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Perfect Collision

By:Lina Andersson


14 years, 5 months


I WAS STARTING TO suspect I would never fully forgive my parents for giving me the name Violet.

Violet Warren.

Seriously, who did that to their kid? It sounded like the name of an old hag. An old hag with a pet lizard, because I was pretty damn sure there was some type of lizard called Warren—or something close to that.

My big sister's name was Lisa; she looked a lot like our mom. Which meant she was beautiful. She had long blonde hair, nice full lips, almost black eyes, and big boobs. She was smart, always did well in school, friendly, and in general just fucking perfect. She'd moved to California to become a doctor. That's how smart she was. And Lisa was a good name. It sounded... sexy and cute. Kind of like she was.

My hair was mouse-colored. I had no boobs, a small mouth, a blunt, chubby nose, and my eyes were sort of beer-colored. I hated school, wasn't doing well in anything except art, and was in no way perfect.

My mom kept saying things would change, that I'd open up, get friends, and boobs. I doubted any of that would happen. Lisa's were a lot bigger when she was fourteen, and I wasn't sure I wanted friends. It would be cool to have people that, like, got me, but I didn't think there was anyone in school that could. I mean, if I didn't understand them, it was hard to imagine them understanding me.

The fact that my dad, Brian Warren—better known as Bear, was the VP in the local MC didn't help me get friends at school. It did, however, mean I had club kid friends. Club kids stuck together, like family. I didn't exactly talk to them. I was sort of the odd cousin in the family, but at least they didn't bother me.

Not that other kids bothered me that often, besides, like... existing. They mostly didn't notice me, and I was fine with that. I didn't want to be noticed.

I was sort of the odd cousin when it came to Mom as well. She didn't get me, and we didn't get along at all. She always said I'd been daddy's girl since the day I was born and that he'd let me get away with anything. 'You'd let the girl get away with murder,' was what she usually said. He probably would, but he wouldn't let me get away with being lazy, which is what she thought.

Dad understood me, what I found hard in school, how I had to close my eyes to be able to focus on the teacher, things like that. He knew why I didn't like people, or being around people, or just generally talking to them. I always blushed and stuttered like a moron when people tried to talk to me.

According to a shrink, I displayed 'several traits indicating that I was socially awkward.' That's the exact quote. He said it just like that, with those words, and he seemed all concerned I'd be upset about it. But really—it wasn't like I hadn't noticed.

At the moment, I was leaning over the edge of the bathtub, rinsing my hair. The water was clear and had been for a while, so I turned it off and straighten my back. It hurt a bit; I'd been standing hunched over for quite some time. I walked over to look in the mirror above the sink, and when I saw my reflection, the word 'fuck' came to mind. That was pretty much what went through my head over and over again.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

It had seemed like a pretty cool idea, but when I saw the result it just seemed idiotic.

When my phone rang, I picked it up from the small shelf underneath the mirror and answered it, still staring at my own reflection in horror.


“Violet, honey. We just came back from the airport with Lisa, but she wanted to meet everyone, so we decided to have lunch at the clubhouse.”

Mom. Hearing Mom's voice did not calm me down. Not that it ever did, but this time it was a little worse than usual. Going to the clubhouse today had not been the plan at all. I wasn't sure I'd really had a plan, but showing up at the clubhouse looking like this would sure as shit not have been a part of any plan I might have come up with. Not in front of Lisa.

And Mac. He was there as well. I hadn't seen him much since he left for Kansas, but I knew he was here for Easter. Now I'd have to walk into the clubhouse, looking like this, being yelled at by Mom, while standing next to Lisa.

“Uh... okay... I need to dry my hair. I’ll be there soon.”

“I can come and pick you up. Or Dad, that way you'll get a ride with him.”

“No!” I almost yelled. “No, that’s okay. I’ll take my bicycle, that’s fine.”

I knew I was just trying to avoid something that would eventually happen anyway, but I needed to get used to the thought of how much shit I'd get for this.

“Okay, honey. I’ll see you soon.”


I hung up the phone, shoving it into the back pocket of my cut-offs while still staring into the mirror, and it hit me.

I was dead.

Mom was going to kill me. Maybe even Dad. Or they might just give me to the big, shaved, tattooed, and extremely intimidating Bull and have him do it.

I dried my hair and tried to straighten it, but that was futile. It didn't matter what I did, within ten minutes it would have curls again. While looking at my already curly hair a while later, I sighed.

Yup. I was so dead.

That's when I realized I should've accepted Mom's offer to get a ride from Dad, because now I was gonna have to face Mom's gut reaction at the clubhouse in front of everyone. Which was what I'd been worried about to begin with. It didn't matter what those doctors had said; I was not smart.

Dead woman walking, I thought to myself while dressing and throwing my bag over my shoulder. Or, more like dead girl walking.

Biking, I corrected myself as I sat up on my bicycle and started towards the clubhouse.

Dead girl biking.


Bear relaxed on the couch, and smiled as he listened to Lisa blabbing to Ella. She seemed happy and it was nice to see her. He didn't think she came home often enough. He missed his oldest daughter and her sunshine mood.