Chapter Six

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The Collins had invited the parentals and I to the country club, obviously having bonded with my family at the gala. And although I had protested thousands of times, they excepted the invite.

So when I woke up on a Saturday morning, ran myself a bath (leaving the bathroom door open for 'safety reasons') I came to a realisation. I was about to endure a full day of sexual innuendos, probably spewing from my own mouth but still, a semi-attractive boy, his dick personality ruins what could possibly be the most attractive boy I had ever seen, and two mothers watching me like a hawk.

So yeah, this day was going to be a treat!

After drying myself and changing into a white shirt and white tennis skirt, I threw my hair into a high ponytail and headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Hmm, so she can dress herself," my grandmother snorted, biting into her toast.

"Hmm, so you can eat without your fake teeth," I shot back, watching as Maria spooned some fruit salad into a bowl for me. Both my grandmother and mother shot me a glare as I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip of water. "You can't pitch a ball and expect me not to swing,"

"Katie that's enough," my mum spat, standing up and escorting my grandmother out of the room.

I scoffed as I turned to face Maria, a smirk plastered on her face.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. It's just that, if I ever spoke to my grandmother like that, I wouldn't be alive," she chuckled, wiping down the counter.

I suppressed an eye roll and laughed, spooning some fruit salad into my mouth.

I dropped my spoon, "Ow!" I groaned, rubbing my head after my mother gave me a hard smack on the back of my head.

She scowled, "We don't talk to the help," she turned to face Maria, "get to work," I picked up my spoon once again and carried on eating, ignoring Maria's glare.

What was I supposed to do? I was already in enough shit for talking back to my nan, I wasn't going to back Maria up and get myself into more trouble. No. It's every man for himself in the Darlington Household. Besides, how hard could it be, if I couldn't talk to 'the help', the furniture would be good conversationalists and help me escape boredom.

"Enough of the sarcasm Katie, it's not attractive,"

"I said that aloud didn't I? God damn it Katie! Get it together!" I said whilst crossing my eyes and smacking my forehead.

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