**WORK IN PROGRESS**
Tired of the blight in their neighborhoods, three girls relocate to a small town in sunny Georgia, where the people are happy and always friendly…until secrets are revealed and true identities are exposed.
0 Very frustrated
1 Ready to shoot computer
2 Shocked at what’s written
4 Watching TV
5 Logical & Calm
6 Working at novel
TODAY, MINE IS: 6
Fatima was feeling herself. She was wearing a brand new khaki dress that had snap-buttons on the front and came right above her knees. Her brown wedge sandals had satin fabric with oriental print on them. She was combing out her wrap and in awe at how her hair hung past her shoulders when she heard the door slam.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Said Ty, the unexpected guest.
“You are not welcome in my house. So, please, get out.”
“You don’t tell me where the fuck I’m welcome. Now, answer my fucking question?”
With the confidence of a runway model, Fatima strutted towards the door, but was stopped short when the back of Ty’s hand slammed in her face. Her face got hot instantly, and she felt the skin raising. The next thing she knew she was on the ground, fighting for her life. She had gotten somewhat accustomed to doing this for she had been protecting herself from Ty for two years. But this time was different. Normally, she’d fight back and even win. This time, she felt defeated. So, she just lied there, crying, taking each and every punch, slap, kick.
9 MONTHS AGO
Fatima and her best friend Dominique were all giddy as they stepped off the plane and headed to baggage claim. Feeling out of place, Fatima took off her goose-feathered coat and hoodie and tied it around her waist.
“Damn. I knew Georgia was hot, but 70 degrees in November? That’s crazy.” Fatima said as she fanned herself.
“Right! Look, they got on daisy dukes.” Dominique pointed to a random girl.
“This doesn’t even seem normal. It’s supposed to be cold around Thanksgiving. I can get used to this.”
Fatima scanned the people in the airport and those outside. She was amazed at their attire. She could never get away with wearing shorts in November in Michigan. They walked outside to the curb, scoping the cars for a red Mustang.
“Did you tell Mesha what time to pick us up?” Fatima asked.
“Yeah, she knows. Pump yo brakes lil red corvette.” Dominique teased.
“It’s hot as hell out here, shoot. I’m ‘bout ready to take off these sweat pants if she don’t hurry up.”
They heard a horn honking in the distance but paid it no attention the first couple of times. After the honk became insistent, they turned in its direction, only to see Mesha flailing her arms, signaling for them.
“That doesn’t look like a Mustang to me,” Fatima said to Dominique.
“Hmm, maybe it got repo’d. “ Dominique responded to Fatima’s observation.