Just The Girl

Chapter Eight

~Chapter Eight~

The letter came two weeks after I interviewed him.

After the McDonald's incident, he kept avoiding me like I had a contagious disease. I thought it was because I would bombard him with questions about Xander. I would do that, though I never had the chance to.

"Ria," my mom said as I stepped into our house. "There's a letter for you."

"A letter?" I asked. The last time I received a letter was years ago. As far as I knew, people didn't write 'snail-mail' anymore. What were smartphones and computers for?

Mom looked up from the sketchpad on her lap, and she held the pencil in her hand tightly. "Yes."

"Who is it from?" I asked as I hanged my blazer on the coat stand.

She said, "Some kind of organization. Just read it, honey. It's in the kitchen."

Shrugging, I walked to the kitchen.

Of all the rooms in our large house, the kitchen was probably my favorite--second only to my bedroom. The other rooms in the mansion were a bit too big for my taste, but the kitchen, despite also being gigantic, had a homey atmosphere.

I didn't know if it was the aroma of food wafting in the air, or the delicious-looking cookies set on the cooling rack, but to me, it was one of the few places that actually felt like home.

I grabbed a cookie and walked to the table in the middle of the room. As I nibbled it, I ripped the envelope open and started reading what was written on the paper inside it.

A range of emotions crossed my face. My eyes widened, and I managed to smile, but I blinked in surprise as I continued to read it. Camille never told me that I wasn't the only one in school who entered the contest.

Shaking my head but still smiling, I walked to the living room with an extra bounce in my steps.

"I won the contest, Mom!"

She looked up and also smiled. "Really? What's the prize?"

"Well..." I said. "I get to go to this really exclusive one-week camp."

The letter said the only way to join the camp is to win one of their contests. I remembered Camille telling me that the only entries they're accepting were interviews. She probably lied, since the letter said that photographers were also going to the camp.

"When is it?"

I looked at the piece of paper in my hands and said, "Two weeks from now."

"Are you the only one from your school going?" She asked, putting her sketchbook on the glass table.

"I don't think so," I said, sitting next to her.

My mom smiled at me again, and then looked at the gold watch on her wrist. "I'm so sorry, honey, but I have a dinner meeting to go to with your father. I'm sure Liam will be home soon, though."

I forced a smile as I watched her grab a dark blue handbag--one that matched her dress.

"Bye, Mom."

I sighed as I stood up and walked to the staircase. Other people thought that being rich equaled to having a perfect life, but they're wrong. There were a lot of things I would exchange all the money in my bank accounts for--like having both of my parents home every night.

Smile, I told myself. I should be used to that by now. I fished for my phone inside my pocket and dialed my friends' numbers, choosing to focus on the good news.