Ficly

Ah, Parents

My three inch heels click as I walk away from Gabe’s window on the side of his house. I parked a slight ways away from the house so his parents wouldn’t get suspicious. I have been over here often enough to know how his parents think. They were the typical stick-in-the-mud religious types who were as strict as heck on kids. They had no sense of what it meant to let their children run free and learn on their own.

My parents, luckily, were the opposite. They couldn’t give a crap about where I was or what I was doing. As long as I stayed out of the press, unless of course they are raving about how fabulous I am, I keep Daddy pleased. And of course, if Daddy is pleased then everyone is pleased.

I slip behind the wheel of my new car and quickly look at the rear veiw mirror. I run my fingers through my hair to put extra bounce in it and pinch my cheeks for a hint of color. As I am touching up my lip gloss my passenger door opens and my best friend slides in.

“Ready?” I ask, dropping my gloss into my Coach purse.

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