Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Then again, I wish I could live like this, if even for a day. My own home is very humble – a little too humble, come to think of it. The trailer that my mom and I live in only has one door, and it’s barely still on its hinges. My mom’s various boyfriends have slammed it a few too many times, causing the door to creak and squeal upon the slightest movement.
But it’s not just the dilapidated state of our trailer in general. It’s the fact that my mom is a pack rat. It’s not a pretty picture, trust me. We have so little square footage to begin with, and yet Coralie manages to cram our trailer full of junk, including discarded pots and pans, fake flowers in strange, waxy colors, and newspapers and magazines from decades ago.
I would love to have a cleaning crew to help us clear out the place, but that’s just wishful thinking. My mom is my mom, and she’s got her bad habits. Even if we did get a cleaning crew, the place would just be stacked with stuff to the ceiling after a few days. She’s that bad.
I sigh. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with Coralie for the time being. I don’t make enough to move out, and she doesn’t work. We’re stuck together, living together in a too-tight trailer.
But this house certainly doesn’t have that problem. As I get out of my car, I look to the back and gasp again at the view. The mansion doesn’t have a backyard; it has an entire park. There are acres upon acres of gardens that look like they belong in a magazine. The owner could probably charge people for tours, come to think of it. I’ve seen gardens like this in House Beautiful and Architectural Digest. They always remind me of a fairy tale, or some rich lady who runs arboretums for fun.
A person jumps out of the car next to me. My best friend, Olivia, aka Olly, knocks on my passenger side window.
“Hey, girl! Nice of you to show up.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m fifteen minutes early, Olly.”
She shrugs and grins.
“I was thirty minutes early. I had to sit in my car all this time and wait for you.”
“That’s your fault. I offered to carpool with you…”
“Yeah, but I have to go to my other job after this.”
I sigh.
“I know, Olly.”
My friend’s so-called “other job” is babysitting her younger brother. We could easily carpool, and we have in the past, but I think Olly likes the freedom of driving her own car, even though gas is expensive.
Personally, I wouldn’t mind splitting the cost of gas with someone. It would be one less thing for me to pay for from my meager funds.
I get out of the car and join Olly, two other women, and our manager. There should be five of us with a job this big. But even with all-hands on deck, it’s going to take us all day given the size of this ginormous mansion.
It’s okay though because I like the other ladies, and it’s nice to have Olly on the job with me. Sometimes we talk as we clean, and it makes the time go so much faster. Then again, sometimes we gab so much that I wonder if it’s healthy. There is such a thing as over-sharing, after all.
But we’re used to it because we’ve been best friends since freshman year. Olly had just moved to town, and I recognized the fear on her face. Her jeans were old, and her T-shirt was clearly a hand-me-down from a well-meaning relative.
My own outfit was similar, seeing that I’d picked it up from a tag sale a couple years back. Immediately, I walked over to Olly and introduced myself. She smiled tentatively, then her face brightened, and the rest was history. We’ve been best friends for almost four years now, and I don’t know if I could have survived high school without her.
We haven’t had it easy. Our town and our school are quite wealthy, and Olly and I are clearly the girls from the wrong side of the tracks. But we don’t try to hide it. Why bother? Olly and I aren’t ashamed of our backgrounds. Sure, we want to get out. We want to leave our zip codes, and move somewhere nicer. But that doesn’t mean we’re ashamed. It just means we want more.
“You good?” Olly asks, studying my face.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just lost in thought.”
She cocks her head at me.
“That’s been happening a lot lately. You sure you’re okay?”
“I was just thinking about the day we met.”
Olly laughs.
“It was the best day of my life. You know that my family was running from tragedy then.”
I nod. After all, Olly, her mom, and her younger brother Jacob moved to Millbrook after her father was killed in a mining accident in West Virginia. She was on edge back then, and sometimes, I know she still feels depressed about her dad’s absence.