Perfect is overrated, I think anyone who isn't delusional would understand this. So why is my new boss trying to teach me how to do my job perfectly? It's not only getting on my nerves, but it's super cringe. But hey, I guess the saying "fake it til you make it" will become my new best friend!

Placing an application at a nearby diner was my idea. I needed extra cash and some time to keep busy. After finally admitting to my past trauma and facing it head-on, I realized I had to do something for myself and be a little independent for once in my life. Doing this will give me more control over myself and a part of me hopes this would make my family proud.

Would my dad think I was more responsible now? Would my mom tell me how grown up I am? I don't know, and I'll never know. They're gone. But I know I'm happy about this accomplishment, and I think some time out of the house is just what I need to clear my head. I've also started journaling my feelings and emotions, more specifically to cope with the passing of my family in a private but therapeutic way. That's at least something decent I got out of my three sessions in therapy before I threw a hissy fit and refused to go back, of course.

The job isn't too hard and it's fairly decent when it comes to the pay and tips. Plus, the hours are flexible. I really couldn't ask for anything more. During the first few weeks, I shadowed someone and learned the ropes, but I've been on my own for two weeks now, and it isn't half bad! Taking orders and putting food on the table is super simple. Many of the customers are regulars, so it's always good to be greeted with a smiling face.

The lunch rush just cooled down when I started wiping a dried ketchup stain from table five. That's when the door chimes. I sneak a glance at our new customer and my jaw drops to the floor.

Oh good Lord, you must be joking. Of all places, why here?

Her heels obnoxiously click louder and louder, a steady drum echoing closer. She maneuvers around wooden chairs that occupy her space like worthless peasants. Her sunglasses are tinted pink, hiding her chilling Medusa eyes. Everything about her screams "look at me, I'm rich and want attention!" But she won't get to me, I know her little games. The Ice Queen will not freeze me this time.

I center all my attention back on cleaning the table. My brows crease together in forced concentration. I keep my head down and think of anything but her. Suddenly, a silhouette crosses my peripheral vision, which is then followed by an exaggerated gasp.

And so the game begins. "Oh. My. Gosh! Prim? I didn't know you worked here. I didn't even know you had a job at all. What a small world," Priscilla's glossy lips pucker and my teeth grind together.

Be nice, you're at work. "Yes, I do. I just got the job. I wanted to keep busy. Are you here to eat?" I hope to God no!

"Hmm, I'm not sure, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by," her glance wavers to get a better picture of the place. With her sunglasses now resting on her head, her eyes roam the space. The way they scrunch up and her eyebrows crease, I can tell she's not impressed.

She was not just in the neighborhood. Something's up, I can sense it! "You know we have some great burgers. And grilled cheese. Also, our fries are to die for," I wipe down the table, grinning widely. I'm being polite, of course.

"Well it just so happens I don't eat gluten anymore or carbs. New diet." She twirls her strawberry blonde hair around her manicured fingers. My grin widens. Of course, she'd say something stupid like that. This means she has no means to be here and will make her way to the exit!

"Oh darn, what a shame," sarcasm slides off my tongue, but with her attention centered on her perfect nails, there's no evidence to prove she's caught on. I scurry to table three, where a large party left an equally large mess. My eyes roll impatiently. Pricilla comes up from behind me, persistent to continue our chat.

"I think this place is your style. So glad you found a job to control your anger issues." I stop wiping the table and straighten up. Her heels click slowly until I'm yet again facing Priscilla. Her icy glare and cold grin taunt me, but I will not budge. Seriously, no one's teeth should be that white!

I force a smile and adjust my apron, then swiftly move to another table that's already set for incoming customers just to distance myself from her.

"You know, it's funny. I've been meaning to talk to you," she slithers her way closer to me. I mentally scream while reorganizing the table. I straighten up the silverware, napkins, and menus. I take it up a notch by wiping down chairs and cleaning crumbs from off the booths. Anything to keep my eye contact away from hers.

Ignore her. All you have to do is ignore her.

"Paxson is such a sweet man, but I want you to be careful. He has a secret dark side. He'll use and abuse you. You really should stay away," Priscilla's face is too close for comfort. I continue to pretend she doesn't exist. She is an annoying fly, a mosquito trying to suck my blood. I won't let her. Not at work, not out in public. Not ever again.

