{~~~~TORI~~~~}

If Mami was awake, she'd ask me what's wrong. I think she'd be able to see that I'm upset; she'd know me so well. Trina, she wouldn't care, so that's why I get in Mami's bed and tell her why I'm feeling so down. I lay on my side so I can watch her while I talk to her.

"Ms. West is mad at me," I say.

At this point, I'm sure Mami would want to know why I think that.

I don't keep her waiting.

"She's been ignoring me. She won't look at me. She doesn't talk to me. She just…I don't know."

Of course Mami doesn't answer me. She never does; but I think she would want to know why I think my teacher is ignoring me on a personal level. She'd probably tell me that my teacher has got a lot of students; that maybe she's not ignoring me; that maybe she's just busy….

Only…

"I'm supposed to be her TA." I explain. "She told me that I would have to stay late with her sometimes and help her with stuff, but she hasn't asked me for help with anything in two weeks! She's been ignoring me." I finish firmly; implying that that's how I've come to the conclusion that my teacher is mad at me.

There's no response to that. Only silence.

I sigh and flip over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. I feel awful all of a sudden. Ashamed even. This is supposed to be Mami's time and I always come in here talking completely about myself.

I bet if Trina was awake, she'd agree with me.

But rationally I know that since Mami never changes, there's really nothing new with her to talk about. So that feeling of selfishness that I have right now, I try to send it away.

I play the game again. I imagine Mami would ask me what I think I've done to make Ms. West mad at me.

I shrug my shoulders. I don't know what I did. The last time she talked to me, she was dropping me off at home from school a couple Tuesdays ago. I didn't want her to; I didn't want to get in her car, but she wouldn't go away until I did. And while I was in her car, I panicked, but she was really nice to me. She was patient, and she called me baby just like her mom does. It made me calm down a little, especially when she touched my face softly.

I smile a little at the memory. Feeling special because it's her rule to not touch her students. But she broke it for me.

Absentmindedly, my hands go to my hair, just playing with it while I think. At first, I don't realize I've put it in the same braid Ms. West put it in when we got stuck in the elevator at school. But then I suddenly realize I don't have a hair tie to put at the end. Rather than take the braid out, I put the end into a loose knot. I like having a reminder that Ms. West touched me.

"No, Mami." I say sadly. "I can't think of anything that would make her mad at me. She dropped me off and then the next day she was ignoring me." I answer my mother's unasked question.

'Maybe she's just Moody, like Josie,' I imagine Trina would tell me if she was awake. And just when I think my big sister is genuinely trying to cheer me up, she'd add on something like, 'Or maybe you're just annoying.'

I smile a little to myself as I begin to play with Mami's hair. If Trina really did say that, I think me and her would start squabbling. I'd declare I'm not annoying, she'd insist that I am, and from there we'd just go at it.

But then I sigh and my smile drops. Because Trina doesn't say anything. Ever. I just make up her parts. So that must mean I think I'm annoying. And maybe I am.

Suddenly, I feel really heavy. Like a burden. I don't want to annoy Ms. West.

I imagine Mami would try to comfort me, to make me feel better. She wouldn't want me to feel like this. She'd want me to be happy; so she'd say something like, "Maybe your teacher's not mad at you. Maybe she's upset. Going through something in her own personal life."

And I'd think she has a point, but I still feel it's me. Personally. She's mad at me. Because when Ms. West does look at me, her eyes are hard, emotionless. And when she does talk to me, she's short, and snappy. It makes me feel like she hates me.

So I change the subject, not wanting Mami to try and belittle what I'm feeling anymore.

"I asked Papi if he wanted to come today. But he had to pull another double shift. I'm sorry." I apologize; because he does it for me. I've offered to get a job so many times to help with the constant hospital bills, but he always tells me no. To focus on school. So double shifts are the only way he can keep up with the bills. And even then he still sometimes comes up short. That's when Dr. Brown will chip in, offering my dad a reprieve from payment "out of the kindness of his heart."

That's why I work really hard at Hollywood arts. I'm gonna be famous and rich, that way I can pay for the bills and Papi won't have to pull anymore double shifts. He won't have to work at all. But…

The thing I'm scared to tell Mami and Trina? Papi still doesn't come on his days off. He says it's hard for him to see them like that. So I don't know what excuse I'll use once I finally take over the bills, but I've got years to think of something.

