Page 3 of Transition

However, my mom, ever the fashionista, thought otherwise. “It’s your first day, darling, and I left you that cute little dress and those elegant heels I got you. It’s a good thing those Vans of yours got ruined. They were beginning to drive me crazy, and at least now you get to wear your designer boots. I bought those for you forever ago.”

I simply gaped at her. “Mom did you…?”

An eye roll followed my unfinished question. “Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything to your precious Vans. It was probably a rat, and I said I will call the exterminators, Bueno?”

“Okay,” I said, eyeing her suspiciously before I was satisfied that she hadn’t taken her frustration out on my shoes.

“Did you sleep well?” It was our first night in our new house, and I wanted to know how she was doing.

A broad smile graced her lips. “Oh, honey, I slept wonderfully. I get to start my new job today, too, so I couldn’t be more excited.”

I sighed. “Mom…” I just couldn’t believe she could be that happy, considering the circumstances.

She walked into the room and placed both manicured hands on my cheeks, her bronze skin a slight contrast from my cream-colored complexion. “I’m fine, mí hija. You don’t have to worry. Like I said before, our life here is going to be simply amazing.” She kissed my forehead and pulled me into a hug.

“I love you, Mom,” I mumbled from being squished in her arms.

“Té amo, bebé,” she whispered, before stepping back and brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You’re so beautiful, Katrina, and your eyes, my God, they shine so brightly, just like your father’s. You are all your father, my sweet girl.”

I beamed at the comparison, but deep down, I knew there were some similarities between my mother and me; they just weren’t as vivid.

Standing at 5’4”, I got my height from her, unlike my father, who had practically been a giant at 6’5”. Another feature I got from my mother was my figure.

Though not as fully developed as her mouth-watering curves, mine were still a little too daring for a 17-year-old, although they sat well with my frame. The rest of me was from my dad, except he had pale skin, while my creamy skin was a mixture of both parents.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She nodded, her smile still in place. “Come on, you have to eat breakfast before I drop you off.”

I groaned; I should have known. If there was anything my mom loved, it was cooking for people. So, instead of arguing - which I knew would get me nowhere - I trailed after her obediently and sat at the table to eat the perfect English breakfast she had whipped up.

“When do I get a car, Mom? I wouldn’t want you to get to your new job late because you have to drop me off every morning.”

I was watching her closely, so I saw the shadow that fell briefly on my mom’s face. “I’m perfectly fine with dropping you off at school every morning, Katrina. I think you’re going to be fine without a car for now,” she said, putting her smile firmly back in place.

“But Mom, we talked about this,” I protested. “You promised to get me one when I began my senior year.”

“I changed my mind, okay? You don’t need a car.” Her sharp tone cut through the air around us, causing my spine to go rigid.

I nodded, and the rest of our breakfast time was silent.

Twenty minutes later, my mom’s BMW rolled into the Redwood High School parking lot. As I reached to open the door, I felt her hand rest on my arm.

I turned to look at her. “Yes, Mom?”

Her face took on a remorseful look. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier, Katrina. It’s just… I don’t know this town that well yet, and I need to be sure it is safe enough for you to drive around in before we get you a car.”

I placed my hand over hers, understanding the real reason she had snapped. After all, my father’s car had ended up off the road and at the bottom of a lake.

“It’s okay, Mom. I understand,” I reassured her with a smile and a quick kiss on her cheek before opening the door and stepping out.

“Katrina!”

I turned back.

“Make friends, okay?”

I nodded, not so sure of myself, before striding towards the entrance.

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