She huffs and leans on the table, examining her french nails again. A horrible habit that's honestly starting to bug me. I have this prickling urge to rip her nails off! "Oh, but I forget. You probably haven't even done that with him yet," My hands start to shake, and I feel her gaze burning me. Heat radiates all around. She's trying to instigate me!

I will not break...

"I can't lie, he's pretty amazing in bed. God, you're missing out. Paxson is such a tease. Didn't know he had that side to him, but hey, that's what happens when you're all riled up."

My hand clasps the pitcher of water across from me and I clench it with all my might. Condensation tickles my fingers and I stare as it traces my skin. This is a test, I know it.

"What I like about him is he takes his time. He's in no rush. I never felt that good with anyone else I've been with." I hold in a gag. That's a mental picture I'll never erase from my head.

"His kiss is so warm and inviting, and his hands roam everywhere. He's attractive all around. Don't even get me started on how big-"

Screw this! There are other jobs, I'll find one!

My hand swings the pitcher forward, and in a flash, water is dumped all over Pricilla. Not sure what makes me smirk the most, her high-pitched squeal or the way her makeup drips off her face like candle wax. Her face and shirt are soaked to the bone. Honestly, she's lucky it's water and not soda.

Seeing her like this reminds me of the witch from The Wizard of Oz. Except I don't have the pleasure of witnessing the Ice Queen melt, which is a shame. This scene, however, calls attention to both of us, and some customers enjoying their food stare worriedly.

"Oh wow miss, I'm so sorry. Please, let me help you," I bite back my hysterical laughter and reach into my apron to retrieve a towel. She immediately swats my gesture away. At this point, her bright pink bra pokes out of her sheer button-down shirt, her mascara creases her caked cheeks, and parts of her flawless hair are flat and stick to her exposed skin.

"You're a fucking freak!  You're the worst person on this damn planet, and I despise you. I hope you rot in hell!" As she storms her way toward the door, I don't forget to finish the job I've done with a smirk on my face. Right before she slams the door shut, she yells more explicit words at me. My smirk intensifies.

"So glad you stopped by, have a great day, miss," I wave enthusiastically. The bell chimes as she exits. Yep, I'm definitely fired after this, but I can't say it wasn't worth it.

***

The door behind me slams shut. My ponytail is falling loose and the sweat sticks to my red face. I could've called Paxson or Whitney to pick me up, but I needed the fresh air and time to think. Plus, I really wasn't in a rush to let everyone know I was fired.

Right after Priscilla stomped away, my manager, Dylan, gave me a glare from over the counter. Most of our chat was a blur, but when he sternly requested that after my shift I hang up my apron and head home, I knew he meant not to come back. Still, Priscilla's dripping face and wailing screech replay in my mind, and I can't help but smile.

So lost in my thoughts, I'm unaware of faint voices from the kitchen until I'm too late. My sneakers creek to a stop and all eyes flicker at me.

Horror strikes my face as every last piece of dignity I have is stripped away. Paxson leans over the sink with wide eyes and arms crossed. He seems miles away with a blank expression that worries me. There at the table sits Whitney extending a hand to Priscilla who sits across from her. She's dressed in different clothes now, and her face is rid of any damage from earlier today but tears stream down her face. Now all that remains is a crybaby with evil intentions.

Whitney's brows crease and her mouth gaps open slightly. Paxson only stares at me like he's seen a ghost.  Priscilla's tears continue to streak her face and she wipes them away quickly. I can see past her fakery, why can't everyone else?

The sense is back, a sense of trouble that lingers in the air. Deep down her orbs of white ice are laughing at me. Seeing her twice in one day is a total nightmare, but having her claim revenge on the same day is torture.

Blood drains from my face, and all I can manage to muster is an expanding sigh. "Prim, you're early," Whitney licks her lips and rises from her seat.

"What's going on here?" The shakiness in my voice is foreign to me.

"Well since you're here, I guess we should tell you what all this is about," Whitney's hands clasp together. I catch Paxson flinching slightly, but I'm not sure if it's my imagination playing tricks on me.

