15. French Fry
"Well?" I asked Shannon through FaceTime, smoothening the bottom of my dress.
Today was the stupid brunch I was being forced to go to and so I had to put on a stupid dress and put a stupid smile on my face. And on top of it all it was one of those stupid days where I felt ugly in every stupid thing I wore.
Today was stupid.
"Turn around," she said.
I gave her a three sixty, waiting for her comments after.
"Hmm," she observed. "Hmmmmmm..."
"Okay Shan, I don't have all day," I interrupted.
She laughed. "I'm teasing, you look amazing. This is definitely the one."
I looked at myself again in my mirror and sighed. "I look like a potato."
"Honey, you better not be putting yourself down or I will jump out of your screen and slap your senses back into you," Shan told me.
I chuckled. "Well sorry if I offended you."
She rolled her eyes. "Morgan, you're not a potato. You're a french fry."
I rose an eyebrow. "A french fry?"
"Yes, a french fry. A fucking tasty, sizzling hot french fry that everyone wants a bite off, not a sad boring potato," she said.
I laughed. "You're so sweet."
"Now say it with me girl," she ordered. "I am a french fry!"
I rolled my eyes, smiling. "I am a french fry."
"Like you mean it," she told me.
I laughed and said it more confidently. "I am a french fry!"
"That's right, a fucking french fry," she laughed.
She was really the best hype woman.
Then I heard my mom yell my name.
I sighed. "Gotta go Shannon, I'll talk to you later. Love you."
"Love you more," she said. "And remember, french fry!"
"Yes ma'am," I laughed and then ended the call.
I slipped on a shiny pair of silver heels and looked at myself one more time.
"French fry."
That was probably going to be my daily mantra now.
I took my phone and left my room, walking down the hall. Jean was coming out of hers as well.
"Hola gorgeous," I remarked, taking in her beautiful blue jumpsuit. Her straightened hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail.
She shut her door gently and smiled at me. "Hello beautiful, you know you always look amazing, but black, really?"
I nodded. "It's an extension of my soul today."
She chuckled. "Hold on."
She re-entered her room and I waited outside for a couple of seconds before she returned, a silver clutch purse in her hand.
"Here." She handed it to me.
"Really?" I asked.
She shrugged. "What? It's cute. Plus it matches your shoes and you won't look so morbid."
I laughed softly, accepting it and dropping my phone inside.
"Girls!" mom yelled.
"Let's go before we unleash the monster," Jean joked, linking her arm in mine.
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Once Upon A Bus Ride
Teen FictionMorgan Hall is your average teenager. That is if you consider having a billionaire CEO of a world renowned company as a dad and a fashion designer of one of the most famous lines in the world as a mother average. Let's not leave out her singer/actre...