Maybe the world really was conspiring against her. The C-minus that she had gotten on that history test (the one that she had studied hours every night for an entire week for), losing her biology notebook, and permanently staining her best jacket had all defined her week so far. There were little messes in between, stains and paint blotches on the portrait of her life, stuff like Garnet stubbing her toe or waking up late for school two mornings in a row.

Either way, Garnet paced her room, her sock covered feet moving soundlessly as she paced through the small area. Every few moments, once she got to the further most right area of her room, she would peak out her room's single window and look to the grass below. The lawn was neatly mowed, the tree in the front yard's leaves slowly growing shades of brown, orange, and than her mum's minivan and Garnet's old and grey Lincoln, no other car was outside.

From downstairs, the aroma of spaghetti cooking, mixed with the mouth watering scent of garlic bread baking, floated upwards through the air. At least the kitchen wasn't on fire. And though neither of her mothers were known for their cooking, classic stuff like spaghetti didn't take a TV chef to make.

Before Garnet could pace back towards her window, she stopped in front of the small mirror atop her dresser. Her dark brown skin, smooth and acne-free, shone with sweat. Her hair, worn in an afro, seemed to look more square shaped than round. The light blue polo shirt, tie, and dark navy pants looked too big on her, like a kid dressing up in one of their parent's clothes.

Garnet bit her lip and closed her eyes, the image of herself vanishing. When she next opened them, she had to keep herself from shutting her eyes again. Her hair was still a blocky square (how it formed that shape was one of those mysteries that even science probably couldn't solve), she still looked like she'd finished a marathon, and her clothes were so wrinkly. Why hadn't she noticed that before? Surely she could have ironed them.

A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. With a quick jump, the kind her track coach loved to see, she moved to her window. Pearl's old white Honda was busy trying to park.

Just as quickly as she was at the window, she was back at the mirror. Garnet bit her lip before she took in a quick breath through her mouth before slowly releasing it. There had certainly been days where she had looked worse (there were more than a few picture days that she would have gladly forgotten). Wiping the sweat from her face wasn't hard, and smoothing out her clothes was a cinch.

Garnet looked at her reflection and smiled.

"If you want to impress somebody," her mother always said, "then try and dress and look the way that you want them to see you."

Garnet let another breath in and slowly let it out, the girl in the mirror doing the same. Pearl, she realized, certainly could be seeing much, much worse.

She straightened her tie and then headed to the door. As she descended the stairs, there was a knock at the front door.

Though Garnet had picked up her pace, it was her mum who opened the door. By the time she arrived to the door, Pearl and Garnet's mum were already busy chatting.

Pearl stood by the closed door, her arms held in front of her and her hands around her purse. She rocked on her feet, her red hair held back from her face by a mix of hairspray and, what Garnet knew to be completely true, will power. She brightened when Garnet came, her lips pulling back in a pearly white and straight toothed, dentist's dream smile. It contrasted heavily against her skin, a sandy brown color.

"Garnet," she said, stepping forward. "I'm so sorry that I got here late. That little boy that I babysit, Steven, needed a little extra care tonight." The light blue blouse and swishy dark pants she wore were loose on her.

"Oh, it's fine," Garnet said. The one benefit, she supposed, to not having a clock in her room was that she never knew if anyone was late or not. Pearl certainly could have taken her time.

"So you're that girl that Garnet is always talking about," her mum commented.

Pearl looked away from her. "Oh." After a few moments, she finally raised her eyes up from her feet. "She tells me a lot about you too. I can certainly see the resemblance."

Other than her height and a different nose, Garnet being nearly a foot taller than her mum (and mother as well) and having a wider, rounder nose, she was nearly a clone of her mother. Besides that, they had the same body shape and hair texture, though her mother usually was able to make herself look nice in half the time it took Garnet.

Garnet stood taller. "Well," she said, reaching her hand out to Pearl, "there's no use in us just standing around here. Want to head to the kitchen and meet my mom?"

Pearl nodded. She reached a nimble hand out and wrapped it around Garnet's own, holding Garnet's hand with a surprising strength.

As the two walked to the kitchen, Pearl slowed, stopping at times to take in the house around her. What Garnet merely thought of as her living room and hallways were something that Pearl looked over, lips bent in what was neither a frown nor smile.

The kitchen was set into the back of the house, with a floor so shiny that Garnet could see her face in the gleaming white surface. A few cabinets were open, Garnet's mother busy looking around inside. Her curly hair, usually worn free, was held back in a ponytail, and her ankle length blue skirt swished as she moved. She was so busy looking through cabinets that she didn't even turn to face the three that had just entered the room.

Pearl looked over to Garnet and raised an eyebrow. All Garnet could do was nod in response.

Walking to the table, Garnet pulled a seat out and gestured her arm towards it. Pearl smiled at her, giving Garnet the type of smile that had first made butterflies rush through her stomach when they first met as freshmen.

The scraping of wood against the floor was what got her mother to turn. She beamed across the kitchen. "So you must be Pearl. You look even better than the pictures of you that Garnet showed me."

Garnet's face turned hot.

Pearl smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Gem."

"Oh, call me Sapphire please. Surely I'm not old enough to be called a Mrs. yet." She chuckled and gave Pearl a wink.

If Pearl was bothered by the eyepatch Garnet's mother had to wear, white and looking almost bandage like, then she made no comment nor any facial gestures. No recoils or double takes, nor any raised eyebrows and well meaning, but ultimately painful, questions. Neither Garnet nor her mothers had to make a quick recount of the car accident, digging up history that had long since passed.

Garnet smiled. Maybe things really were going to be fine.

Both of her mothers got to work on the food.

"So how long have you known Garnet, Pearl?" Garnet's mum asked.

"Since our first year of high school," Pearl said.

"Two years and a half years," her mother commented. "Quite some time and we're only now meeting you."

"Well, I-"

"You can blame Garnet for that." Her mum broke in. She turned to Garnet. "Were you scared that we would run her off?" She smirked.

Garnet shook her head. "It just never felt like the right time." Her eyes wondered over to Pearl's, their eyes locking together. Beneath the table, their hands interlaced and Garnet's heart began to beat even faster than it did while running.

"You're on the track team with her." Her mother said. "Garnet told us about that. Are you in any other athletic teams?"

"I take ballet if that counts."

Her mother's eye widened. "Really?"

Pearl nodded. "Garnet went to practice with me once. It's not as easy as it looks, but I've been doing it since I was a kid."

"Garnet can dance, though not ballet." Her mother smiled. "Oh, Pearl, you must be wonderful. Are you planning on becoming a professional dancer?"

She shook her head. "I've thought about it, but I have other ideas. I want to either get a teaching degree or study geology. Though I enjoy ballet, I just can't see myself dancing on stages all across the world, everyone looking at me."

"I can understand that," Garnet said.

Pearl squeezed her hand tighter.

Her parents continued asking Pearl questions, everything from stuff about her family and college plans to what her favorite color was (light blue, though Garnet already knew that). By the time the food was out and the other two women sitting around the table, there was only one thing left to ask.

"So, Pearl," Garnet said, glad that her mother hadn't figured out a way to turn spaghetti crispy, "do you like pasta?"

Pearl's nod made both her mothers smile.