I shift my weight, resting myself against the wall. Suddenly I feel like an outsider. As if I'm the intruder preying on their beautiful family. The embarrassment and awkwardness devour me.

There's another fermata before Whitney clears her throat. "Pax, do you want to tell her?"

My pleading eyes look up at him. I search his face for some understanding and comfort but I'm left staring at a brick wall. He takes a good look at me, opens his mouth to say something, then closes his eyes. His hands fiercely rub his face.

Whitney stammers, trying to muster some sort of answer but it's Priscilla who stands and shares the news.

"I'm pregnant. Paxson's the father," she says clearly. Nice and simple, straight to the point. A quick and easy slit of my throat. She's a murderer. A cold-blooded killer and manipulator. She spit venom in my drink; brought a knife to a fistfight; played dirty; cheated, and went out of bounce. Of course, she won. She didn't win Paxson, he's not a prize, but she did win at ridding me of his life for good. There's no way to make it work now. It's over.

I walk right out of the kitchen without another sound and I hear Whitney's footsteps behind me. Words follow, but it's all muffled. She's water in my ear. I grip the edge of the sofa, my fingers curling into the leather fabric. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray. This cannot be happening. This must be a dream. Why does this hurt so much?

At some point, something Whitney said triggered Priscilla, because her high-pitched groan is exaggerated and annoying. "Dear God, don't apologize to her. Come on, Prim! When are you going to stop acting like a child and grow up? It was never going to work between you two, I mean get a grip. Didn't your parents teach you to have thick skin?"

I swing around and see her hand resting calmly on her belly. This has got to be a joke.

"And what if you're lying? How do we know you're pregnant?" My accusation makes her burst into laughter. "Oh please, I have the test results. Doctor-approved with my name on them. I'm not a stupid, little girl."

"No, you're not stupid. You're just a psychotic, snobby, pain in-"

"Prim," Paxson looks at me dead in the eye. The pull of his eyebrows and the crease of his lids add years to his face. "Enough."

"I think all of you need to sit down and talk this out. Since Priscilla will be moving in with us-"

"Woah! Back up! She's moving in with us? What, not enough room in your mansion for a baby?"

"I don't have time to discuss this with a whining child! Don't you have somewhere else to be?" she ponders the thought for a second and bites her french-tip nail. A devilish smirk plays on her face. "Oh yeah, that's right, you're stranded here since your family blew up."

What. Did she just. Say. To me?

Whitney and Paxson are on edge. I could hear their blabber but what words they say I don't know. What I do know is that I'm sick to my stomach watching this bitch step all over me and everyone else. And for what? Because everyone knows Paxson and I have a connection? Because our being together is complicated right now, so let's just invite someone else to make him happy. No. I will not allow it any further.

I glare at Priscilla. My sympathy is gone. My restraint is gone. I don't have a care in the world, it's completely gone.  No, I don't feel like yelling. What I feel goes beyond screaming. This doesn't need words. She can step all over me, call me names, steal the guy I love away from me, but joke about my family's death... Now that's a line crossed.

I breathe in once and take a steady step toward her. "Don't worry, Priscilla. I'll be sure to pray my family sends you a postcard from heaven. You know, since you won't be going there yourself." I feel I'm about to explode.  Her dramatic jaw drop sends me further.

"What did you say to me you little-"

"As a matter of fact," my voice is barely a whisper now, "since you just love talking about the dead so much, why don't you join them? Here, I'll give you a head start."

She may be taller, but I know with the right aim, I can do this. I never lose eye contact when my right-hand raises. I swing.

Smack! A hard crack echoes in the room and my rage is unleashed. Now it becomes a temper tantrum, but I think it's well deserved!

All of a sudden, I'm on top of her, my hands whipping around as she lashes out. I don't know what I'm doing at this point, I'm just swinging my arms viciously. "Pregnant or not, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you until-"

I'm off her within seconds. Her exaggerated cries and pleas are hysterical to me. I laugh so hard tears stain my eyes. Arms crush me as I'm dragged upstairs to my room. But I yell. I yell about anything and everything I'm feeling. Not like it matters what I do anymore. But I disappear faster than I can drain out every mudslinging word in the dictionary. I don't even know who's holding me. From the grip of it, it could be Paxson, but I'm too enraged to care.

