Priscilla finally decided that drugs weren't for her. She didn't even understand why she thought they were, after years of wanting nothing to do with them. When the Molly wore off, she remembered everything she had said and done. And honestly, it was embarrassing for her.

She had made out with two guys, guys she shouldn't have made out with, in a two minute span of each other. She remembered how it felt to not even being in control of everything you did, not having any real conscious telling you to stop. She hated it.

Priscilla had hundreds of text messages since the carnival on Friday, none she had replied to.

She had received twelve from Kat.

How are you feeling? Horrible.

Who was the better kisser? Fez, definitely.

Would you do it again? Lowkey, yes.

She had five from Brettman.

Who was that guy? My jealous ex best friend, who is in love with me, duh.

Are you okay? No, not really.

Would you want to hang out again sometime? That's to be determined.

The rest were just pictures of his dick.

Sixteen from Fez.

Don't ever do that shit again, yeah she didn't want to.

I'm worried about you, ugh shut up.

Please call me, no.

I miss you, yeah I miss you too.

Priscilla let out a groan, throwing her phone on the bed as she stood up to start getting ready for school. After finishing her daily routine, Priscilla headed downstairs to grab something before she left. Priscilla walked into the kitchen, to find her parents sitting at the table. The girl didn't say anything as she opened up the refrigerator.

She grabbed the juice as her mother cleared her throat, "Good morning."

Priscilla mumbled the greeting back, trying to find a cup to pour her juice in.

Her mother stood up from the table, beginning to walk over, "I barely saw you all weekend, you've been holed up in your room."

"Yeah," Priscilla took a sip, "I haven't been feeling well."

"You never feel well nowadays, mija."

Priscilla gave her mother a look, raising her eyebrow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

When her mother looked over her shoulder towards her father, Priscilla glanced in the same direction. Her father sighed, picking at the food on his plate, "It means we noticed you've been coming home late most nights, you're constantly hung over, Priscilla."

"Just because I don't feel well, doesn't mean I'm hungover!" Priscilla scoffed, making her mother upset.

She waved a finger in her daughter's face, "No me mientas, Priscilla. Sé lo que veo. You've come home late at nights, and in the morning you look like this."

"So what?" Priscilla narrowed her eyes at her mother, "I still get my shit done. I go to work, I go to school."

"Do you?" Her father questioned. He held up a letter, with the stamp of the high school seal on the bottom.

Fuck, Priscilla thought.

Whenever she didn't attend school for more than five days each semester, the school always sent notices home. They were meant for parents but Priscilla always made sure to grab them before her parents could.

"On top of that, a couple of weeks ago you had that-that boy come to the restaurant. What was that about?" Her mother questioned.

Priscilla rolled her eyes, "I didn't ask him to come, it was nothing."

"You know we don't like you around guys like him," her father reminded.

"Well, you don't even have to worry about him. I stopped talking to him a while ago."

"One more lie, mija, one more notice like that de la escuela y yo juro por Dios."

Priscilla rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked in between both of her parents, neither of them saying a word, "Can I go now?"