With a sudden jolt I woke up. My sheets were tangled around my legs and I felt like I'd just run a marathon. There was sweat dripping down my face and my hair was matted on my forehead.
It was all a dream, I told myself, none of that really happened. I kept repeating it to myself until I actually started to believe it.
I heard a faint knock at the door and looked up.
"Knock knock," said Lawrence.
He's the butler for my family, and has been for about twenty years. Sure he's the same guy he was before, but he's aged. His head is bare not counting the little white hairs that barely show. And just by looking at his face you can tell he's had some rough years. The wrinkles on his face and the way he forgets things easily practically give away his age.
When I was little I was afraid of him. To a five or even eight year old he looks pretty creepy. But I finally grew up and realized it was a mistake. He's just like any other elderly man but he's not married. And never has been for that matter. I don't even think I've seen him with a woman. I really do feel bad for his loneliness, but he seems happy doing what he does for my family. This includes cooking food-breakfast, lunch, and dinner-and driving us around whenever we need it.
"Hi Lawrence," I said.
"Good morning Miss Faris. Would you like breakfast?"
"I'm starving."
"I'm taking that as a yes?" He raised an eyebrow.
I nodded.
He set a small table on my lap. It had a plate in the middle with waffles and a chunk of butter on top.
I shoveled the waffles down, and then washed them down with a cold glass of orange juice.
"Your mother would like for you to join her when you're finished eating. Just leave it on the ground and I'll pick it up later," he informed me.
"Are you sure? I can bring it down," I offered.
"This is my job isn't it?"
"Yea I guess."
"Just leave it when you're finished," he repeated.
"Okay. Thank you." I warmly smiled at him.
He left and I padded to my closet, deciding on what I was going to wear for school. Opening the doors, I walked in and looked side to side. Not to sounds like I'm bragging or anything, but my closet it bigger than most peoples. It's the size of a one car garage, and it's filled with designer clothes, shoes, purses, and jewelry.
After twenty minutes, I finally decided on a pair of True Religion Jeans and a navy blue Ralph Lauren polo.
I made my way down the marble stairs, looking at the house i've lived in for so long. I grew up here having late night sleepovers, huge parties for my birthday, and parties for my dad's company.
All our parties always have more than 100 people. Because I invite the whole school for my parties and my dad invites his employees from his company.
He and my mom own a huge- I mean huge- five star hotel. It's considered one of the best in the world and it brings in people all over the world. I could literally name one hundred things that are amazing about the hotel, but I won't because I'm not the type who brags about things like "Daddy's business". So to make the story quick, our family owns a hotel that makes our family lots and lots of money. And because of this, we're also filthy rich, but I'm sure you could have figured that out by yourself.
When I made it to the foot of the stairs I called out to my mom.
"In the kitchen," I heard her voice answer.
I walked to the kitchen and sat down at the table staring at the tiled floor rather than at my mom.
"Victoria," she said calmly, "your father and I are going to California to a new store opening. They want us to be there and," she shrugged her shoulders," how can we possibly say no?"
I sighed.
Of course they were leaving. Half of my life my parents were never there for me. It's sad. But I'm not trying to give you a sob story right now so I won't go into any more details.
"Lawrence will be here and if you-,"she started to say.
"-and if I need anything just tell him," I interrupted.
I looked up and she gave me a little smile that made her face glow.
Her big hazel eyes were fixed on me, watching my every move. And her thick long brown hair was piled up in a tight ponytail-the kind that gives you headaches after a while- high on her head. My mother was a model when she was younger but then she met my dad and had me, so she stopped. She's forty-six but she looks like she's in her early thirties. Some people even think we're sisters! It's so annoying hearing them tell me, a seventeen year old, that I look like my mom, who's in her forties.
"When are you leaving?" I asked
"Today."
"Oh. Okay," I said faintly.
"Is something wrong?"
"No!" I snapped.
She looked at me as if trying to figure out what had just happened.
"Sorry. It has nothing to do with you." I lied.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked sweetly.
I laughed. My mom was always the one to try and solved everybody's problems.
"No, its fine," I assured her.
She gave me the same look she's given me about 5 seconds ago.
"Mom, I mean it. I'm fine."
"Okay. Whatever you say," she said unconvincingly
.
"I'm late for school. See you when you get back on-"My voice carried off as I waited for a response.
"Monday, I think." She thought stopped to think for a minute and then continued to talk. "That's a week from today right? What's today?"
"Monday," I said.
"Well then yes, Monday I think."
I rolled my eyes at her. One of the things my mom is not good at is organization.
"Yea. All right then." I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and walked in the opposite direction.
"Bye sweetie!" she yelled, as I walked away.
I didn't bother turning around so I waved my hand behind my head. I grabbed my Coach purse off the table next to the front door and then I opened the door. The smell of the beach hit me but I didn't gag in disgust. When you're born and raised in Palm Beach, Florida, you get used to the smell. I have and call me crazy, but it's one of my favorite smells. It promises another warm and beautiful day.
I squinted my eyes when the sun hit my face, but I snatched my Chanel sunglasses out of my purse and put them on before I went blind.
© 2010 theamazingspiderman
