Rich Girl [ON HOLD]

Rich Girl - Chapter 2

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 *Eight Years Later *  

   “Miranda!” Spoke my mother in a sweet hushed tone, making even waking up sound wonderful. I suppose that’s where I inherited my faint singing voice from. “You need to wake up.” Tiredly, I rolled onto my back and stared at my newly painted ceiling. My old pinks of my younger years were coated over with a crystal white. All of the walls were covered in a deep purple that makes you feel like royalty. I was royalty after all.

“What mom?” I huffed in annoyance. As soothing as my mother made the morning seem, I still loved my sleep.

“You have to wake up, dear.” She gave me a look of guilt which I chose to ignore.

“Whatever,” Pausing, I let reality sink in. “What are you doing in my room?”

No one was ever aloud in here. Only Ms. Jana was allowed to come in for a quick clean up. Even then I gave her a hard time, but cleaning my room myself didn’t sound too appealing.Justin used to come in my room when we were little. He had a secret obsession with my plastic dolls. Sometimes, I felt he took better care of them when I did. When we played with Phoebe, our doll, she would be our baby. Of course, then, we refused to think that this made us married, so we pretended it was a coincidence she belonged to the both of us.

My favorite part about playing house with him was when we sent our “child” to bed. I would rock Phoebe in my arms with such grace and care, almost as if it was a real baby. As I watched her glass blue eyes cover with a mechanical eyelid, I would hesitantly put her in the plastic crib. Then, I would state that I was heading downstairs to get sandwiches, but I never did.

Secretly, behind my glittered wooden door, I would listen to Justin sing lullabies to our baby girl. Note after note, I would be sent into a trance. Not even my mother’s nightly songs could melt me the way his hums did. Usually, there would be no words, only soft melodies of nothing but the sweetest tones in the world.

Then, when his song came to a quick finish I would go downstairs and pressure Ms. Janna, who was at the time also the cook, to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as soon as possible. Once I had the heavy plate in my hands, I would bring them up to my room to share with Justin. He would always get the one with no crust and extra jelly, just like he loved it.

One day, as we sticky our mouths, I built up the courage to ask him the question that’s been taunting me for years.

“You’ve never sang in front of me. Why?” He blushed at my question and then glanced his lizard green eyes into mine.

“’Cause I’m shy…” Justin trailed off, making me scoff.

“No,” My small lips shaped into a distinct ‘o’.

”You sing on TV and on CD’s, why not me?”

“’Cause you’re pretty.” A faint pink tint came to his cheeks and I noticed it, but didn’t take it to heart.

“Thanks.” Was all I said. This was the first time a boy had complimented me.

Sure, I received compliments every minute of the day, but this was from a boy. A boy who I had a faint crush on, but never acknowledged it until we grew apart.

It was sad sometimes to think how our tight bond slowly drifted away into different directions. Justin was now a singer, a beloved singer. Girls would throw themselves at him, break into his house, and strictly ear broccoli if he said it was his favorite.