"If you ever try that shit again, I'll murder you and hide your body parts in a Ziploc bag."
Sapphire Sanders is almost 18 years old, and she's about to graduate high school. She only lives with her siblings, since her parents are basically non exis...
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My retinas were already on fire.
I had been staring at the glowing signboard at the front of the restaurant for about five minutes now, and I couldn't take my eyes away for some reason.
"What even is that language?"I ask, squinting my burning eyes, tilting my head.
The letters on the signboard were starting to move around. I think I had stared for a little too long.
"It says Neon. Let's go inside."Em says, still sounding irritated.
The inside was almost as worse as the outside. The leather on the seats were a shade of purple I couldn't even describe, like fresh purple grapes and purple wine combined.
The walls were a lighter shade of purple, but it was still the same amount of blinding.
What was the obsession with the owner and purple?
Did we need to call the police?
The restaurant was a futuristic, modern type of place, but it was in the middle of a busy Brooklyn street, with almost five different restaurants on the same street.
What I'm trying to say is no one was there.
There were only two waiters, and probably some guy in the kitchen.
That was it.
Me and my brother sat at a table for three, while Em ordered our food.
This would count as dinner for us.
I texted Charlotte at the table. She was still annoyed with her test score, even though I would have killed for that type of score.
See, I'm not an academic sort of person. I may get a few B's here and there, but trust me, you can not count on me in an exam.
She came 2nd, I came 9th. I didn't really see what the big deal was.
Though she's used to getting high scores, so I kind of get it.
I texted her she should calm down, and that there were still other exams left to top.
She sent a rather offensive text to me, but I was rather rudely interrupted by my own personal she demon, when Em sat down at our table and forced me to have a good, long talk about boys.
I hated that.
I hated everything about that.
We had been arguing for almost ten minutes, till the waiter had finally arrived with our food.
I was facing my sister, so I couldn't see him, but I noticed her pupils dilate. I wanted to barf out the non-exisstent food in my stomach.
"Here's your order." He said, his voice arguably a little too deep for a college guy, which I assumed he was.
