My Dirty Life as a Good Girl

This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events are imaginary, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18.

Jessica

I’m tickled pink that I have only one more day until a week of freedom.

The school year is a drag, tons of homework, college applications, and too many flubbed attempts at working up the nerve to talk to Sam, but all attempts have failed.

Every time I try to tell Sam how I feel, the butterflies get worse, and the more I try to talk to him, the less courage I find—just to say something, let alone look at him.

Forget it. I have more to look forward to… in other words, spring break.

I could finish reading Lonesome Dove, or let my group know I’m progressing with Fight Club, or I could spend time with friends if they’re not busy.

Like today, where all of us hotwire the Thursday afternoon diner before rush hour—Lucy’s.

There are four of us, all seniors, wanting to move up and join the working world.

Lisa, my best friend, has red hair, green eyes, and is a serial head-turner. Next to her is Ben, a jock with the standard issue hot bod and personality. Roland, Lisa’s twin brother, has the same hair and eye color as his sister, but he lacks confidence and is shy in front of others.

Last but not least is yours truly, the shy girl with chin-length brown hair and round glasses that make my face look less attractive than my brown-haired peers, even though I’m more attractive. Or so I’ve been told.

“So anyway,” Ben continues as I come back to reality, “I don’t see the point of going to school Friday. You all have been in Mr. Rick’s and Ms. Pariban’s classes. They don’t have any plans for the end of the week. They’re going to put on a movie so our video-game-damaged brains don’t fry!” He snickers, “And not a good one! Why go? It’s a waste of time and I lose a day of freedom.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Fine. Going to see it through, huh? Don’t come to me for advice on passing the year with all those unexcused absences.”

Ben chokes on his Dr. Pepper. “H, hey! I wasn’t absent that many times.” Despite arguing, his eyes review his absences reel.

Lisa raises her brows and records his year in absences and unexcused absences. I tune out when Lisa needs two hands.

I want to cut class on the last day of the year like Ben, but Mrs. Roberts has a quiz planned in eighth period. I don’t want to take a hit to the GPA, which Ben can apparently “walk off.”

Besides, I get to see Sam one last time before spring break. Who knows, maybe I’ll find my ovaries and talk to him. Maybe even, gasp, get his number.

“You all right, Jessica?” Roland asks, rousing me from La-La-Land.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” I reply, bringing the world back into focus. “I’m just thinking of the possibilities after tomorrow’s over with.”

Roland nods, and for a split second, I imagine his eyes linger on me. Wishful thinking.

Weird, but in a nearby booth, an older woman keeps her fork halfway to her mouth, eyes glued to Roland on a half-eaten plate of eggs. Her hair is black and falls to just below her shoulders, her dark eyes smolder at Roland, and every once in a while her fingers make sure she’s still wearing her shooting star necklace above the hills of her boobs.

She smirks when Roland’s eyes flit her way.

When the woman pays her check and leaves, she greets the four of us and plays an unexpected role as troublemaker.

“Hello,” she says, surprising the hell out of us, “I saw you and thought you needed company,” she says, but it’s not to the group, it’s to Roland, when she lays a hand on his shoulder. Red nails start to inspect Roland’s chest.

My eyes settle on her, taking in all the clues. The dark makeup, bright red lipstick, and long jacket hiding her body speak to my true crime binges. With a tight top, a short animal print skirt, and mesh stockings, this woman is a prostitute.

“Mm, uh!” Roland mutters, eyes on the mystery woman and at a loss for words.

“Excuse me,” Lisa starts, “Aren’t you’re a little old for our friend?”

“Oh please,” the woman purrs, shooting Roland a what’s-for-dinner look as she gets closer, “He’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions, can’t you, handsome?”

Roland goes red and struggles. The hooker smirks, running her hand down Roland’s shoulder.

Before the she-devil can corrupt my bestie’s brother further, I swat her hand away, causing her to stumble.

“You can’t see he’s uncomfortable?” I scold; I’m surprised in my ability to cut down evil doers. “Go play homewrecker somewhere else.”

My unexpected move surprises her, not to mention brightens her complexion. The hand I knocked away massages the shooting star necklace. “Well, I’ll be! Names, Alison, bitch!”

I’m on my feet, too—propelled by some unseen force as the woman dares to objectify my boys. “We’re not talking to you, get lost.”

She narrows her eyes, black orbs sparkling. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me, do you girl?”

“I know you chose to be here.”

She grimaces, grabbing her necklace so hard her knuckles turn white. “You wouldn’t last a day in my world. I’d like to see how long you last, girl.”

Lisa and Ben are behind me as backup. It looks like the bitch is ready to strike. Not so fast! Diner support arrives in the form of snappily dressed waitress. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you need to go.”

The witch glares daggers at the waitress, but she looks to Roland, then Ben, Lisa, and me, like anyone is going to step in. She smirks and turns away.

“Thanks,” Roland says, ducking into his hoodie.

I grin at his flushed face.