"Social justice bores me," Charlie whined, theatrically falling against her locker. 

"It's only boring because you only ever see people to use it to get out of gym class." Teresa ignored her friend, inspecting her fresh manicure instead.

"Skylar, is it boring?" Charlie whipped her head to her hopefully. A thin sheen of pink lip gloss had been painted on her smile.

"Are you wearing lip gloss?" she asked, rather than answer the question. Charlie blushed, pale cheeks shifting to a deep pink.

"Chapstick," she corrected, hiding her mouth behind her hand and fumbling with her lock.

Teresa grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her. "That's lip gloss," she confirmed. "Girl, you've got glitter on your eyes. Are you trying to get out of a bad grade in math?"

Charlie, Skylar had discovered, had a lot of emotions. Each one was perfectly valid, and yet Charlie made every little feeling she had seem like the end of the world or a cure for cancer. It was hard to tell when she was actually upset, or just dramatically upset. "Okay, fine," she moped. She looked around before bringing them in for a huddle and whispering, "I haven't had sex in like five months. The last person I slept with was Tad, but now he's dating Mariah and everyone knows that Mariah gives good head--"

"Do we know that?" Skylar tilted her head.

"Of course we do," Teresa agreed, patting her friend on the back.

"--and all my exes think I'm crazy, so I thought well maybe I am crazy so--"

"You aren't crazy, Charlie," Skylar assured her. "A bit much, but definitely not crazy."

Teresa adjusted the strap of her backpack and nodded her agreement. "Yeah, girl, you aren't even close to crazy." She arched a pink brow and jutted a thumb behind her. "Dana Curry," she screwed up her face at the name, "she's batshit crazy. Don't let some assclown like Tad make you doubt yourself."

Charlie gasped, putting a hand to her chest in mock surprise. "I am not doubting myself, Mother Teresa," she breathed. "I've made a decision for all of us," she gestured for them to return to the huddle, "we're swearing off immature high school boys. Skylar," Skylar's eyes met hers, "you gave me an idea."

"I did?" she checked warily.

"Yes," she snapped. "You got an older guy to like you--"

"I don't think Bear likes me like that," she countered.

"Bear! He lets you call him Bear?" She turned to face Teresa and swooned, "That is almost too cute," she gushed.

"Doesn't everyone call him that?"

"No! No one calls him anything because he never speaks to anyone that doesn't work for him. He's like this mysterious, hot, rich--"

Teresa clapped a hand over her mouth. "Get to the point Char," she urged.

"Anyways," Charlie rolled her eyes, "the point is that we are eighteen! We're totally legal, and fair game for any tall, dark, handsome stranger to hit on. We're going to hang out at the mall after school."

"I don't think that rich, mysterious strangers hang out at the mall at four o'clock on a Thursday," Skylar broke the news with a grin.  Her phone buzzed.

Come with me.

"Oh my God!" Skylar shoved the phone in her back pocket at Teresa's outburst. "Did you guys hear about Tongue Tip this weekend?"

"What's Tongue Tip?" Skylar asked, letting her eyes search the windows. Science was all that was left before she could enjoy the decent day outside.

"It's this place up an old logging road where everyone goes to party and bang one out. No one ever goes up there unless they're looking to get laid or make out." Charlie sighed, "Tad used to take me up there."

"What a romantic," Teresa said dryly. "Anyways, someone got murdered up there over the weekend. They haven't came out with who it was yet, but it was all over the news. Some girl got totally mutilated."

"Jesus," breathed Skylar.

"I hope it was that two faced bitch, Shannon. Tampon stealing little twat," Charlie bit her knuckles, growling.

"Not cool," Teresa lectured.

Her pocket vibrated and she pulled her phone out again. Other way. The text confused her. She had been searching the windows, looking out at the parking lot. Everyone that had a rich parent was driving a new Jeep it seemed. There were other cars scattered here and there, but there was an overwhelming amount of Jeeps at the high school. The stereotypical spoiled rich girl had likely asked for it for their birthday, or at least that's how Teresa described acquiring hers. She tore her eyes from it and turned to the side. 

There, leaning against the railing just beyond the main entrance, was the source of her texts. "I have to go," she blurted out to her friends. They craned their necks to see what she was staring at. "My mom is here to pick me up."

"I don't think I've ever seen your mom before." Teresa stepped into the hall for a better look.

"She's way prettier than any of us will ever be," Charlie judged.

It was far off reality. Her mom had showed up in pair of too-tall heels and a blush pant suit. She didn't even have on her hospital name tag--the nurse persona had vanished. She waved her fingers, beckoning Skylar towards her. "So we're not trolling at the mall?"

Skylar swiveled around as she walked away to shrug, "I guess not. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Her mom's smile was wide and genuine when she walked through the big double doors. "Hey!" she greeted happily.

"What are you doing here? School isn't over for almost an hour," she muttered as she was pulled into a hug. 

"I thought you could use an early off and trade in science--" Skylar's brows raised at the fact that she knew anything about her schedule, "--for manicures and dinner out."

"Manicures?" She examined her fingernails with disdain. She usually just painted them herself with whatever she could afford. Now they were a shade of purple that was chipping.

