Free Cold As Ice by L. Divine Page B

I see now why Mama was so distraught her daughter lost it: we’re all healers in some way, and by giving up on her path, my mom also gave up a piece of our collective lineage. Maybe there’s a way we can salvage my mom’s sight through my own visions, but that’ll have to wait for another day. Right now it’s all about saving my own ass, and passing the AP exams is top on my list.
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    After not having dinner last night, I met up with the study group, but it was almost over by the time I arrived. I guess even with the APs around in six weeks, the South Bay High crew still doesn’t miss an episode of Beverly Hills, 90210. My mom says it was the same way when the show was on back in her high school days. And for these rich folks up here, it must be like looking in the mirror. Alia even said the original show was filmed at another high school in the South Bay area. It must be nice to live the life so many envy. The group is meeting again after school, and I’m glad for it, even if I’m not pleased with the location.
    Charlotte, who undoubtedly volunteered her house so she can show off her daddy’s fortune, is hosting tonight’s study session. I can’t stand her ass, but if I’m going to pass these tests with flying colors, I’ve got to suck it up and deal.
    â€œShit,” I say, looking down as my travel speakers for my iPod fall between the car seats. The next time I have some extra cash, I’m buying a radio for this ride. I’ve gotten pretty good at mastering my mom’s stick shift, but these steep hills in Redondo Beach are a killer. I make my way up the winding road and look at the addresses for Charlotte’s house. All the lawns are perfectly manicured, with various alarm signs posted near the picturesque flower beds present in each one.
    When I arrive at the correct residence, I find a spot that’s almost level, so I don’t have too much trouble parallel parking, even though it’s several houses away from my destination. I’m not ashamed of my mom’s car, but parking it in the same driveway as the BMWs, Mercedes, and Audis the other students on my AP track drive doesn’t make me feel my best.
    I finally reach Charlotte’s house and ring the doorbell. Her next-door neighbors eye me carefully before they step out of their black Range Rover, probably wondering what I’m doing here, which is none of their damn business. I ring the bell again, and this time a woman in a black-and-white maid’s uniform answers the door. I didn’t know people actually wore the blouse-and-skirt combination with the headgear and apron to match, aside from on Halloween.
    â€œMay I help you?” the Latina sister asks, also surprised by my presence.
    â€œI’m here for the study group,” I say. She looks me up and down, sizing up my Old Navy jeans and Baby Phat long-sleeved shirt, focusing on the large gold bamboo hoops hanging from my ears. When she sees my Lucky bag, her stern face softens a bit, now satisfied that I’m not an imposter, I suppose.
    â€œThey’re in the great room,” she says, gesturing straight ahead of us to what looks like a living room. Great or not, I’m sure it’s the same thing.
    â€œDid anyone bring any coffee? Our maid forgot to drop by Starbucks this morning, and my daddy’s gourmet brand is off-limits. Good help is so hard to find these days,” Charlotte says, loud enough for their employee to hear, who is still behind me, making sure I don’t swipe any of the expensive decorative art on the round table in the foyer. I step down a single step into the most spacious room I’ve ever seen in person. Now I see why they call it great. Her living room sits off a cliff overlooking the ocean. The glass doors and windows lining the wall allow me to fully absorb the breathtaking view. I don’t even want to know what the rest of the house looks like, for fear I might