Arranged Baby

Chapter 1

You cannot copy, translate, or republish this on any other site. I will not grant you permission, and I'm not nice when I find out people take credit for my work. It's illegal to take credit for somebody else's stories, plagiarism is a serious offense and you can get fined. I take my work seriously and work really hard on my story. It takes time to perfect a plot and edit them until I see them fit. If you see anybody copy my work, please notify me, I'm constantly checking my messages, so that's also where you will be able to ask question and/or communicate with me.

Now that I'm done being a serious author, read on my fellow Wattpadians.

Sage's POV

"No, it's no problem, I'll have the payment before next week." My bottom lip quivers once the words come out of my mouth. It's the most obvious lie I have ever spat and it doesn't go unnoticed by the lady working the finance department.

"We have been very patient with your payments. Your health insurance won't cover all of it and your balance has become far too outstanding." I've only heard this from her every time I go and visit him.

"I understand completely. Thank you." She might have hung up before I got to finish my sentence, but I couldn't tell. My thoughts were running a mile a minute since I saw the caller ID. I'm not even sure it's legal for them to call me like that. They probably gave up after the unresponsive emails and the letters in the mail started piling up at my mailbox.

More over time, I think to myself. I'm already working 52 hours a week and it still won't pay the bills. All the money I got for my birthday last week automatically went straight to my fathers bills. I didn't get new school clothes like every other kid in the senior class. Target doesn't pay that much and working a full-time job doesn't really matter when your only parent has never ending hospital expenses. I'm just going to have to work 15 hours shifts on the weekends.

I set my phone down on the night stand and get ready for my shift at Target. My uniform consists of the regular red shirt and khakis with a messy bun and not an ounce of makeup. I've worked there far too long for the employees and even the regular customers to know that I despise make-up. I've restocked the make-up isle too many times to know that $13 for a 3.2 Chap-stick size jar of concealer is definitely not in my budget.

When I pass my fathers room, my heart sinks a little more and my stomach lurches at the lecture I'm going to receive. It has been exactly 20 hours since I last visited him. Once he finds out about me picking up more hours, he's going to get that sorrowful facial expression that says 'sorry.'

I hate it. I love my father, but I hate that he thinks my stress is his fault. We'll have to alter our visiting schedule to accompany my newly required work hours, but I know all the chaos will be worth it when I see him healthy and well again.

Though it's five in the afternoon on a Monday, I plaster on a fake smile and prepare myself for physical and mental exhaustion.

It's the second week of senior year and I already have a project due for two different classes which I have no idea where I am going to find the time to complete them. I knew I should have taken those summer classes to graduate early. But it was a lot easier to work during the summer because I would work all day and that was paying the bills. Now I have 35 hours less to work each week and it is really putting a damper on my almost negative bank account.

I had to drop my shift at Starbucks to at least finish high school so I can attend community college. I don't know if I can even do that. Then I'll really have to find another way to pay my fathers bills. I'm sure they have financial aid and scholarships. They don't have to know that I'm a slight risk for failure. Right?