For now, I just always tell them he's working a double shift. Even when he's not. They don't need to know he doesn't want to see them.

"Don't worry, even if you guys weren't sleep, I'm sure Papi would still have to work a double shift just to keep up with Trina's Diva-ness." I joke guiltily after my repetitive apology.

Of course they don't laugh, but I pretend to hear them do it anyway before I change the subject again.

"I'm going to Amber's birthday party Wednesday." I tell them.

I'm sure Trina would remind me that Riley and Amber are twins; that I'm not going to just Amber's party. But I am. The twins say they don't like sharing their birthday, but I bet it's really Riley who doesn't want to share. I don't think Amber would mind.

"We celebrated Riley's birthday a month ago." I explain. "Everyone was there; even Riley and Amber's Dad came, and he hardly ever goes over to their place. Well, I take that back. Everyone didn't go. Ms. West wasn't there, which didn't surprise me. I've never seen her go to her mom's house. At least, she's never gone over while I was there."

I bet Trina would point out to me that I'm talking about Ms. West too much. She might even tease me about having a crush on her.

I roll my eyes even though Trina didn't really say anything. I know that came from me; from my head. And I don't understand why I thought it in the first place. I can't have a crush on Ms. West. I don't have a crush on Ms. West. She's a woman, and I'm not gay. Okay, maybe I stare sometimes because she's pretty, especially her eyes. They're gorgeous. I could stare at them all day. That doesn't make me gay. People like looking at pretty things, don't they?

I shake my head and change the subject again because my thoughts are getting weird. Embarrassing even.

"The dance is coming up, a week from today!" I announce brightly.

I imagine Trina would sigh heavily and remind me that I've already told them a million times. And I have. I'm so excited. I've never been to a school dance before and I'm looking forward to a new experience to share with Mami and Trina. Because to be honest, sometimes I run out of stuff to talk about.

So, in my mind, Mami tells me she wants to hear all about it. What boy I go with, what songs I dance to, what I eat-.

I'm sure she'd list more things, but I get a text message, interrupting my thoughts.

I check my phone and nearly faint. It's Ms. West. She wants me to meet her at a place called Karaoke Dokie at eight.

I have no idea where that is, so I google it. And according to the web, and the Saturday bus schedule, I have to leave right now if I want to make it. I don't even have time to change my clothes. I'm practically in pajamas as I wasn't expecting to be anywhere except in this hospital room all day.

I kiss Mami on the cheek and tell her I love her before going to do the same to Trina. If she was awake, I'm absolutely sure she'd hate it; but I always do it anyway.

Once outside the hospital, I smile brightly. I always do when I can visit my mom and sister without running into Dr. Brown.

{~~~O~~~}

Karaoke Dokie is kind of an old, trashy, rundown place. I notice right away. In fact, I was prepared for it because it's in a bit of a rundown neighborhood; and now I'm regretting the decision I made about my clothes. Sure, I'm in pants, but they're thin, and my cami…just makes me feel really exposed when I walk up to the building and there are a lot of guys standing around outside, looking at me.

Like the way Dr. Brown looks at me sometimes.

My stomach hurts.

I see Ms. West standing at the entrance, waiting for me. Instinctively, I feel better, happier at the sight of her. But as I get closer my stomach starts to ache even worse than before. She's practically glaring at me; eyes narrowed and lips pressed firmly together in disapproval at the sight of me. Her eyes flicker to the right side of my chest, and I remember the braid. I forgot I put it in. The last time she saw that I put my hair in this style, she kinda smiled.

This time she doesn't. She kinda rolls her eyes.

I bite my lip, trying to ignore the fleeting shot of pain I felt against my heart. I would give anything to know what I did wrong so I could apologize and never do it again; but I'm too scared to ask. I'm too scared to talk to her period.

She goes inside without a word, expecting me to follow, and I do. But not before taking the braid out.

I find Ms. West sitting down at the bar and I sit on the stool to her right. I'd ask her why we're here, but I'm still too scared to talk to her. Trina thinks Ms. West is moody like Josie, but Josie's not this moody. Sure, sometimes she ignores my calls, and she's rude, and sometimes she can be downright cold, but she's my best friend apart from André. I know she doesn't hate me.