My bedroom door swings open and I land on the bed.  My face sinks into the sheets and my body curls up. "Prim," Paxson's delicate voice is now stone cold, "what the hell were you thinking?"

The door slams shut.

I laugh, then cry, then laugh, and cry all at the same time. I'm hurt from multiple wounds, my body leaks out every emotion possible. Her payback quadrupled my water stunt. She knew from the minute she walked into the diner that she was pregnant! She was already preparing her final act. Her ultimate party trick.

That nasty, sleazy, snobby rich girl is having a child with the love of my life. As dramatic as it sounds, it's true! They'd make a wonderful baby, that's for sure. Who am I kidding? To honestly think he'd stick around for me.

But to think after all she did I'm the one in the wrong. I'm the one who gets punished for it? Why? She's got just as much blame as I do, if not more! The way she manipulates and intoxicates people with her sway and smooth talk. But I'm the child, so I pay the price for both of us. That's just how it works.

I have no one to talk to, no one who will listen, but I know if she was here, my mom would be right at my side, holding me tight. And I wish now I had her with me. All those times I didn't let her in, didn't allow her to see what was boiling inside of me. I shouldn't have taken it all for granted, because now she isn't here and I'm all alone.

"Mom," I sniffle into the pillow and choke on a sob, "what do I do now?"

And it comes piling on me again. What my life is and what it was before. The tragedy that has consumed my waking days that I've struggled to suppress. All my efforts to hide the pain of losing my family come back to me. Now I have to live with the nightmare of Paxson and Priscilla raising a child together. The thought is unbearable. I've never felt so hollow in my life. What I would do to see my family again? What I would give to have never met Paxson that day. And through it all, I'm the one to blame.

The swarming thoughts and endless tears continue for what seems to be forever until finally my overthinking mind tires out, and sleep finds me. I woke up to a faint knock on my door, and Fabian standing at my door frame, which is a surprise visit I never expected.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but dinner is on the counter for you when you want it," he says.  I move the hair from my face and struggle to get up. I don't even care that my face is puffy from crying or how drained my eyes must look, but Fabian notices, and his features soften.

"For what it's worth, I don't really like her either. It must suck to see her with the guy that you like."

I nod. "Yeah, it does."

"And now she's having his kid too. That's a double ouch. Not to mention what happened-"

"You're not helping," I say, rubbing my face as fresh tears threaten to come back. Fabian rushes inside my room.

"Sorry, sorry. That's not the right thing to say," he sits on the edge of my bed, "let me try again." He thinks for a moment, biting his lip. His identical hazel eyes match his brother and mom's but his dark hair is definitely from his father.

"You know, when my dad left my mom a year after Caddy was born, he got remarried right away, and I hated him for it. Mom forced us to visit him a few times to try and keep the peace, but she was a bitch. Ethan and Caddy were too small to understand, but Paxson and I were so annoyed with her."

"Was she really that horrible?" I ask, and Fabian points out my door. "She is exactly like her," he scoffs.

"It's funny how life has a way of coming back around. I remember Paxson telling me that he promised himself never to stoop so low as my father did, and now look at him. It's like they're the same person."

"I just don't know what to do now. I mean I can't keep pretending I'm not hurt. This is ruining me, and my family-" my voice breaks, and I cover my face with my hair.

"You don't need to pretend it doesn't bother you. You just need to learn to live on. And I know you will," Fabian rises and I wipe the tears off my cheeks.

"I'll give you some time," the softness in his voice is soothing, and the comfort level I feel to even be crying in front of him right now is remarkable and unexpected.

"If you ever wanna hang out, at school or home, I'm down," he says, and I smile at his invitation. "I may not be my brother, but I promise Ethan and I can be just as fun as him. Plus, I'm equally good-looking."

I laugh and roll my eyes, and he chuckles lightly. Maybe I can slowly learn to live with this, but it doesn't mean it won't along the way.

***

It's only been two weeks, and each day I wish more and more the plane killed me too.

