Cynthia Crawford is an unaccompanied girl, 18 years of age, and in her senior year of high school. She is also the daughter of a multimillionaire who owns one of the biggest companies in the country. She has a few friends, is bullied, and unnoticed...
After a pretty long journey, we came to the house. Actually, a mansion. It was absolutely beautiful.
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I looked at the house in awe. I was holding Michael's hand in one hand, and my bag in another hand. Mr. and Mrs. Hertz said that they would would give us a tour of the house.
"You could leave your bag over there, Cynthia." Mrs. Hertz said.
"Oh, no, Mrs. Hertz, it okay."
"You don't have to call me Mrs. Hertz anymore. You can call me Sabrina. You can too Michael."
"Okay then, Mrs. He- I mean Sabrina."
"No problem. Okay then, first, we will go to the kitchen." Just like the house on the outside, the kitchen was also beautiful.
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It was luxurious, with a T. V, a beautiful matte black refrigerator, and marble counters. It also had gas stoves, the best ones possible. I didn't notice it at first, but there is a Fro-Yo Machine! How cool is that? As I look around the house, I could already see that the furniture was moved in.
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Looking into the living room, I stood there with my mouth wide open. I felt a finger close my mouth.
"Close your mouth. You're going to catch flies." Michael told me.
"What make you think that there are going to be flies in this house?" I asked him.
"First of all, it's a mansion. Second, I don't know? Maybe if you keep the door open too long, you might as well get some bugs into the house. Since it's summer time, there might be mosquitoes coming in. Who knows, maybe you could also catch mosquitoes."
"Ugh, Michael. Stop saying that! The thought of it- you know what? I don't even want to think about it." Right then, I heard snickering from Aiden.
"You just got preschool-ed!" He laughed.
"I'm in first grade," Michael replied.
"I am going to put you down now." I told Michael.
"No, no, no, no, no! Don't put me down!"
"But Michael, my arms hurt. Just walk some time. I will carry you later."
"Here let me help." Aiden said. He held his arms out, and Michael climbed into Aiden's arms.
"Well, that's a relief. Michael, you have to walk more."
"But you carried me because you said that I was too short, and that your hand couldn't reach my hand, unless I tippy-toed."
"Well you are kind of short."
"Look who's talking." Aiden came into the conversation. He came to stand right next to me, to compare height. If I stand next to him, I am about three to four inches above his elbow. Yeah. That makes me pretty short. You could say that he is about a head taller that I am.
"You, are short." Aiden said.
"You don't have to point that out." I said. "Curse my height." I whispered.
"I heard that."
"You weren't supposed to."
"Well I did."
"Be that way."
Aiden is not going to be the husband I thought I would have wanted.