Ms. West definitely hates me.

She won't even look at me as she orders herself some food before taking out a notebook and a pen.

Again, I want to ask her what we're doing here, it's the least she can tell me. But the waiter asks me what I want to eat before I can get up the courage. Truth is, I'm starving but I didn't bring any money. I was gonna eat something at the hospital. I never have to pay for a meal there.

I tell the server I just want water. He gives me a nasty look, like I'm a cheapskate.

I probably won't drink the water when he gives it to me.

Suddenly I realize we're seated in front of a small stage. There's an announcer and he calls a volunteer up. I should've expected that. This place is called Karaoke Dokie after all.

I admit. I start to panic a little. What if she brought me here to make me sing? Mr. Sikowitz is always going on and on about how I need to get more confidence on stage…But then, why would Ms. West bring me instead of Mr. Sikowitz my mind starts to rationalize.

I calm down, my thoughts go back to wondering why we're here.

I glance at Ms. West; still she says nothing to me, so I look back at the stage.

A man gets up there, picks a song and starts singing. He's terrible.

Ms. West tunes him out and starts losing herself in her phone.

I watch him because I have nothing else to do. I try my best to avoid looking in Ms. West's direction, but out of the corner of my eye I notice she has a pair of scissors and is cutting little snips of her notebook.

That's weird. But at the same time, it kinda makes me a little less afraid of her. I know that's kinda backwards. I should be more afraid because now I know she carries around scissors; but… I don't know. I guess seeing her play with something out of boredom, even if the thing she's playing with is a pair of scissors… It just makes her more human, if that makes any sense.

Abruptly, Ms. West looks up at me. She catches me staring at her…and I keep staring. I don't know what's wrong with me. I want to look away because I don't want to make her mad, or have her think I'm weird. But at the same time, I can't look away. I feel trapped and a little panicky. My heart is just abusing my chest right now.

Ms. West narrows her eyes at me before pointing to the stage, where the man is singing. I know she wants me to watch him instead of her. I nod my head and quickly divert my attention. I don't take my eyes off of him until he's done. And when he gets off stage, I clap politely. At least he tried. He's braver than I am.

Next person on stage is a girl about my age. She's okay. She can hold a note, but she has a pitch problem sometimes. If she came to Hollywood Arts, the teachers would fix that. She'd be a better performer within the space of a month.

I glance over at Ms. West because I saw her move out of the corner of my eye. She's writing in her notebook.

The server has come back and he places my water in front of me before placing Ms. West's food in front of her. It looks, and smells so dang good.

And I'm so hungry! I'm so tempted to drink my water, just to fill the emptiness in my stomach. But as I've previously decided, I don't touch my water.

I find myself looking over at Ms. West's food. She doesn't touch it. Instead, she practically guzzles down her drink. I frown when I catch a whiff of it.

Alcohol.

I hate alcohol.

"You shouldn't drink and drive," I blurt out.

I look away, clasping my hands together tightly in my lap. Ms. West is mad at me. I know that. Why did I say that to her? I bet she hates me even more. I bet she's glaring me.

I glance up at her before I realize I'm going to, otherwise I would've stopped myself.

She is staring at me.

"I'm sorry." I say.

Without a word, she turns from me and watches the person on stage. I breathe deeply, feeling my eyes prickle at the sudden hurt I feel in my chest. Ms. West is my favorite teacher. I don't know why. I really don't. I just like her; but she hates me and it hurts my feelings. Mostly because I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'd fix it if I knew.

I watch Ms. West jot down notes in her notebook. She even smiles a little, nodding her head. It takes me a minute to realize she's nodding her head in time to the melody. To the person singing up on stage. As I listen, I realize whoever's singing has a really good voice. Like really good.

I look up at the stage, curiosity taking over me and I freeze. My whole body just goes rigid.

It's a girl, about my age; but not really. She's a year younger than me.

My stomach hurts. My chest too.

I drink some of my water, not caring that the server might have spit in it to spite me. My throat is so dry.