Priscilla's kingdom grows and grows, and everyone seems to be in high spirits, but me. Even Uncle Ronnie is elated to have a baby in the house. He's picking up extra shifts at the car shop to help make extra accommodations. Whitney has also decided to have Caddy share a room with the baby, which sounds like a horrible idea to me. As for the Queen herself, her orders are strict and stern, her mood swings are unbearable and her presence makes me want to bash my head into the wall ten times over. With Paxson so overwhelmed with the news of being a father, I have no one to truly turn to but Fabian and Ethan, who devote their whole lives to Doritos and Fortnite. It does a good job at keeping my mind off things, but it's when I'm alone that my mind is contaminated with a mixture of emotional grief I've been hiding and pain that I pray time heals quickly.

And dare I say it, that's not even the worst part! The cold months have started to make their way to our state. After having a horrible day at school being freezing, stressed, annoyed, and tired, I was hoping for Whitney to pick me up. With Fabian starting football practice, I was praying she'd take me to the library instead of home.  But of course, When I exit the school doors and search for my ride, it's Paxson I see in the driver seat of his obnoxious Ram.

Someone, please, hit me with a car, fast!

It's been weeks since we've ever been in the same room alone together, with little to no conversation. I walk slower than usual, despite my frigid body begging for warmth. But I need a game plan, and some rules during the car ride, or else I'll break. Crack under the proximity. Yell, cry, and lose all control. I can't be like that. I must have some composure. So I rapidly create a list of procedures before meeting my fate.

I'll be quiet, collected, and stare out the window the whole time, no problem. When he asks about school, I'll be dry with my answer. And I won't initiate a conversation. At all.

By the time I've managed to convince myself I'll be perfectly fine for this thirty-minute car ride, I'm in front of the passenger door. My eyes are already glossy from the bitter cold, and my mittens have failed at their only job to keep my hands safe from the weather. All I can do is stare at the door, shaking violently.

Paxson rolls the window down a little. "Hey, it's freezing out there. What are you doing standing around?  Hop in," I snarl to myself in dismay.  Of course, it's freezing, you think I don't know that? Why do guys always need to mansplain everything?

I forcefully swing the car door open and climb inside. Once I'm in, I buckle my seatbelt and lock eyes with the window, just like I planned.

"Okay... Hi to you too," Paxson muffles and puts the car in drive. His attempts to create normal talk are a complete fail, it makes me wonder why he continues to try.

I lasted about two minutes and forty-eight seconds, approximately the same amount of time it takes to exit school grounds, when I break one major rule.

"Ugh! I'm still fricken cold!" I blast the heater and adjust the components to strike my face with warm air. Paxson glances at me with twisted eyebrows and creased lips. "You're a little jumpy today," he implies, and I sneer at him immediately.

"Nice observation. Anything else you wanna add?" I huff when I'm greeted with more silence. "That's what I thought," I mumble. He clears his throat.

"There's something I need to tell you. I'm sure you're a bit surprised that I'm the one who picked you up today."

I interject with more sarcasm. "I don't think our precious pregnant queen would like this very much, now would she? Still, it will be fun for her to blow her top once more, just for kicks," I grin to myself, and he clears his throat again.

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about," With that, I give him a good look. The black beanie on his head and the navy winter coat are cute on him. He hasn't shaved in a few weeks, and his hair is past his ears now. He looks tired with baggy eyes and even his voice sounds worn out, not to mention his chapped lips and cracked knuckles. I haven't looked at him in weeks, and now that I am, I can see clearly that he seems unwell and exhausted.

"Priscilla is packing her bags and leaving tonight. I'm helping her move out the rest of her things tomorrow." His hands relax on the steering wheel as if this confession has brought him ease. I pinch my arm to make sure I'm not dreaming then breathe in a few times. My heart replies with instant flutters, but the confusion that buzzes inside me is more than I can bear.

"Umm, what?"

"You heard me. She's leaving."

"And, you're going with her?" My voice breaks and sentences and I cling to the last pieces of my shattered heart.

He sighs calmly. "No, Prim. I'm done with her. Her and her games. I won't torture my family or myself anymore."

I turn my body to face him now, still struggling to comprehend. "Paxson, what happened?"

"Last night, something clicked in my brain. I couldn't wrap my mind around it at first. I was in too much shock. But then... it hit me."

