Chapter 8

She swiveled her chair to face the mirror on the other side of the room—she was the epitome of a mess with her frizzy curly hair, dark circles and eyes red like she had just smoked weed.

Puffing out, she stood and stretched, her bones cracking in a way that could pass for the beat of a Grammy-winning rap album. Her shoulders slouched almost immediately. She stretched and she trudged over to the bathroom, knowing that if she wanted to make it in time to follow her dad or ...