SHORT STORY NARRATIVE - Wednesday,May18th Latina like your...

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Micaela Martinez Saavedra Narrative Storytelling Wednesday, May 18th Latina like your mother ‘’I need it I need I need it I need it!’’ ‘You know your birthday is not until next month.’’ ‘’Ok, but, listen, mamá, this is my last chance to impress Sidney and the other girls, I even lied about this shirt from goodwill and I’ve been getting good grades and on Christmas you said we wouldn’t get anything so that my birthday was even more special! Please please please please.’’ One could say I’m exaggerating, but it’s different because it’s America. I remember walking with Carla, when she was only seven, past one of the wealthy neighborhoods. It was this constant fear that wouldn’t stop nagging my brain. As if a police car was going to pull over next to me any moment and scream out the window ‘’YOU DON’T BELONG !’’. I wanted for Carla to look up to me, like I looked up to my mom, instead of wishing my hair was like Elsa’s from ‘’Frozen’’ and that I’d bleach it or something. ‘’We’re latinas’’ I tell her ‘’If we try and have Elsa hair it’s gonna end up looking like that broom, mami.’’ A goddamned iPhone. How the fuck do I do this? Two thirty pm, I clocked out and I still smelled like a walking deep fryer. As if the day couldn’t get any gloomier, it rained on me, just like in the movies-step outside, bam! Cloud over my head. ‘’How much?’’ ‘‘Hundred and twenty five, sis’’ he said, looking high as fuck on god knows what. I had arrived at Dolores Park with a bag of my non-Elsa hair, and a little behind on rent. ‘’Not your sis, we agreed one fifty.’’ He stretched out his hand, one hundred and twenty five dollars and a dime, a goddamned dime. 1
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Micaela Martinez Saavedra Narrative Storytelling Wednesday, May 18th ‘’You can keep your coin, pendejo’’ I grabbed the money, dropped the bag. If looks could kill, I probably only revived him with that pathetic smile I gave him, sobered him up, even, and he probably made two million dollars selling each strand to a weird fetishist online. Walked all the way back to our apartment, needed some time to think how I was going to get the oh so precious gadget, when I couldn’t even pay for the bus. The sole sight of my little angel, doing her homework on the floor amongst all these pillows, gave me hope in an inexplicable kind of way. But, oh, there she went. ‘’ Mom, what the hell?! You look like a wet rat’’ ‘’Sorry, mami, the bus was late and I had to walk.’’ ‘’Ok but, like, couldn’t you get an umbrella from a co-worker or something?’’ ‘’Corn? Worker? Speak slower. I’m fine, did you have some pop tarts? I left rice and chicken on the---ACHOO!’’ ‘’Sit down mom, here; I’ll make you some ginger tea, which novela were you watching again?
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