Will they, however, prove it to those who does not believe?
"Always word, same old shit." Presley muttered to herself before removing her sloppy shirt and replacing it with a neat jumper.
Before applying her chapstick, she combed her hair and pulled it into a high ponytail.
"Presley! Mrs. Smith called me too, are we in trouble?!" Fleur then blasted into the room, as the other lady shook her head.
Unlike Presley Edwards, she was sweating buckets and was always nervous about such things that didn't bother an inch of her friend's skin.
"It's probably just because of the fight we had with Xiomara, don't be too stressed about it. Also, they'll press more punishments for me than you."
Fleur sighed in relief, before she handed her a bottled water.
Mrs. Smith appeared to be as old and stressed as she had always been, most likey because she had married and given birth to her children. That is something I should remember. I'd like to mature like a fine wine.
She sat in her assigned chair, wearing her old eyeglasses and wiping the wrinkles from the corner of her eyes.
The woman even appears to be older than her actual age; I've heard she's only 56, but she appears to be a 64-year-old widow with no connection to any of her children.
"Oh God, I'm shaking." Fleur whispered in my ear as I entwine our hands in the hope of alleviating her pain.
We're going downhill fast, but at least we're doing it together. In Lucy Cares, it's just another day.
"Miss Edwards and Miss Gomez, please get in and close the doors."
We did as she asked, despite the fact that we were already exhausted from three hours of lecture.
"Please take a seat because I have some important news to share with you."
Fleur and I exchanged glances before I offered her a seat. Behind this sassy mask is a young lady with anger issues but okay.
Mrs. Smith cleared her throat, before pulling two papers from the folder stack.
"I have good news for both of you, and one negative for Presley."
"Uhm... ok?" I answered, feeling my heart throb against my beautiful chest.
"I announce both of you as soon to be adopted," smiling as if she were a mother whose children had completed a college degree.
"Oh my God! That's fantastic!" Before the old woman gave us a look, Fleur said as we screamed in unison.
"Mhm, you may leave now, Miss Gomez,"
"I'll send you the details later, have a good night." Fleur kissed my cheek, before gesturing to me that she'll go ahead.
Given that I don't have the best relationship with the mad woman, the silence was deafening.
"Presley, you're leaving tonight." she stated empathetically.
"Straight to the point, madam," I joked, with tears circling in my sphere of vision.
"I don't want to get emotional at any moment, I'm too old," she chuckled, before opening her drawer and taking out a black box.
"That's not a gun, is it?"
She chuckled, "No darling, this is my gift to you."
"Damn, not even close to drugs?" I joked.
"No, unless chocolates are your drug."
She clenched her left fist, and just noticed how pale her entire arm is. Being someone who works in the film and photography industry made her busy and barely get an 8 hours of sleep.
Her mind cannot figure out why her father won't give her a break. All of her efforts are directed toward his satisfaction and the fulfillment of his expectations.
She already can't manage her own depression and anxiety, let alone handle another human being who is younger by lot of years.
After all it was just an early night at her father's office on the 38th floor of their building.
"No way, I'm not adopting anyone." she scoffed at his father, who then threw her a sharp look with his cold blue eyes.
"You get too much money, you work in the film industry, you work as a model and brand endorser, why can't you share?"
She chuckled sarcastically, before she finger-brushed her blonde hair.
He sighed disappointedly, and even managed to massage his temples.
"You're really like your mother." he lastly say, before he closed his black briefcase and carried it.
He then turned to face her, hoping to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.
In his mind he didn't see his daughter's attitude and selfishness getting her anywhere. He walked out of the the room, his heart aching.
There was nothing else she could do, but laugh like a psychopath. She'll never be as talented and perfect as her mother was.
Sabina shrugged as she bit into her hawaiian pizza.
"No way, if you can't impress your father, how are you going to get those riches?"
"I'm not going to ask you if I know how."
Amy sighed, knowing that no matter how happy they were with each other, this person will always want more and would never be satisfied.
"All I really wanted was to eat high on the hog,"
"You're literally doing it right now." Amy deadpanned, not feeling the need to repeat herself.
Sabina was in New York City, she is a famous magazine model, she has appeared on movie screens, she owns a lot of condominiums, four extravagant private jets, and Tesla cars.
And she's absolutely stunning.
"Amy, I get the impression you think happiness costs the same price as red bottom, don't you?"
"A little yes and a little no."
"Mhm, I see." she sipped her frappe, as paparazzi pounced on everyone inside the shop.
"Holy shit, I'm going to call you later." She kissed her friend on the cheek before exiting the coffee shop through the other door.
She waited for her driver outside the building, impatiently.
"Oh Harry, what's taking you so long?" She cursed as she took her phone from her handbag.
Before she could dial his number, a black Maserati pulled up in the parking lot and she instinctively opened the door and went inside.
"Harry what took you so stupid long?" she grumbled as she gazed out the window at the night view of the city that never sleeps.
When she realized there was no Harry inside the vehicle, her eyes widened. Sabina would have died right away if a person's judging looks could kill.
The sphere for her vision met those hickory brown eyes that belongs to a problematic teenager.
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