My hands start to shake and I sit on them immediately. I know what's happening to me. I'm panicking. I'm panicking because I understand why we're here. Ms. West is scouting. She's looking for kids with undiscovered talent to bring to our school. And I'm panicking because I don't want the girl on that stage to go to Hollywood Arts.

"I have to use the bathroom." I announce.

I whole heartedly expect Ms. West to ignore me, but she says, "Wait."

I stop in my tracks and look at her.

She pulls something out of her purse and hands it to me. A handful of baby wipes.

I have no idea what I need them for until I get to the bathroom. There's no toilet paper. There's no soap, and the toilets are not exactly clean.

I squat over the cleanest one I could find and stare at the hole at the bottom of the stall door so I don't feel anxious in this cramped space.

Upon exiting the bathroom, I realize Ms. West is gone. At least, she's not sitting at the bar any longer. I scan the dingy restaurant for about five minutes before finding her. She's near the stage, talking to the reason I practically just had an anxiety attack.

I'm so tempted to leave, to just walk out the front door. Not just tempted either, I eye the door to see if I'll be able to make it. Then I look at Ms. West, trying to make sure she's not looking my way.

She is. Dang it.

She's looking straight into my eyes. Even with this amount of distance between us, I feel trapped again. Like I can't drop, or hold, her gaze. She lifts her hand up and beckons me with her index.

I grimace.

I really hate that. I'm so ready to bolt, without even thinking about it, without even making a conscious effort to do so. I'm so ready to run. I can just feel it, but something stops me. The look in Ms. West's eyes. It's as if she knows what I'm about to do, and her eyes are screaming 'don't you dare!'

I make my way over to her on shaky legs, refusing to look at the girl. I keep my eyes on Ms. West.

"Kayla," she speaks. I visibly wince at the girl's name. "This is Tori, my TA. If you accept the scholarship…"

I shake my head out of reflex. Fear and anxiety bubbling up in my chest. She can't come to my school. She can't.

"Well, if that's how you make people feel welcome, there's no way in hell I'm going to some snotty school." She, Kayla, says.

I look up, just as she points to me, indicating my less than welcoming behavior.

"Excuse me one moment," I hear Ms. West say.

I have absolutely no time to respond before Ms. West is breaking her rule. She's touching me; but not in a good way. She grabs the upper part of my arm and drags me to the side.

It hurts.

"What the fuck is wrong with you." Ms. West curses at me. My eyes prickle and I gasp. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I made her so mad. Seeing her so mad at me hurts way worse than the way she grabbed my arm.

"I'm"- I start to apologize.

"Close your mouth." She cuts me off.

I snap my mouth shut.

"Your actions are not your own when you're out with me, do you understand?"

Before I can tell her that I do, she continues,

"You represent me. And you represent Hollywood Arts. You put your own biases, your own opinions, your own feelings, your own prejudices, your own personal shit, to the side! Understand?"

I don't answer immediately 'cause last time she asked me that she wasn't done talking and I don't want to interrupt her.

Then her glare gets even more tense and she puts her face closer to mine. "I said, do you understand?" She growls at me.

I nod my head.

"I want that kid to audition for Hollywood Arts Monday morning, make it happen or else." She continues to glare at me.

"Yes ma'am." I whimper, fighting the urge to cry.

I walk back over to Kayla. She's still where we left her; and I think the only reason she hasn't left is because she was enjoying watching me get yelled at by my teacher.

"I'm" –I start off my apology.

"Keep that." She interrupts me. "I don't care about your apology. I'm not going to a new school, with snotty rich kids where I'll know no one." She declares.

"You'll know me." I try.

"You say that likes it's a good thing." She spits back at me.

I bite my lip, my eyes prickling again. I want to cry so bad. I don't know how I'm supposed to convince Kayla to come to Hollywood arts. I don't want her to come to Hollywood arts.

I look back at Ms. West. She's got her arms crossed over her chest, and she's staring at me.

But as much as I don't want Kayla to come to my school; I don't want Ms. West to hate me more than she already does.

"Please." I beg, when I turn back around to face Kayla.

She tilts her head to the side, studying me, then studying Ms. West behind me. "You'll get in a lot of trouble if I refuse." She guesses.

"Yes." I say meekly.

"All the more reason to say no." she stares at me, gauging my reaction.

I bite my lip. "What will it take?" I sigh.

