New York, the big apple of my heart

New York, the big apple of my heart: Chapter 8

"Will you call me back, Leo?" I couldn't help asking.

I was in PARADISE. Litterally. It's like I was floating in the air, I was happier than ever. I had never been that happy since the divorce of my parents.

"Sure I will." Leo said.

I was at the door of our apartment. We had come back from the square hand in hand, like those "in love" couples (Lizzie and Nicholas, for example) that walk around doing nothing, except looking at each other like they didn't believe that they could finally be in love in peace (like Romeo and Juliet, for example.)

"Looking forward to your call."

Mom, hearing our voices, came to open the door.

"Thank goodness, Emily Sophie Miller, that you are back. What the hell was wrong with you? Running away from home!?" she yelled, really upset (yay, I was really going to have a good Saturday!). "Good thing is that that charming gentleman found you!"  she continued, smiling at Leo, who seemed pretty amused by the yelling of my mother.

On my way to my bedroom to unpack the things I had taken from my exciting sleepover, the yelling continued on and on. But I didn't care. I was, like I said before, like floating in the air of happiness, singing nice little songs, while my mom was telling me all the things she had been trough that morning.

"Mom, breathe, calm down. It's no big deal. I went out to get some air and fell asleep on the grass. I'm not a baby anymore as you can see. I know my way out of the square."

"It's no big deal young girl? What would have happened if you had been kidnapped for example? Would you have know your way out of a crappy building with really scary men whose goals are to take your kidneys or some other organs to sale them and then abandon your body or a shitty road? In addition to that, I took a look at your clothes. Do you ever go shopping?"

Gosh, Mom. Always jump from subject to subject.

"Not interested in those really expensive designers' clothes, Mom. I don't want to be a Lauren Moffat."

"Just shut up, Emily. Really, from where do you buy all of these old-fashioned clothes? From an antique shop maybe? Although you don't really deserve it, I brought you these."

The "these" were a skirt, a short, low-cut T shirt and a pair of high heels.

"No way. Mom. You are gonna return these right now."

"Honey! They're the dream of every teenage girl."

"Not mine. Who the damn hell told you that? Some kind of perv?"

"No. A very nice woman actually I met at the mall. Nelly Moffat."

Nelly Moffat. Lauren's mom. Seriously, Mom, you couldn't meet another woman?

"Try them on. PLEASE! It would mean realy much to me. And you owe me a huge one."

"Fine."

I tried them on. And surprizingly, they fit me really well. I looked like some kind of top model in this outfit. I didn't feel that uncomfortable at all. I wonder what people would say if I wore that at school.