Page 21 of Little Sunshine

After taking the bus as close as it went, I’d had to walk the rest of the way through a lot of cute.

Cute houses with cute little gardens where cute kids played with cute toys.

The longer I hiked, the bigger those cute houses became until I stood outside the address the barfly had shown me.

It wasn’t a mansion, but it wasn’t far off. It was way nicer than any place I’d expect to find my mother.

Standing on the sidewalk, I was about to approach the door when a racing car squealed into the driveway. Veronica launched herself out from behind the wheel so suddenly, I thought the car would continue rolling until it crashed into the garage.

She snagged herself a man with a nice house and a garage. Not to mention that expensive car since there’s no way that’s hers.

Why the hell did she have to steal my shit?

“What’re you doing here?” she hissed at me, her worried eyes darting behind me to the front door.

“Give me my fucking paycheck.”

Her voice was low. Wounded. As fake as the rest of her. “Camila, is that any way to talk to your own mama?”

Oh barf.

“I have no mama,” I hissed back. “No mom. No mother. I have a thief I share some DNA with.”

Not that I’m much better up here on my pickpocketing high horse.

“I can explain.” Another nervous dart of her eyes. “Later.”

History might repeat itself, but she’s really got it on a loop.

Most of my childhood memories involved being left alone or with my grandparents. But I’d seen enough pictures of us when I was a baby to know Veronica hadn’t minded me back then. I’d been a cute accessory she could use for attention. That’d changed when I’d gotten older. She hadn’t wanted people to know she was old enough to have a kid. By the time I was five, she’d taught me to call her by her first name.

In her head, we were Roni and Mila, basically sisters.

That’d changed again when I became a teenager. Then I was her secret. Her enemy.

Her competition.

Her shifty behavior made it clear nothing had changed. Her new man had no clue she had a daughter.

I was exhausted. Stressed. Sick to my stomach.

It’s finally happened. I’m out of patience.

I’m done.

Steeling my spine, I did something I rarely had the desire or energy to do.

I stuck up for myself.

“I’m not leaving without my money.”

My mother’s eyes narrowed to slits, and I could practically see the vicious insults she had forming on her tongue.

It was our typical routine ever since I was old enough to know she was trash.

That we were trash.

Any time I questioned her grand stories, she would lash out and cut me down until she felt superior again.

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