I hate girls like her the most. Rich-y, bitchy, blonde and beautiful. Not a single flaw that surrounded her physical appearance. Promoted by her hair, that was the physical ray of light that you could touch without being burned. A true walking miracle on the planet. It was like the Sun King, Louis himself would come down choose this girl to become the next Marie Antoinette. Ironically the most hated woman in all of France. The two even shared a name starting with Marie! The power of the name must be true, because the two shared similar personalities that let the people starve and drink dirty wine, the same wine that was running through their veins. Immature.
Nevertheless, all the garcons at our lycee didn't need a second thought to dream up relations with her. After one left another took his place. Every guy wants a chance - but there was always an exception. "Pourquoi tu ne veux te couche avec la fille?" Why don't you want to sleep with the girl? Was all my friends pestered me about. But nothing ever could make me want to lay a finger on her. Her golden hair was worth less that dirt to me, something priceless that had turned out to be fake jewelry, and the gypsy I had bargained with ran away. If there was no intelligence or kindness, there was no price.
I felt bad for her parents, because they molded her to become an object that had no sympathy for the poor. Just imagining the fit she would throw if she didn't receive the latest designer bag made me want to cringe. Not that I knew what it felt like to be poor. My father work at foreign consulate in Paris. It's not that small of an amount that my family receives everyday. The lycee that we both attend to is a private academy that happened to have all the former presidents' children attend.
It was outside in the court yard when I decided to spend my free time alone. I slowly walked around and engaged myself into the surroundings of trees.
"Luc," a fellow classmate had come and gotten me, ending my meditation. "Someone wants to see you at the willow tree."
A feeling of misery appeared in my body, it was the one place that I never went to anymore. But my feet and legs decided on their own that it was a good idea to run to the willow.
"Salut." I am greeted by her voice.
"Salut." I dig my toe into the ground averting my gaze.
"Luc, I want to say something," I caught her smile from the corner of my eye. "I know you don't want to hear it but-"
"Non."
"You don't know what I'm going to say!" She defends herself.
"I used to know everything."
She paused.
"You don't love me anymore?" She began to whimper.
"How can I?"
Suddenly Marie began cackling. "AHH you idiot."
"Marie, pain doesn't make you a idiot."
YOU ARE READING
French Gold
Romancehate girls like her the most. Rich-y, bitchy, blonde and beautiful. Not a single flaw that surrounded her physical appearance. Promoted by her hair, that was the physical ray of light that you could touch without being burned. A true walking miracle...