1st 5 Pages January Workshop- Majo & Nessa Rev 1

Name: Majo and Nessa

Genre: Young Adult Contemporary

Title: WRECK-TANGLED

One lick never killed anyone.

Unless it was poison.

And considering Mom’s glare, a strawberry tart might just as well be poison.

Further down the buffet table, Mom turned her back to me and leaned over the fizzy water fountain. My eyes roamed over the golden croissant on her plate, then lowered toward the poor slices of kiwi in mine.

Ugh.

The table was dotted with foodie crimes—caramel custards, white-chocolate cupcakes, decadent éclairs, creamy cheesecakes. All gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, and Asena-free. It was unfair. A torture.

Come on, Ase. It’s just one lick.

The strawberry tart was waving at me from the dessert tray, a glazed gelée coating its crust in sweetened swirls of forbidden bliss.

One swipe. One lick.

A vicious voice rose inside me. She won’t see you.

“Asena?”

I jumped, my knuckles snapping against the side of the table. My kiwis nearly toppled off to the floor, but remained glued to the crystal sheen of the plate. Dammit.

I blinked back tears of pain as I looked up to Mom. She was gaping at my plate, her lashes fluttering in confusion. For a moment I thought she would offer me a treat (a multigrain bagel, perhaps?) but her hand closed around a jar of pear salad that she promptly added to my plate.

“You need fruits. They’re good for your skin.” Leaning over, she whispered, “Did you try the face masks I bought you?”

I nodded, pressing my painful hand to my mouth. “Hm-hm.”

Mom straightened, her signature glare piercing holes into my cheeks. “Do you know how to use them? You have terrible circles under your eyes. People will wonder what you stayed up doing a Saturday night.”

By people, she meant Miss Chen, her best-friend-worst-nemesis who we were having brunch with. These two had a habit of keeping scores and an accurate history of everything the other’s children had ever done wrong in their lives. It was a sort of competition. These brunches were outright interrogations, and skipping on one was pleading guilty. It was their way of maintaining the peace between two dictatorial queendoms. To me, it was another torture.

“I was finishing a report,” I replied, evasively, my attention back to the buffet table.

Not for that chemistry test, that was for sure. I had been writing a long, positively detailed report to Daya about what went down the night before.

The reason behind this majestically-filled-with-exclamation-points wall of text? The reason I’d barely slept and got us late to brunch this morning?

A smile perked up on my lips.

“Asena!” Mom whisper-shouted.

Busted, a voice called out in my head. I’d been staring at the strawberry tart for too long.

Mom was on her way back to our table—her favorite venue, next to the palatial bay windows, where the lighting of the morning sun gave her pale skin a brilliant glow.

I muttered a silent goodbye to my friend the strawberry tart and shuffled back toward Mom.

I reached the table at the same time as Truby, Miss Chen’s son. He shot me the barest of lip twitch before taking the seat next to the one I was going for. I hesitated, considering rounding the table to sit beside Mom, when Miss Chen appeared in her turquoise dress, assaulting me with all the shiny glitters. Her sharp gaze made a sweep of me in my white peplum dress.

“You’ve gotten so tall, Asena.”

Miss Chen made sure I remembered my height every Sunday. Thank goodness she was here or I might forget how much I could never find long enough leggings to wear during classes. I solved the issue by wearing leg warmers over my pants any chance I got—until Mom decreed this was not a proper dress code for young, respectable, future-med-school students. It was as though she feared some college rep from the Ivy League was going to creep the student halls and add my name to the debauched list. (Because there obviously was such a thing as a debauched list.) And thanks to my leg warmers, my name might already be on it. But, just to be safe, Mom took the natural precautions and bought me a dress for every occasion. A bit much? Not to Mom. And clearly not to Miss Chen.

“I eat all my vegetables,” I replied with a tight smile.

Not picking up on my gruff tone, Miss Chen beamed. “Tall girls like you usually have trouble finding tall boys to mate.”

Despite myself, I winced.

In normal circumstances, I would’ve glanced around to make sure no one else had heard, and definitely not looked over to Truby who I knew was hiding his face deep in his mug of coffee. Normally, I would’ve made a fool of myself and lost it. But I couldn’t give Mom any more reasons to hate me, so I simply pulled out my own chair and plopped on it.

“Asena doesn’t have time to mate.”

I coughed—a nervous tic I’d never been able to shake. Those who’d known me long enough knew it came from embarrassment. Those who didn’t figured it out pretty quickly.

Right now I was thankful for my mother, the voice of wisdom, and eternal savior of my soul. Looking at her, she seemed to idolize me. Listening to her, I was some kind of otherworldly goddess who could do no wrong.

All an act, but I wasn’t complaining.

Mom rose her chin higher. “She has a big test coming up next week.”

Yes. The big test. The one I absolutely, unquestionably, non-negotiably had to pass. Without these extra credits, I couldn’t apply to med school. Without med school, I couldn’t ensure the succession of the cardiologist gene that ran in my family. I would be a sham. An unworthy child meant for exile.

Miss Chen let out a disinterested hum and picked up a warm cinnamon roll with two manicured fingers. She licked at her thumb, her eyes sparkling with delight, and eagerly reached for her dessert spoon.

The soft pastry gave way to the spoon, and a cloud of heat escaped, a scented joy that made my stomach grumble. Truby shot me a look. Being the same age, he was in most of my classes. Sometimes I had a feeling he was spying on me on behalf of his mother. Mom certainly suggested I did the same.

I shifted on my seat, and stabbed my fork into a piece of pear. Facing us, Mom and Miss Chen raved on about some Kamila girl who’d dared to send her children to Canada. Quite frankly, McGill University seemed like a good enough school. But I wasn’t sitting at the good enough table.

Something brushed against my leg. As I peeked under the table, my heart made a rattling jump. How did you get there, buddy? My friend the strawberry tart sat next to me on the cushioned chair.

I lifted my eyes and met Truby’s. He stared back at me with an expression I couldn’t read. The murder weapon laid between us, inconspicuous, and outrageously delicious. My mouth started to water. This time one lick wouldn’t be enough. This tart deserved to be eaten whole.

“Asena?”

I startled so hard that my arm spasmed and the tart made a dive to the floor. I hid it behind my crossed legs as I gawked at Mom. Had she seen what had happened? Had I voiced my sinful thoughts aloud? Was the tart all right?