***

I knock on my bedroom door, hoping she's changed before I walk in. I hate that she lets me in when she's not dressed. Priscilla sits at my nightstand, her perfume bottles and makeup kits have consumed its space. She's tying her hair in a high bun before she rubs this floral mask on her face. A nightly routine that's starting to annoy me. I'll never understand the need for it all, but she says it's "pivotal" that she puts on this mask, or else she'll break out into hives.

I rest on the bed and plan my words accordingly.

"You know I've sorta been thinking," I see her smile spread across her face in the mirror.

"Oh no, Paxson's been thinking again. That's dangerous." She slides off the chair and brings herself closer to me. Her hand massages my shoulder. She does this a lot and wants to seduce me into losing my train of thought. It never works, I don't know why she keeps trying. I have to restrain myself from pushing her touch away and focus on what I want to say.

"All this doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

"The baby, the timing. I was doing the math, If that were my child, you'd be a little over four months. You're a skinny girl, we'd probably see some sort of baby bump by now."

Priscilla freezes, the blood that was rushing from her face now turns pale white. I know I'm onto something.

"There isn't a child, is there? You faked the pregnancy and the doctor's note, didn't you? And you thought I wouldn't find out?"

The defeat on her face lets me know the game is over. Priscilla's lip trembles. Her hands cover her eyes and she weeps in her hands. A real weep. This is her crying. It's probably the only time I've ever seen her show real emotions.

"I am pregnant, but the baby's not yours..." she wipes away running tears. "I'm a little over a month now."

"Why? Why would you lie to me like that? I thought my whole life was over. You tried to trick me. Hell, you did trick me!"

"I did it because I love you!" she cries desperately, "So much. I know for a fact you'd be a better father than the biological one. I trust you with my life, and I'm scared of what's to come."

I pat her back softly. I think for once in my life, a feel a little sympathy toward her. "I'm sure it's very scary, but you need to understand that you've been messing with me. And I've been stupid enough to let it slide because I felt worthless. But I'm done being pushed around."

"I know," she sobs again, "I'm so sorry! Honestly, I didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted you all to myself. I'm selfish. And the whole situation with her is just disgusting and unbearable."

"Priscilla, I want you to listen to me very closely. I know it's weird for you, but you need to understand, that I do like Prim. I tried to get over her, I even left, but I can't. She's my best friend. And if she turns of age and just wants to stay friends, I will accept that. But I will not allow myself to suffer anymore or force anything. I'm sorry that your feelings are one-sided, but I refuse to continue this charade," I rise from the bed. Her whimpering continues. "I will not raise your child, and you will not stay with us."

"I don't get it," she shakes her head in disgust. "How can you love her? She has nothing-"

"I could ask the same of you," I say.

"You are everything to me! You're beautiful-"

"But that's just what you see. There's so much more to me than my looks. You don't even know me. Prim actually knows me."

"What? Does she think you're her knight and shining armor? A teen romance? That's pathetic," she snorts.

"No. She sees me as the kindhearted, hard-working, and imperfect person I am. For her, who I am is enough. I don't need to pretend to be someone I'm not."

"But she'll never love you like I-"

"I do not love you. I never did. I'm sorry."

Silence follows after, and I take it as my cue to leave. "I'll take the couch tonight, and tomorrow I'll help you pack. After that, please don't come around looking for attention, because you won't find it here. My patience has run out."

I let the door gently close on the way out.

***

"So," I say, breathing heavily, "she's gone? Officially?" Paxson looks out on the empty road, parked right in front of our house. It feels much newer now, with new possibilities and hopes that may finally come true.

"She won't worm her way into my life or yours anymore. Officially," he says. It's quiet in the car, both of us far from eager to head inside. Mostly because of the few frigid steps it takes to get there, but also because of how calm it is in here. Like we're hiding in the walls of our universe.

But even in the silence after the storm, my uncertainty digs into my scalp. "What do we do now?" I ask. A ghost smile creases his face, small but one of the most genuine smiles I've seen in a long time.

"Now, we wait," he says.

"For what, exactly?" I ask. Paxson unclasps his seatbelt, then unclasps mine. His eyes roam over my face, then he carefully leans closer to me and cups my hand in his. He gently kisses it, and I could swear my body was a furnace.

"For time to finally allow you to be mine. If you'll have me."

I let the silence of this blissful moment be my answer.