Paris and Eudora grew up in the home of the CEO of Jameson Inc and his wife, who were also known as their parents.
Although their parents were around, Eudora and Paris were raised by maids or butlers that would help them learn, whether it be academi...
I stared at the sky as I layed on the pile of scrap. My eyes followed clouds and would occasionally look at the sun.
I had been lying here for about an hour while Paris was on the phone with Jenise, one of the maids at the mansion. I heard footsteps and looked above me, seeing an upside down Paris walking my way.
"What was that conversation about?" I asked, sitting up and facing her.
"Some. . . arrangement? Or something," she said, sliding onto the scrap to sit beside me. "We'll probably be privileged to the explanation when we get home."
I laughed, laying back once again. She copied. "Any ideas how to get out of it?" I ask, looking at her.
"We haven't heard what the arrangement is yet, but probably just saying we've got a school project or something?" I nod, looking at the sky.
"That looks like a turtle," I say, pointing at the sky and looking at Paris, seeing her look at me like I was crazy.
"You mean tortle," she corrected, making us laugh after a moment.
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For five hours, and long into the night, we stayed at the junkyard, joking and laughing. At one o'clock in the morning, we finally decided to go home.
That's why Paris and I sat on one of the couches in the family room, watching our parents whisper to each other. Occasionally they'd spare us a glance, but no talking was going on at the moment.
"Hello, you know you called us back home to tell us about an arrangement, right?" Paris, as always, was the first to speak up. Our mother looked at her, shaking her head before looking back at our father.
"And the whispering continues," I speak, looking at Paris before starting to stand up. "Let's go find someone else who knows what's happening." Paris stood up, starting to follow me before our father spoke up.
"The two of you are," he started, "are getting married. . . to the Prescotts' sons."
Our eyes went wide and mouths opened in shock.
"That's sick!" Paris exclaimed after recovering. I recovered and nodded.
"It's the only way," our mother said, acting sad and like she wasn't in control of this whole thing.
"No way it's the only way," I speak, glaring at our mother, as our father shook his head beside her before they continued to whisper again.
"Stop hiding crap!" Paris and I exclaimed at the same time; I glared at the couple in front of us, only imagining Paris was doing the same since I couldn't see her.
Now they were shocked, probably not believing their daughters just yelled at them. At the moment, it took everything I had to not laugh at their faces.
Our father cracked first, opening his mouth to speak, but to no avail, and instead stayed silent.
Mother looked at us, tilting her head slightly before speaking. "This Saturday there will be a ball at the Prescotts'. At the end they will announce the engagement, and the two of you will be standing in that crowd, watching him and seeing your future ahead of you without complications," she ordered, not caring whether we liked the idea or not.
Instead of giving her the satisfaction of a fight, I turned around, grabbing Paris's arm and walking to the foyer, where the stairs resided.
And, instead of going upstairs to our rooms, I dragged her to the door attached to the stairs, that led to the library. Our hideout in our wonderful home.
Paris got out of my grip and walked over to the window seat, sitting before resting her head against the window. I walked over and sat Indian style in front of her.
"How long do you think it'll be before the wedding's planned and we're married?"
"I don't know, Eudora, but this is total crap," Paris said, "we're only seventeen." I nodded, leaning back against the wall and looking around the library.
"What's worse is that they don't even look half-decent," I said, hoping to humor Paris some. She smiled and shook her head as she lifted it from the window and looked at me.
"You're such a weirdo," she said, leaning against the wall on her side.
"Maybe we can just sneak in halfway or three quarters through the ball," I say, "then we won't have to suffer!"
"The suffering is just beginning," she said as she stood up and walked across the room. I watched her before looking out the window myself.
Down below the hill our house reside on, people walked and talked and were normal. Just normal. Not rich, not powered, not the daughter of a CEO and definitely not engaged to the family rival's son.
A normal life would've been so much freaking easier.
