A Tall Dark Trouble by Vanessa Montalban EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Vanessa Montalban
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
LELA
My thoughts should be purely holy at this moment. What with “Tu Gloria”
pouring out from the squeaky speakers and the old ladies singing off-key
from the front pews. But I’m dying to get out of here. Church is just one of
the many things I put up with solely for the sake of my mother.
The altar dude makes his way down the aisle with the collection basket,
giving my twin the flirty eye.
“Think he’d pinch some of the cash for me?” Delfi—said twin—nudges
my shoulder. She gives her admirer a little wave, then the finger.
I lock eyes with a bored cherub staring down from the ceiling. “You
seriously have no chill.”
Delfi laughs, and our mom tosses us a dark look from her honorary seat
up front, right next to Padre Javier. He always tasks Mami with handling the
golden goblet of wine and the silver tin of altar bread. Right now, she looks
like a wrathful Lady Justice balancing divine gifts.
Delfi and I quickly rise, stifling laughter as we raise our hands for praise.
Mami’s grip tightens around the holy objects. In case her message still isn’t
clear, she does her scary wide-eyed, chin-jut thing that effectively shuts us
up. I can practically see my full name spelled out in that look. Ofelia Mila
Sánchez, either you quiet down, or I will quiet you down. In Spanish, of
course, which sounds a million times more threatening.
My full name is reserved for special occasions only. Lela is the
nickname I’m stuck with because when we were babies, Delfi was
permanently affixed to her pacifier and couldn’t properly pronounce
“Ofelia,” and Mami thought the nickname was the cutest thing ever.
Though judging by the feral gleam in her eye, the fond memory is currently
far from her mind.
The moment Mami does look away, Delfi’s talking again, the main
reason she spent the majority of senior year in detention.
“What the—” My sister’s eyes flit to the gigantic portrait of Jesus.
“What the heck, who’s the DJ today? My arms are killing me.”
She drops her arms with a groan. I shoot her a look, keeping mine up
even though they’re starting to shake. Usually, the church alternates
between a song, a prayer, sit, kneel, stand, raise arms, rinse, and repeat. But
Delfi’s right; whoever’s working the sound system has played three songs
in a row, and even the pious Señora Benitez is sweating.
When the music finally ends, we plop down on the bench in relief.
Delfi’s loud sigh earns another glower from Mami. My sister takes out her
tarot cards and begins to shuffle them until I kick her shoe. With a roll of
her eyes, she puts them away, then laces her arm through mine, resting her
head on my shoulder.
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