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Chapter 2

ANGEL SINCLAIR.

The bell rings ending the first two classes and I leave the classroom with Ashley going straight to the cafeteria. The first thing she notices about me is my heels, of course.

"Heels?" she asks, laughing immediately afterwards, "I think a miracle happened. You wore sneakers".

"Yeah. I decided to change it up a bit today," I reply, looking as bored as I can.

"Angel, what's going on?" she asks, touching my arm just after I grab a tray of food.

"It's a long story, girlfriend. Let's sit down and I'll tell you all about it," she nods and lets go of my arm.

Ashley takes her food and we look for a more private place here, which is almost impossible since I have to smile and talk to everyone where I can. This is the downside of popularity. You can't have privacy anywhere.

"Yeah, I think this is fine," she says as soon as we sit down, "Can you tell me now what's going on?

"Remember I told you that my dad has a girlfriend outside?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, now he's bringing her to live with us.

"What? Has your father gone crazy?" she asks, having the same astonished reaction as my grandparents.

"I think so, girlfriend. And you know what's worse about all this?", Ashley arches her eyebrow, "It's that my stepmom's sweetheart's son is coming too," she widens her eyes. "And it will be tonight."

"Oh no, Angel, this can't be happening. How far will your father go because of women, man?".

"Don't ask me I don't know," I sigh, "You know, sometimes I just wish I could disappear off the map and not look my dad in the face ever again!".

"Look, regardless of anything, you can't let up. You stay in your home, because it's rightfully yours, too. Your father should have consulted you before making any decisions."

"Yeah, but he didn't even consider it. After that woman, it looks like Dad's gone crazy. Between me and her, he doesn't think twice about choosing her."

"Don't exaggerate either, girlfriend. Your father is crazy about you," Ashley tries to console me by stroking my hair, but I disagree by nodding my head. There's not much you can do.

At the same instant Ashley says this, my cell phone vibrates. It is a message from Grandma Florence saying that she has talked to my father, but that nothing has been resolved and that he will not go back. I huff and lower my head, totally ignoring the food because it has made me even lose my hunger.


As soon as I get home, I park my car angrily because the moving truck ended up getting in my way as I drove in. Walking down the hallway to my room, I see that it is full of suitcases. Big suitcases, huge enough to not even let me through.

"What the fuck?", I yell, kicking one of the suitcases with my heel, "Margareth!", I yell, calling out to her.

Margareth comes up to me in a matter of seconds and looks at me in astonishment, while I am red with anger.

"Miss, what happened?"

"What are all these bags doing here? Am I not even going to be able to go into my room anymore? Hell," I kick another suitcase again.

"Calm down, I'll ask the movers to clear out the suitcases, okay?

"And why are they all here? Who is going to stay in this hallway?", I ask, still indignant at the situation.

"Mrs. Madison's son will be staying in this room here," Margaret points to the room across from mine.

"What? This filth I don't even know is going to stay in the same hall of rooms as me? Daddy is really going crazy, isn't he, Margaret? How can he do such a thing?".

"Miss, let me call the movers. He will clear the hallway and you will be able to go to your room."

"Please do that, Margaret. And if you see my father, tell him I'm not going to this fucking dinner dead!".


At eight o'clock sharp, I hear my father knocking at the door. I play deaf and turn up the volume of my headphones even louder, but take them off when I hear him knock even louder and call me in a low tone.

I get out of bed huffing and open the bedroom door. My hair is probably messed up and my sleepy face is quite visible, since I have been asleep all afternoon and just woke up a little while ago.

"I told you to be ready by eight," he says, holding back from probably scolding me.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to that dinner."

"Angeline, I don't care if you want to go or not, because I already know the answer. What I am saying is that you are going with us, I am not speaking Greek."

"I'm a polyglot, Dad. If even that you have forgotten, haven't you?" I say, being totally ironic.

"No funny business. You have ten minutes to get ready.

"If you want me to go, I'll have to go like this," I say, turning around.

"For God's sake, Angeline! You didn't even take off your school uniform."

That was the intention. I don't want them to think I've spent hours getting ready for them, because I don't give a shit.

"Do you want me to go or not?" I ask, giving a sideways smile.

"Run a comb through that hair and come down. I'm not going to talk twice," he says finally, fixing his jacket and walking angrily out of the hallway.

I close the bedroom door and fix my hair. I put on my heels and make the skirt of my school uniform even shorter. I unbutton a few buttons on my shirt and throw all my hair forward. I leave the room without at least swiping something in my mouth. They don't deserve a spray of even my cheapest French perfume.

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