#violatile.

“   it   MUST   be   stolen.   ”   it’s   the   only   reasonable   conclusion.   but   𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚗𝚘   𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚜   about   holding   on   to   someone   else’s   money.   “   the   man   who   gave   it   to   me   had   a   tattoo,   dime   lion.   ”   she’d   done   work   for   them   before,   but   she’d   done   work   for   𝐀𝐋𝐋   the   major   gangs   before   and   she’d   completed   no   job   that   would   entitle   her   to  𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝   𝙖   𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚   𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩.   it   wasn’t   payment.   she   smirks,   lifting   a   stack   and   running   a   manicured   finger   through   it,   “   i’m   thinking   we   spend   it   all   and   plead   ignorance   when   someone   comes   looking.   ”

“   i   could   encourage   one   of   the   girls   in   my   cabin   to   puke,   make   us   EVEN.   ”   odette   𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚜   𝚘𝚞𝚝   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜,   surveying   the   cabin   and   scrunching   up   her   nose   when   she   gets   a   whiff   of   𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩   𝙝𝙖𝙙   𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙   of   last   night’s   meal.   they’d   already   stripped   the   kid’s   bed   (   multiple   times   )   and   while   odette   knew   she   didn’t   need   to   be   doing   this,   it   wasn’t   as   if   it   were   LIV’S   FAULT   she   had   a   chronically   sick   girl   in   her   cabin.   “   but   only   if   𝚢𝚘𝚞   𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙   𝚖𝚎   clean   it   up.   ”   pulling   on   the   bright   yellow   cleaning   gloves,   she   does   a   little   twirl,  “   what   do   you   think   ?   do   they   𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽   𝓂𝓎   𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒻𝒾𝓉   ?   ”   odette   grins,   “   i’m   thinking   of   calling   it   camp   chic.   ”

in   truth,   the   distance   was   a   reprieve.   these   days,   odette   would   do   most   anything   to   get   away   from   her   mother.   she   playfully   bumps   liv’s   shoulder   with   her   own,   a   weak   attempt   of   ＥＮＣＯＵＲＡＧＥＭＥＮＴ   before   her   grin   fades,   “   what’d   she   do   this   time   ?   ”   she   knows   she   doesn’t   need   to   clarify   who.   the   faces   changed   in   shadyside,   but   the   stories   never   did.

bell   chimes   as   she   lightly   pushes   open   the   door,   gentle   smile   tugging   at   her   lips   at   all   the   items   collecting   dust,   lost   to   time.   music   can   be   heard   from   behind   the   counter   and   she   moves   to   the   front   of   the   store,   leaning   on   the   glass   counter   and   ringing   the   BELL   with   a   light   tap,   “   excuse   me   but   i   have   to   ask,   what   do   you   have   for   jewelry   ?   ”