Winters Academy is home to the sons and daughters of some of the most prestigious families in the world!
The school is known for its excellent academics, award winning drama department, top-notch sports teams, but most importantly..."The Kings"
Knox...
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"Thank you for getting me ice cream, Lala!" Marco smiles as he hugs my leg.
I laugh as I bend down and wipe all the blue ice cream off his tiny mouth.
"You're welcome, mi changuito!"
(my little monkey)
Truth is, I took him out for ice cream because my parents were fighting again.
I just don't like for him to hear those things.
He's young and innocent, I want him to stay pure for as long as possible.
Unlike me.
For as long as I can remember my parents have been fighting over the stupidest shit yet they never get divorced.
Apparently it "looks bad".
It's gotten so bad that both of my parents have cheated on each other multiple times, even having the balls to bring the people they cheated with to our home.
Marco would ask me about it and I'd have to make some bullshit up.
I hate lying to him but he's too young to understand.
No one knows about any of this, mostly because my parents would literally kill me but also because it's fucking embarrassing.
All my friends have amazing and loving families who care so much for them while I'm stuck raising me and my brother.
Luckily Marco is the easiest kid even and he tries to help me out as much as he can.
He's caught me crying a few times and I always make the excuse that I'm stressed about school or something but something tells me he doesn't believe those excuses anymore.
We quietly make our way into the house and I help Marco out of his shoes.
We were about to head up the stairs but froze when we heard a throat clear.
"Where were you two?" My mom asks.
"Lala took me to get ice cream!" Marco says happily.
"Right...we need to talk to you Lola, Marco go up to your room." My dad says.
Marco gives me a worried look but I nod and tell him it's okay.
He quickly scurried off and any appetite I had for my ice cream disappeared.
I follow my parents into the kitchen before taking a seat at one of the bar stools.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"We got a call from one of your teachers, Mrs.Francis. You're failing history." My mom says in a surprisingly calm tone.
Shit.
"I can explain-"
"Oh yes, please fucking explain Lola! We do not pay thousands of dollars every year just for you to be a fucking disappointment!" My dad snaps.
