Kritter
The one and only...
No one paid attention in History class. Muffled conversations and muted giggles riddled the room behind the teacher's back. Mallorie dragged her pencil over a piece of lined paper, doodling T-shirts ideas. She yawned, glancing sideways at Jada, who was staring at the clock.
Jada caught her eyes and shook her head. "I don't give two shits about the Great Depression," she whispered, slinking low in her chair and folding her arms in disgust.
Mallorie smiled. After having not spoken for several weeks, she saw Jada's comment as an opening; a hand re-extended in friendship. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "What kind of tickets did you get for the concert? Are they any good?"
"They're in the last row on the floor." Jada turned her body to face Mallorie, resting her arm across the back of her chair. "But that's a lot of bullshit. There was only twenty people ahead of us in line. We counted."
"They probably had a ton of online sales."
"Yeah, maybe." Jada shrugged. "Why weren't you at Football game yesterday?"
"I was grounded the whole week," she whispered, glancing at the trumpet case beside her friend's feet. "Are you really learning to play that thing?"
"Yeah, starting to. Did that girl Brooke leave?"
"Yeah, she's back in New Jersey."
"So then...what have you been doing?" Jada questioned.
"Nothing. But I'm making a little money." Mallorie grinned, reaching in her pocket and pulling out two $20 bills. She waved them seductively in front of her friend. "You wanna go grab a bite after school?"
"You're buying?"
"Yeah." Mallorie gave her a cocky grin. While her business wasn't making her rich, their sales were steadily rising, and she was thinking of adding more shirts to their line and tying each one to a cause. It seemed to work with their company name, Chariot, which Armando had chosen for the competition. "Hey," she added, you know those photos...the ones in his case." She gestured towards the trumpet.
"Of his wife and stuff? You want them?"
"Please." Mallorie waited patiently for Jada to remove them from the lining, and then she tucked the envelope safely between her books. "Thanks. The monument is being built. I went over the other day to see it."
"How's it looks?" Jada asked.
"It looks amazing," Mallorie said. She had marveled at the statue's life-sized framework and the way the three working women it featured seemed to be in motion. Soon at would be cast in bronze and set beside the harbor, forever capturing the pride and strength that emanated from their faces. Class finally ended with a bell ring. She stood, gathering her things together, and then touched Jada on the shoulder. "You think we can be friends again?" she asked sincerely. "I really miss hanging out with you."
"Yeah, sure." Jada shrugged, immediately starting to ramble on about her entire night of camping out for tickets.
---
October rushed in with money. It rained down on Mallorie like the golden leaves that littered Central Park, filling up her bank account with large daily deposits. Armando had invested their profits wisely, choosing smart advertising options, and he'd gotten them three interviews with teen magazines, talking about their project. He was as savvy as he was ambitious, and his drive to succeed amazed her. At least three nights a week they'd be on the phone together, discussing the state of their finances and strategizing their next move, although with school they both had little time to meet.
But the money made it worth it. Mallorie twirled in front of the bathroom mirror by the Wellington's service door, admiring her dress and shoes. She lifted her hair and shook her head, watching her new earrings sparkle. "So where should we go?" she asked her mother, excited to treat her to dinner.
"Angelo's," Valeria said. "I'm dying for some pizza. I'll just be a few more minutes."
Mallorie smiled, following her out into the kitchen. It was the evening of the hotel's costume ball, and her mother was staying late to help set up. She peered into the spacious room, trying to imagine it full of beautiful masked people, and then she crossed the kitchen and glanced out into the hotel's dining area. Her eyes widened in surprise behind the door's little glass window.
Katherine Durham was seated sideways at a table in a short, sequined dress, one long leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her face was the creamy beige of morning with a dusting of rose blush, and her long blonde hair hung in voluminous curls. She was seated with a young man, although Mallorie couldn't see him. She edged through the door and moved across the room, trying to get a better angle.
"It was amazing." The young man hands excitedly recreated his actions while he spoke. "It was a perfect reverse pass, and he dunked it right in."
"Well, I'm proud of you." Katherine smiled, her heavily-ringed fingers wrapped gracefully around a glass. "Hopefully next time, your father and I can come."
Mallorie's head tilted with curiosity. It was their middle son, Richard, who she knew went to college, although she wasn't sure where. She took a seat at a table in the corner, hoping to remain inconspicuous, although she imagined Katherine wouldn't remember her just from a minute in the elevator. The two of them continued to have a lively conversation. Richard said something funny and his mother threw back her head, joining him in uproarious laughter. Then suddenly they both grew silent. Richard stood up post straight and extended his hand while Katherine quickly downed the contents of her glass.
Mallorie's eyes scanned in the direction of his greeting and then gasped, lowering her head. It was Matthew Durham, joining them at their table. She picked up the menu the waiter had left and ducked her head behind it.
"Dad," Richard said, shaking his hand.
"Your mother says you're thinking of changing your major," Matthew said in welcome. "I don't see how you think that's a good idea."
Richard slowly lowered himself back to his seat, the red glow of laughter drained from his cheeks. "I just don't have a very good head for numbers."
His father's eyes lifted with a darkened cast. "In other words, you're failing."
"No," the young man gasped out quickly. "No...my grades are okay, I'm just...I got into some acting classes and...."
"Got into?" Matthew scowled. "Well, get yourself back out of them. If you'd spent more time studying and less time on the field and you might..."