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean."

"I want you to say it though." She persists.

"I'll do anything." I relent.

"Anything?" she smiles.

I nod my head.

"For how long?"

I frown. "For how long what?"

"For how long are you willing to do anything." She emphasizes.

I shrug my shoulders.

"Seriously?" she questions, glancing from me to Ms. West, then smiling brightly. "A month," she says, putting the terms out there.

I show my agreement by holding my pinky up. She links hers with mine before kissing mine as I simultaneously kiss hers. Just like we used to do when we were little.

{~~~O~~~}

Kayla passed her auditions yesterday. Ms. West told me. She told me to make her feel welcomed. That's the only thing Ms. West said to me all day.

For some reason, I didn't realize I'd be seeing her today. Who starts a new school on a Tuesday?

But there she is; her locker next to mine. I don't even know how that happened.

She smiles at me, but I don't smile back. It's not a nice smile. It's a "remember you promised to do anything" smile.

"I have English with Hart first period." She says.

I'm not trying my best to make eye contact with her while she speaks because her breath smells like alcohol.

I hate alcohol.

But if I was trying to make eye contact with her, it'd be nearly impossible because of her sunglasses. Who wears sunglasses inside of a building?

"Walk me to class." She commands.

I nod my head in consent. Even if I never promised to essentially be her slave, I'd still walk her to class. I was going there anyway. I have first period with Mr. Hart too.

"Yo, chica! Wait for me!" I hear André yell behind me just as I'm about to enter the classroom with Kayla.

I freeze, suddenly remembering that me and André walk to class together every morning. I just forgot today because I've got a lot on my mind.

Kayla turns around before I do, and when I finally catch up, I notice that André and Kayla are staring each other down. She was the first girl André ever hit, but it was a long time ago. I think he's trying to figure out why, or if, she looks familiar.

"I remember you." André's the first to speak.

"I remember you." She retorts.

"I was hoping you'd never forget," he says, his voice low and full of warning.

They continue to stare at each other, and I have a feeling neither one is going to relinquish to the other any time soon, so I push them both into class.

Me and André take a seat, not next to each other because we already know Mr. Hart will only end up separating us.

Kayla makes her way up to our teacher's desk.

I'm going through bag to get my notebook when I hear, "My face is up here, you fucking perv."

Everyone starts laughing, even André. He's probably the loudest of all.

I look up toward the front, frowning. Kayla has her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at our teacher. Mr. Hart is crimson. "O…out!" He stutters, pointing toward the door. "P-Principal." He barely gets out.

"I don't know where the principal is, Mr. Pervert."

"I-I…Y-you…" Mr. Hart gasps, his faces getting redder. His speech getting worse.

I feel sorry for him immediately.

"T-Tori…" He points at me, and I know he wants me to take Kayla away.

I get up and walk Kayla outside.

And as soon as I leave the classroom, the panic starts to come to me. What if Kayla gets suspended and has to be picked up from school? What if her brother sees me?

"Where's the bathroom?" I hear Kayla ask me.

"Is your brother coming?" I blurt out. I can't help it. I need to know. I need to know now.

She frowns at me. "Why would Hudson come up here?"

"If you get suspended," I clarify. "Is he the guardian the office would have to call to pick you up?"

She shakes her head at me. "I don't live with him anymore."

I drag in a deep breath. The relief I feel overcoming my panic immediately. She doesn't live with him anymore. He's not her guardian anymore. Maybe he won't come. But what about…

"Will he come to see you in any plays or anything?" I ask.

"No." she answers shortly, and even though she's eyeing me suspiciously, I don't even try to hide my relief at her confident answer. "Why do you care if he comes up here?"

I shrug my shoulders. I'm really good at pretending I'm feeling something other than what I'm feeling. "He's my mom and my sister's doctor now. Nobody knows about them being in the hospital and I want to keep it that way." I reply honestly, it's just not the whole truth. There's another reason why I don't want Doctor Brown to have a reason to visit me at school.

"So, you want me to keep my mouth shut?" Kayla asks.

I nod my head.

"It's gonna cost ya." She says seriously.

"What?"

"I don't know, but when I think of it I'll let you know." She holds her pinky out to me.

I have no choice but to take it.