Kylie

"Ssshh, we don't want my aunt to catch us, she's crazy." I roll my eyes.

Using my finger, I move it in circular motions to make my point.

"I heard that Kylie."

I squeal, grabbing Dakota’s hand in a tight grip.

My aunt is waiting by the other kitchen door that leads to the passage. Her cheeks are flushed and red. She must've ran to the tree house on the end of the property. Why would she think I’d go there.

Aunt Milda isn't blonde like mama but she did have the famous Orniel blue eyes. She is my mama's younger sister but not the brightest.

"I need to call papa Aunt Milda,” I tell her.

Her response is a stern look, but we both know she isn't fooling anyone. My Aunt is as soft as mush, crazy, but soft.

I don't chance it though, I am still scared she might call me back to eat that meat.

Keeping my grip tight on Dakota’s hand I waste no time pushing past my Aunt.

My mama keeps telephones and cell phones all over the house, so it doesn't take me long to spot the one on the white sofa.

Letting go of Dakota’s hand I throw myself on the couch, dialling my papa. It doesn't ring long before I hear my papas voice,

“Kylie.”

“Papa, I need help, it's business.” I drawl in my squeaky voice.

My papa is silent before he starts laughing. I am confused as to why he is laughing. I hear a giggle behind me- Dakota is laughing too. It must be something in the air making all these people crazy.

After hours, which is really just a minute my papa clears his throat, “What can I do for you Miss Bray.”

Now I start giggling, my papa is so funny,

“Papa,” I roll my eyes,

“My new friend needs a nickname.”

“A what honey?”

“A nickname papa, you know like Stone calls me Ky, she says her papa own them motorcycle clubs and she needs a nickname.”

My papa is quiet, before he clears his throat, I don't know why he does it so often,

“I see, Michaels new student.”

“You know her papa,” I question.

“Yes, honey, how about you give her a nickname, then it will be special. This is something you can handle yourself Kylie. You are my daughter honey, I trust you.”

I sit up straight at the tone in his voice, my papa trusts me to handle this myself, I won't let him down.

“Okay papa, I gotta go, love ya.”

“Love you too honey.”

I jump off the couch, eyeing Dakota tapping her foot. I look at her face. Taking in her hair that is almost white with big dark brown eyes and skin so pale it hurts my vision,

“How about Snow, We can call you Snow, like Snow White.”

She frowns, “That's as bad as nameless geek, I don't even like fairy tales.”

I put my hands on my hips. Who doesn't like fairy tales, psssst? A smarty pants, I think.

“I'm just thinking aloud, give me a break, gee,” I roll my eyes.

The front door opens and the voices down the hall perk me up.

Mama's home.

“Mama,” I yell.

It isn't long after when she walks into the lounge and I spot the shiny bracelets with all those stones she likes wearing.

I look at Dakota, who is gaping at mama because my mama is very pretty. I know that, I see it too, along with the entire world. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and white thighs, mama is the perfect Southern Woman.

I resemble my papa, with black hair and brown eyes. I never complain, looks ain't important to me. I prefer strength. Michael always says a strong mind is just as beautiful as a sharp face.

I clap my hands together, “How about Rock.” I am careful to speak better in front of my mama and drop the accent, famously known as the ‘Kylie Twang.’ My mama never wastes time giving me time out - by the wall.

“What are you talking about Kylie, come give me a hug.” My mama is wearing a grey suit today, she was helping Hector with his work this past week because we’re all going to the L.A home for the holidays.

“I'm trying to give Dakota a nickname,” I say before I throw all my weight on her.

I'm tall but my mama catches me, giving me a big kiss smack on the lips,

“A nickname ha?” She asks.

Nodding, I smile when my mama's blue eyes quirk up in that way that makes Uncle Hector all mushy. “Yeah.”

Dakota's small voice steals my attention and I turn to face the five-year-old, “Rock is too boyish, I want a girl's nickname.”

I scrunch my brows up in concentration, turning my head to look at my mama, and that's when I get it.

I scream,

“Diamond, Diamond.”

Moving out of my mama's arms I beam at Dakota, “Your name can be Diamond.”

She frowns before nodding and runs towards me, with open arms, “Diamond is good, really good, Kylie.”

I lift her up and we both fall down, laughing,

“We are so gonna be best friends.” When I say those words I don't know at the time how true they would be.

Together we ruled right through high school. There was nothing that could separate us, not even us. Who would have thought that a simple phone call would do what hundreds of others had failed? But even then distance makes the heart grow fonder, for us it gave us POWER.