Young Adult Fiction
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She opened it and sprinkled something onto a hand mirror. A pure white powder. She divided it in half, stuck a short straw up one nostril and snorted the powder.
"Cocaine?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said, "it's way better than beer. Try some." She pushed it towards me. "Go on, it won't hurt you."
I should have said no. But I just stared at that innocent-looking white powder and said nothing.
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Papá siempre decía: "La palabra crisis es sólo otra forma de decir oportunidad".
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"No. It's not okay. You're not going." He used the voice.
"Excuse me?" "You can't tell me what to do!"
"Oh yes I can—I'm your father!"
"Since when?"
