Hot Mess | N.H. (discontinued)

t h r e e [ 3 ]

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Hot Mess:
c h a p t e r  :  t h r e e  [ 3 ]

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"That is the biggest form of bullying ever, the paparazzi. Printing lies, making accusations, it's just bullying." -Mila Kunis

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Emery

"You're leaving for Ireland?"

I grab the stack of shirts set beside my suitcase and set them in it with a sigh. "Yeah," I respond bluntly, not really wanting to talk about that particular subject.

"Why?" Cassie presses on, and I let out another sigh, but this time an annoying sigh rather than a depressing one. For half an hour so far, my little sister has been pestering me with questions on my sudden foreign departure halfway across the world. The topic of me being shipped off to Ireland—where the People magazine team had located Niall Horan unexpectedly, just as Ms. Walker had instructed—hadn't left the table since five o'clock. And by the looks of it, this conversation won't be over soon.

"It's complicated, Cas," I reply in a serious tone. "You wouldn't understand." I head to my closet and start grabbing random clothing; I'm not exactly familiar with the weather in Ireland.

Cassie is quiet before blurting out, "that bitch of a boss is making you go isn't she? She can't make you do that!"

"Cassie!" I hiss, spinning around and giving her a pointed look, earning a roll from her hazel eyes. "Watch your language. You're only thirteen, for crying out loud!" I roll my eyes back. "And, by the way, it's an internship—not actual work yet."

"Which is a reason why she isn't allowed to make you go halfway across the world," she says.

"Yes, she can, Cassie. She's my boss, even if it is just an internship—that could possibly lead to a formal job. Another reason why I need to go."

"What was the first reason?" Cassie asks curiously, leaning forward on my bed.

I ponder this. What was my first reason to agree to this mess? Well, actually, she didn't really give me a choice. It was more of a force than an option. And, even if I did have a say in the decision, why would I agree?

"I want a better job," I reply, a hint of uncertainty in my voice.

"Why would you ditch a place like that? I mean, you get to gossip for a whole day and get paid at the same time, too!" she exclaims. I laugh at her excitement and place some shoes in my almost-full and soon-to-be over-packed suitcase.

"That's exactly the problem, Cas," I reply easily with a shrug of my shoulders. She gives me a confused look, but doesn't push the subject any further.

A string of three knocks sounds at the front door downstairs and Cassie immediately shoots up out of her seat to get it. But before she can even make it out my bedroom door, the sound of a door opening is already heard around and an all-to-familiar voice is the first thing I hear.

"I'm here!" the voice says. There's the sound of feet shuffling up the stairs before a girl with her face stuffed into a cupcake emerges into my room.

"Half an hour later," I finish with a mumble, shooting her an annoyed look as I rest my hands on my hips.

"Sorry, mom was baking and I didn't want to miss this chance of a lifetime to actually eat some freshly baked goods rather than smell them the whole ride over to a middle school bake sale," Quinn says over-dramatically in one breathe, rolling her eyes. I roll my eyes, too, at my best friend's immatureness. She's always had this sense of child play in her that she never seemed to outgrow, which I'm happy that she didn't; she's always one to make things more fun.