after the dial tone."You okay?" he asks, with no sign of sarcasm or plain disinterest."Yeah, I'll be fine," I clasp my hands, shutting myself off emotionally. Before turning to leave, I stutter, "I-I'll think about the yearlong internship."He
“Iced Matcha Latte for Gen,” Sarah calls. I didn’t even know what Matcha was. I just googled it while waiting for my drink, but I felt like I needed a change. I’m not the Caramel Macchiato Genevieve anymore. It’s weird to say, but it’s true. Crushed tea leaves. The color puts me off, but I’ll try it. I’ve already invested $4.50 into the new me. And Sarah didn’t even add a demeaning nickname to my cup. Progress? I think she moved onto a new victim to torment. I don’t have any fight left in me. I sip the drink slowly, and it’s pleasantly sweet. A little green tasting… don’t ask. It tastes like nature, but not in a gross way. Starting up the car, I head into the city. Approaching the office building that I had a key to just a few months ago, I sigh. I hate awkward interactions, but it’s time. I buzz the gate, stating my name. I was skeptical about if they would remember me, but the guard let me right in. I park in my usual
Without looking back, I lead him to grandma’s pool house.We never break the kiss as we continue down the stone path. I consider skinny dipping, but it’s November, and the pool is closed. Luckily, the pool house is open. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. His hands trail my body, over my hips, over my chest—my ass.I just know his face is some smeared, muted shade of my lipstick.I’ve never done something like this. I’ve never just taken risks for the hell of it.He pushes me onto one of the couches and peels my dress up.“Wait,” I say, breathlessly panting.“Something wrong?” he whispers roughly. He’s panting, too—hard.I can see that he already has a yellow wrapper from his wallet. This is really happening.“Are you—”“No,” I say.“—okay?” he finishes.“Oh,”
“Grandma’s or grandpa’s?” I ask.“Hmm?” mom mumbles as she puts on another layer of makeup.“Which one should we go to first?”Great—another reminder that marriage doesn’t last—at least in her eyes. She told me about her big romantic awakening with dad. How he promised never to hurt her like my grandparents did each other. How he promised to love her till death do them part.In her eyes, it’s all a lie, and I’m starting to think so, too.So, here we are: picking which Thanksgiving to go to first, not mentioning dad, and pretending like everything’s okay.I’m avoiding my “friends,” and mom has a new guy over every week: perfectly normal. And clarentonsecrets—aka. My best friend—is here to document it all.“Let’s go to grandma’s,” she chrips.She’s always been her favorite, seeing as gran
NovemberDrakes POV“How much do you want us to take out?” The overalled man grumbles, clutching a clipboard.“Everything. Take out all the office supplies, except for the desk. Put it in a box, and leave it in my office,” I say.I haven’t seen her since she sent me that email: “Going to have to take the day off tomorrow. Family emergency.”All the interns headed back to school or to wherever they traveled from before starting here, including her… I guess. We’re closing the office, and this is my last thing to do before going en route to the dreaded family Thanksgiving.
“I think you missed the exit,” I whine. We’ve been on the road for at least 40 minutes. “I know the way to my friend—and co-worker’s—house, thank you very much,” Don smizes.I roll my eyes. “Would you rather be wrong or late?”She huffs and takes the nearest exit, while I refresh the navigation. Eventually, we end up in Stevie’s neighborhood in some obscure town in New Jersey.As soon as we park in front of the house, the door swings open, but it’s Stevie instead of his brother. They’re roommates.“H-Hey, Don. Gen,” he smiles gingerly.
Drake’s POVWe’re coasting down 9th avenue in pursuit of a seat at one of my favorite restaurants in the city.“Where are we headed?” she asks, tapping the black leather arm rest. She pushes some fly-away curls from her face, staring out the passenger side window.“Just a place.”“As long as I don’t end up getting kidnapped, I’m fine with anything,” she mumbles.“Steak?”“Sure.”I pull the Audi up to the restaurant’s valet with ease
Drake’s POV“What is it now?” I snap.“Problem at the oil rig,” the tattooed beast mumbles.“What fucking oil rig? We have hundreds of—”He dangles a bag of white powder before I can finish my sentence.Oh. Oil rig.I sigh, rubbing my temples. “What kind of problem?”“Some managers”—law enforcement— “stumbled on”—busted—“some weird activity”—our illegal drug business— “among the
I feel like I’m in an action movie. You know, one of those where there’s some social security threat, and the CIA enlists some rogue agents—whom they suddenly trust to competently do their jobs—to “save the world.”I’m rapidly clicking my computer keys, searching for any digital trail from secrets109428@hotmail.com. Subtle.“Find secrets109428@hotmail.com on White Pages Today!” a random link says. No, thanks.