"Yeah, I thought it would be nice. You coming?" she queried with a knowing smirk. Her heels clicked all the way to the car as Skylar jogged after her in her leather Converse.

-------

"I love yours more," her mom commented on her acrylics. She had chosen to go with glossy red, while Skylar opted for a full set of almond shaped acrylics complete with a raspberry and peach ombre speckled here and there with rhinestones.

"Teresa has her nails long so I thought I'd give it a try," she said.

Her mother leaned over the table to sip her drink. "So you like it here?"

"Yeah," Skylar said quickly.

"Good." The waiter came over to set down two plates of steaming food and refill her mom's wine glass. "Because since your father is getting a raise, I've decided it's time that I do something that I want to do." Skylar's eyes travelled to her mother's wardrobe. The pant suit, the heels, and she was fairly certain that her hair had been curled and styled more neatly than usual.

"Are you not working at the hospital anymore?"

"I still am," she assured her, "but I applied for the position of medical nutritionist and I just did my interview this afternoon." She barely managed not to screech as she said, "I think I got the job!"

"Mom, that's awesome! When will you know for sure?" 

"Tomorrow morning. So I thought we'd celebrate. I've heard this place is the best around," she mumbled with a mouthful. "Damn, that's good." Skylar beamed at her, digging into her own pasta eagerly. It was the first time she had been inside of Two Olives, but she could see why Tom referred to Bear as slumming it at Romulus.

Every table was candlelit, with a large crystal chandelier at least ten feet wide hanging in the center of the two story restaurant. The walls were covered in gold and white wallpaper, and every chair was real white leather. There was no denying that the bill would be expensive, but she didn't let that spoil their mood. 

By the time dessert was finished, they were both stuffed full. "I was thinking," her mom said, wiping her mouth with a napkin, "you're eighteen now. We should be planning for your future. I know, I know," she raised a hand when Skylar's mouth flung open, "your father and I have done a bang up job of preparing you for the real world."

Skylar gave her an incredulous look. "Are you saying you want me to move out and start paying my own bills?" It was meant to be a joke. A jest. 

But her mother said seriously, "Not move out, but paying the bills is a good start. For example, your phone is fifty bucks a month, due on the twelfth. Start there. Mainly, I just want you to get a part time job while you're still in school so that when--if--you go to college, you'll have someway to support yourself. I mean, do you even want to go to college?" She shouldn't have felt so angry at the question, but she did. For years she had talked about her hopes and dreams--about how college was an essential part of that dream, and yet here they were discussing if she had any goals. It was like her mother hadn't been listening.

"I want to be an archaeologist." Her words were clipped, flat.

"Oh duh!" Her mother put a hand to her forehead. "I knew that, really I did. Just having a brain fart is all." Her anger subsided. "All the more reason to get a job so you can have some references. You won't get your archaeology degree by working at a fast food restaurant. You need something that shows your work ethic is something to be reckoned with."

"Did you have something in mind?"

Her mother tangled her fork around her noodles. "Well, not really, but I just want you to think about it. Maybe get a nice little weekend job, or even a summer one set up. That way you have some money when the time comes. Your dad and I--" she broke off in a deep exhale, "--we'll do the best we can to support you, but we aren't made of money. We can't afford to give you a full ride like these other parents around here. You deserve it though. I want you to know that, Sky."

She reached across the table and grasped Skylar's hand. "I know, Mom," she said quietly. "And I think you're right. I should look for something."

The smile returned to her mother's face, but disappeared once more when her eyes locked on something behind her. "Shit," she hissed.

"What?" Skylar made to turn around but her mother held her hand tighter.

"Don't look, don't look!" she whispered. "Hi!" she greeted in her fake voice. It was the voice she used when talking on the phone with teachers, or telling her father that he looked fine when he didn't.

"Mrs. Carrow, how are you?" Skylar's jaw dropped. Bear stood at their table, pale hands shoved into the pockets of his black pants. His hair was combed and gelled, and his slender torso was clad in a red blazer with a white undershirt. Red, black, and white--Roman Ridge High colors.

"Wonderful, I'm just treating my daughter to a nice dinner." Bear glanced over at Skylar, the corners of his full lips tugged up, but he suppressed the smile expertly. "Skylar, this is Berach Cruor, your dad's boss." She jolted when her mom kicked her beneath the table.

"Nice to meet you," she stammered, discretely rubbing her calf.

Bear let his smile show as he held out a hand to her, "Pleasure's all mine," he purred.

Skylar swallowed. "Handshakes, old school."

His green eyes lit up and he let his thumb graze her fingertips as he pulled away slowly. "My father always said the best way to know someone is to see how they shake your hand."

"My dad said that too," her mother chimed. Skylar blinked, remembering the parental presence.

"Wise men think alike," Bear chortled. 

"So what brings you here?" her mother asked.

"My sister, actually. She's performing tonight, and I like to do my part to come out and watch all her performances." Skylar's brows arched.

"Is she a singer?" she queried.

Bear scratched the back of his blond head and nodded. "Yeah, she sings. You two should stay and watch a set."

Her mom gave her an inquisitive look before deciding for them. "Sounds great." She clapped her hands decisively.