Page 66 of Beneath Her Skin

No, but it sounds like you do.

I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “Are you jealous, sister?”

Her response is a middle finger and sticking out her tongue. I want to bite it.

Before I can make the life-altering decision to cross that barrier of a foster sister to… something more, I must suppress those feelings of desire for her once again when I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs.

I snap the book shut and quickly hide it. Maria hates my obsession with the occult. She thinks I’m bringing evil spirits into her house.But the only bad entity in this house is you, bitch.

Our bedroom door flies open, slamming into the wall from how hard she pushed it.

Our foster monster, Maria, stands in the doorway with a lit cigarette in her hand and the stench of beer oozing from her pores. The system picks out real winners for fosters.

“Just as I thought, doing nothing like always—all you are is a waste of space, girls.”

I ball my fists at my sides, trying to contain the rage that threatens to boil over.

She takes another drag of her cigarette, ashing it onto our floor before continuing. “You’re both big girls now—eighteen years old and fresh high school graduates. The state ain’t paying me anymore for you brats, so I want you both gone. As soon as possible. I need to clean up this room for new snot-rags.”

I fly off the bed in a flash. I’m going to knock this bitch’s teeth in. But before I can get any closer to her, I feel Willow drag me back by my arm. She gently taps her finger against my arm, trying to reign me in.

I face her, seeing the fear and worry etched into her features. I let out a deep sigh, and she reaches down to interlock her fingers with mine.

Breathe in. Breathe out.Don’t fly off the handle, Riley. You’re eighteen now, you can get thrown in jail.

I can never let that happen because if I get locked up, Willow will be alone. I won’t allow it.

“You have one week to get your shit straight. No more, no less,” Maria slurs.

I snap my head at her. “We have no money. No car. Literally nothing. Give us some more time to figure something out, and I promise we will be out of here faster than you can grow that beer belly larger.”

Maria shrieks in fury, stepping closer with her finger pointed at me. “That mouth on you is nothing but trouble, girl. I cannot wait for the day I find out you’ve been left for dead on the side of the road like the trash you are.”

My muscles tense, and I try to lunge for her again, but Willow wraps her arms around me in a bear hug. She trails her finger up and down my jaw, and I lean into her touch for comfort.

“One week, then you freaks can get the fuck out.”

Willow holds me tighter, the door slamming in my face as Maria stumbles away.

My heart feels like it’s sinking, weighed down like an anchor full of dread. Where the hell are we gonna go?

2

RADIOACTIVE ROSE

WILLOW

Istare at the gloomy sky, the sun veiled by sluggish rain clouds, threatening to unleash Mother Nature’s tears onto the earth below. Pencil in hand, I attempt to capture the melancholy scene in my sketchpad—the same weight of uncertainty that hangs over Riley and me.

Our future has never felt so unclear. Sure, bouncing from one foster home to the next has always been chaotic, but now that the system has chewed us up and spat us out like stray dogs, we’re truly lost. We’ve never found a place that feels like home.

But in my heart, I know—wherever Riley is, that’s home.

Out on the pavement, Riley’s on her skateboard, blowing off steam the only way she knows how. It’s her go-to whenever her anger threatens to explode. I watch her, entranced by the way she moves—so effortless, like the world bends to her rhythm. Her worn combat boots, thrifted over a year ago, push against the cement with each kick. Her baggy black cargo pants and oversized tee billow in the wind. We couldn’t be more different in style, and yet, I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.

Everything about Riley is bold, loud, and unapologetically rebellious. A vivid streak of neon green slashes across her sidebangs, framing her intense eyes—a striking electric contrast to her onyx waves, like a visual echo of the storm she carries in her soul. Nothing about her is ordinary. Every inch of her screams defiance at the world, a walking middle finger to society’s concept of “normal.”

She is everything I’m not. They say opposites attract, and we are the living embodiment of that. She calls me her strawberry sunshine, and to me, she’s my radioactive rose.

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