Pretending to Be Erica Read Online Free Page A

I hug her and she laughs something in Spanish. I flop onto the bed and spread my arms, feeling the high-quality softness, so different from the thin motel blankets I’d slept in most of my life. Dinner is short ribs practically falling off the bone. Dessert is sorbet. I’m in heaven. These meals are a million times better than Sal’s burnt monstrosities or convenience store takeout. Mrs. Silverman pushes a glass of wine toward me, her eyes twinkling.
    “Try it. Sip slowly. It’s a very good wine from a very good vineyard.”
    Sal’s let me have sips of his favorite whiskey. This is milder, more fruity. It doesn’t burn as much as whiskey. I still cough. Mrs. Silverman laughs and takes a sip.
    “Now that you’re officially in high school, let’s lay some ground rules.”
    “Rules,” I echo.
    “Alcohol, for instance.” She spins the wine glass by its stem. “A few sips here and there won’t do you any harm. But you’re young, and groups of young people like to drink. You’ll make friends soon, I’m sure. The Erica I know is loved everywhere she goes.”
    I want to grimace, but Erica forces a flattered face instead.
    “Believe me when I say there is plenty of time for drinking in your life. You don’t have to do it all at once. That’s not healthy. I don’t mind the occasional drink—as long as you’re at home with your friends, and I have the keys to everyone’s cars. Is that clear?”
    I’d seen glimpses of her stern side before, when she’d demanded to know the details of my life with my kidnappers. If it concerns my safety or my past, she becomes an iron-spined demon of willpower. I nod meekly.
    “Crystal clear.”
    “If you ever find yourself in a position where everyone is drunk, where you are uncomfortable or feel scared about getting in the car, call me. I’ll pick you up no matter what, and I won’t ask questions.”
    “No questions asked?” I tilt my head.
    “None at all. I might need answers after incident two, though.”
    I nod. It sounds fair enough. Sal never gave me any restrictions, really, except that I had to be home in time to pull a con or catch the bus/train/plane with him to our next port of shelter. Partying was redundant when you pulled cons in nightclubs on a daily basis. Loose pockets on the dance floor, easily blackmailed Johns with overeager libidos and the stupidity to hit on an underage girl like me. Sorority girls looking for coke and scoring baking soda instead. The possibilities were endless. But going just for fun? Just to drink and not to make money? That sounds like a waste of time.
    “Did those people tell you everything?” Mrs. Silverman presses. “About growing older, and, ah, interactions with the opposite sex?”
    “I got that talk. Pretty sure I know how it works.”
    “You should know there’s always a condom involved. Always. I’ll have no STDs or pregnancies from you. I want you to have the best life you can now that you’re home.”
    Violet rolls her eyes. Erica blushes. “I’ll be safe. Common sense, right?”
    “If you want to get birth control, we’ll schedule a doctor’s appointment. Just tell me. Be open with me.”
    This is what parents do. It feels weird. Moving around with Sal left me little time for solid friends, let alone boys or love. It was never an option when every day was spent plotting a con for tomorrow or running from yesterday’s. I’d pretended to be in love before, when it was part of a con. The emptiness bleeds through in my words.
    “I doubt anybody will like me enough to do that sort of thing with me.”
    Mrs. Silverman’s brow wrinkles. “Of course someone will like you, and you’ll like them. It’s just a matter of time. I want you to be properly prepared when it does arrive.”
    It won’t arrive. I smile like it might. People like it when you’re stupidly optimistic. Makes them want to protect you.
    “Thanks for dinner. And everything.”
    “What have we said about thanking me?” She looks at me