considered them near royalty. She’d done the only thing her terrified mind had been able to think to do; run to her brother and bawl all over him.
Jaron however had been beaming with pride when she confessed what she’d done, praising her for “ telling that greasy little player where to shove it .” She smiled now, remembering his proud grin and how she had reveled in it.
“My Baby Girl’s first step toward rebellion. I’m so proud.” She’d rolled her eyes, but secretly soaked in every ounce of that praise. “ Now, let me guess. Mom picked your date, which I’m sure means she picked your dress too, right? Let’s give the ol’ girl a heart attack and show up with a different date and a different dress”
He had winked devilishly and immediately driven her to a store where she bought this sleek purple dress. It was entirely different from what their mother would approve of, and as such it was perfect. Jaron took her as his own date, wearing a black leather jacket, black jeans, and a white t shirt, so as to take the brunt of their mother’s disapproval.
Amiel pulled away from the memory, carefully folding the dress into her duffel. It was stupid, unrealistic, and she doubted it would be on any other teen’s runaway bag list. It took up room, and she was sure she’d never have opportunity to use it wherever she ended up. Yet sentimentality overrode rationality, and the dress stayed where it was in the bag. There was no way she could leave it behind.
Wearing her favorite calf-length black buckle up boots- also a gift from Jaron- over a pair of skinny jeans and a tight white t-shirt, she took one last glance in the mirror. She looked casual, comfortable even. Her grin faded. She looked entirely too suspicious. She could dress as casual as she wanted, but in the end she would still be noticed. You couldn’t be Malinda Hilden’s daughter and not be noticed especially when you were toting a giant duffle bag and skulking around outside of a motorcycle shop. Frowning at her reflection, Amiel fumbled for confidence in her plan. The only way her escape plan would succeed was if she were able to leave without notice. All it would take would be one single phone call, and Malinda would come storming home to lock her away forever.
Amiel tossed on a pair of over sized glasses and pulled her hair back into a bun, only to sigh in frustration. It still wasn’t enough. She riffled through the closet again until she found what she was looking for. The hoodie was a plain light gray sweater, crumpled from its year of neglect, stuffed in a corner of the closet. Her nose wrinkled at it, trying to remember which of the potential suitors her mother had handpicked for her had decided Amiel needed an oversized reminder of him. Fred, Phil…Rick? Amiel shook her head and stuffed the hoodie over her head. Malinda had forced Amiel to keep every gift her dates gave her, though most ended up in a box stuffed in the far corner of her closet. Flipping the hood up over her head, Amiel examined her makeshift disguise. The baggy sweater masked most of her feminine features, and the hood worked well with the glasses to cover her face. For once Amiel was glad of Malinda’s overbearing tendencies.
A thrill coursed up her spine as she scheduled a taxi, covertly arranging to meet it at an address two blocks away from her own, allowing herself enough time to sneak out of the house and get there before the taxi could pinpoint her real origin of residence. It was sophomoric in the eyes of what many rebellious teenagers her age did, yet Amiel couldn’t help the grin of mischief and excitement as she slipped out of her bedroom door.
Flinging the duffel over her head so that it was situated comfortably across her back, Amiel nervously made her way through the house. She avoided servants throughout the house on her way to the back garden doors feeling rather pleased with her ninja-like evasion skills. Until someone cleared their throat from
Jaron however had been beaming with pride when she confessed what she’d done, praising her for “ telling that greasy little player where to shove it .” She smiled now, remembering his proud grin and how she had reveled in it.
“My Baby Girl’s first step toward rebellion. I’m so proud.” She’d rolled her eyes, but secretly soaked in every ounce of that praise. “ Now, let me guess. Mom picked your date, which I’m sure means she picked your dress too, right? Let’s give the ol’ girl a heart attack and show up with a different date and a different dress”
He had winked devilishly and immediately driven her to a store where she bought this sleek purple dress. It was entirely different from what their mother would approve of, and as such it was perfect. Jaron took her as his own date, wearing a black leather jacket, black jeans, and a white t shirt, so as to take the brunt of their mother’s disapproval.
Amiel pulled away from the memory, carefully folding the dress into her duffel. It was stupid, unrealistic, and she doubted it would be on any other teen’s runaway bag list. It took up room, and she was sure she’d never have opportunity to use it wherever she ended up. Yet sentimentality overrode rationality, and the dress stayed where it was in the bag. There was no way she could leave it behind.
Wearing her favorite calf-length black buckle up boots- also a gift from Jaron- over a pair of skinny jeans and a tight white t-shirt, she took one last glance in the mirror. She looked casual, comfortable even. Her grin faded. She looked entirely too suspicious. She could dress as casual as she wanted, but in the end she would still be noticed. You couldn’t be Malinda Hilden’s daughter and not be noticed especially when you were toting a giant duffle bag and skulking around outside of a motorcycle shop. Frowning at her reflection, Amiel fumbled for confidence in her plan. The only way her escape plan would succeed was if she were able to leave without notice. All it would take would be one single phone call, and Malinda would come storming home to lock her away forever.
Amiel tossed on a pair of over sized glasses and pulled her hair back into a bun, only to sigh in frustration. It still wasn’t enough. She riffled through the closet again until she found what she was looking for. The hoodie was a plain light gray sweater, crumpled from its year of neglect, stuffed in a corner of the closet. Her nose wrinkled at it, trying to remember which of the potential suitors her mother had handpicked for her had decided Amiel needed an oversized reminder of him. Fred, Phil…Rick? Amiel shook her head and stuffed the hoodie over her head. Malinda had forced Amiel to keep every gift her dates gave her, though most ended up in a box stuffed in the far corner of her closet. Flipping the hood up over her head, Amiel examined her makeshift disguise. The baggy sweater masked most of her feminine features, and the hood worked well with the glasses to cover her face. For once Amiel was glad of Malinda’s overbearing tendencies.
A thrill coursed up her spine as she scheduled a taxi, covertly arranging to meet it at an address two blocks away from her own, allowing herself enough time to sneak out of the house and get there before the taxi could pinpoint her real origin of residence. It was sophomoric in the eyes of what many rebellious teenagers her age did, yet Amiel couldn’t help the grin of mischief and excitement as she slipped out of her bedroom door.
Flinging the duffel over her head so that it was situated comfortably across her back, Amiel nervously made her way through the house. She avoided servants throughout the house on her way to the back garden doors feeling rather pleased with her ninja-like evasion skills. Until someone cleared their throat from
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