Eleanor Furness hates being rich. She despises the lavish, old mansions, the materialistic lifestyle, the pompous attitudes, and the careless nature of it all. Even more than that, she hates her father, who was the sole reason she was brought up in...
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𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙔 𝙄𝙉 𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙆
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The television screen hummed, illuminating the dark living room of the Hirsch's home. Greg was settled into a sofa, relaxed in his Green Day hoodie and sweatpants, absentmindedly watching some random reality show playing on the screen. But his mind was somewhere far away from his living room; tonight was his high school's prom, and the senior wanted nothing to do with it. At least that's what he thought, until the phone rang.
"Mom!" He called out, eyeing the telephone sitting on the end table beside him, rattling loudly in his ears. He did not particularly want to speak to any telemarketers this evening. There was no response, so he called out to her again.
"It's right next to you, answer it!" A cranky voice snapped behind a muffled bathroom door. She must be taking a bath.
He sighed with a roll of his eyes, picking it up. "Hello?" He answered lazily.
"Greg." The voice was unfamiliar at first, and it took him a moment to register it as Eleanor's sister. He sat up, now interested. "You need to come over. It's bad. Elly is.... well... she is not great."
He furrowed his brows. "What happened?"
"Jared was a no-show. He was supposed to pick her up like an hour ago but he hasn't even called or messaged her. It's been complete radio silence. She started crying for I don't know how long, but now she's just sitting outside, like some kind of, teary-eyed prom zombie. You gotta get over here."
"I'm on my way."
***
The house of Sandy Furness's home was always quite intimidating to walk into. Above the entrance hung a massive chandelier, and Eleanor remembers being little, standing under it, and imagining what would happen if the chain suddenly snapped. Now, almost an adult, she stood under it, waiting patiently behind the door for a boy who'd never show up, and she imagined the same thing, except this time it was falling on her.
When she realized Jared wasn't coming, she went into the bathroom and cried. And then she went outside and cried some more. Now, drained of all her tears, she sat stoically on one of the pool chairs, gazing at the waterfall. The pool was one of the few places in her dad's house she could actually tolerate. Especially at night, with the ambience of running water and crickets, and the soft glow of porch lights reflecting off the water. She enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere, until her sulking was broken by a noise.
Someone cleared their throat, and she looked up to see Greg, standing by the front of the pool wearing his trademark awkward smile. Eleanor wondered what she must've looked like in that moment. Her makeup she had so tentatively put together was now smudged, the black marks trailing down her damp cheeks. She abandoned her bun at some point and her brunette hair now hung down, uneven strands falling on the sides of her face. The only good part about her appearance was probably the pink, silky dress she wore, a thought that tugged on her heart.