"I'm not dropping Lacrosse," the young man interjected.
"You'll drop it if you have to," Matthew said sternly, turning his head to give a waitress his order. Mallorie frowned, catching the brief, apologetic glance Katherine gave to her son. The young man looked crest-fallen, his eyes downcast and face sullen, and he didn't speak another word while she watched them. Katherine, too, remained tight lipped, pouring herself out another glass of wine.
The light tap of fingers against the door's window glass caused Mallorie to turn her head. Her mother was peering out at her with terror in her eyes. Mallorie stood and quickly turned, exiting the room. Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders the second she entered the kitchen. "Did he see you?"
"No," Mallorie reassured her.
"What on earth possessed you?" her mother seethed, her entire body trembling.
"He wasn't out there when I walked out," she said calmly, trying to get her to relax. "That's why I hid. It's okay, Mom, take it easy."
Her mother let out a heavy breath. "Mallorie, I swear..." she said. "Promise me. Promise me you won't ever try to speak to him."
Mallorie pursed her lips and looked down at her feet, trying not to feel anger herself. "That's not really a fair thing to ask me," she said weakly.
"Look...you don't know that man," her mother said, lowering her voice. "And believe me, you don't want to."
"Then why did you..." Mallorie started.
"No." Her mother shook her head. "I'm not going there. Just trust me when I say he's not a good person."
Mallorie narrowed her eyes at her mother and then reached in her purse, receiving an incoming text message. She tapped it open as they started for the exit, and then stopped in her tracks, reading the message from Armando.
'I just received a letter from the competition. We must have placed. We've been invited to the banquet.'
"Oh boy," she whispered, glancing nervously back towards the dining room as her mother charged out the door ahead of her.
Jada caught her eyes and shook her head. "I don't give two shits about the Great Depression," she whispered, slinking low in her chair and folding her arms in disgust.
Mallorie smiled. After having not spoken for several weeks, she saw Jada's comment as an opening; a hand re-extended in friendship. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "What kind of tickets did you get for the concert? Are they any good?"
"They're in the last row on the floor." Jada turned her body to face Mallorie, resting her arm across the back of her chair. "But that's a lot of bullshit. There was only twenty people ahead of us in line. We counted."
"They probably had a ton of online sales."
"Yeah, maybe." Jada shrugged. "Why weren't you at Football game yesterday?"
"I was grounded the whole week," she whispered, glancing at the trumpet case beside her friend's feet. "Are you really learning to play that thing?"
"Yeah, starting to. Did that girl Brooke leave?"
"Yeah, she's back in New Jersey."
"So then...what have you been doing?" Jada questioned.
"Nothing. But I'm making a little money." Mallorie grinned, reaching in her pocket and pulling out two $20 bills. She waved them seductively in front of her friend. "You wanna go grab a bite after school?"
"You're buying?"
"Yeah." Mallorie gave her a cocky grin. While her business wasn't making her rich, their sales were steadily rising, and she was thinking of adding more shirts to their line and tying each one to a cause. It seemed to work with their company name, Chariot, which Armando had chosen for the competition. "Hey," she added, you know those photos...the ones in his case." She gestured towards the trumpet.
"Of his wife and stuff? You want them?"
"Please." Mallorie waited patiently for Jada to remove them from the lining, and then she tucked the envelope safely between her books. "Thanks. The monument is being built. I went over the other day to see it."
"How's it looks?" Jada asked.
"It looks amazing," Mallorie said. She had marveled at the statue's life-sized framework and the way the three working women it featured seemed to be in motion. Soon at would be cast in bronze and set beside the harbor, forever capturing the pride and strength that emanated from their faces. Class finally ended with a bell ring. She stood, gathering her things together, and then touched Jada on the shoulder. "You think we can be friends again?" she asked sincerely. "I really miss hanging out with you."
"Yeah, sure." Jada shrugged, immediately starting to ramble on about her entire night of camping out for tickets.
---
October rushed in with money. It rained down on Mallorie like the golden leaves that littered Central Park, filling up her bank account with large daily deposits. Armando had invested their profits wisely, choosing smart advertising options, and he'd gotten them three interviews with teen magazines, talking about their project. He was as savvy as he was ambitious, and his drive to succeed amazed her. At least three nights a week they'd be on the phone together, discussing the state of their finances and strategizing their next move, although with school they both had little time to meet.
But the money made it worth it. Mallorie twirled in front of the bathroom mirror by the Wellington's service door, admiring her dress and shoes. She lifted her hair and shook her head, watching her new earrings sparkle. "So where should we go?" she asked her mother, excited to treat her to dinner.
"Angelo's," Valeria said. "I'm dying for some pizza. I'll just be a few more minutes."
Mallorie smiled, following her out into the kitchen. It was the evening of the hotel's costume ball, and her mother was staying late to help set up. She peered into the spacious room, trying to imagine it full of beautiful masked people, and then she crossed the kitchen and glanced out into the hotel's dining area. Her eyes widened in surprise behind the door's little glass window.
Katherine Durham was seated sideways at a table in a short, sequined dress, one long leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her face was the creamy beige of morning with a dusting of rose blush, and her long blonde hair hung in voluminous curls. She was seated with a young man, although Mallorie couldn't see him. She edged through the door and moved across the room, trying to get a better angle.
"It was amazing." The young man hands excitedly recreated his actions while he spoke. "It was a perfect reverse pass, and he dunked it right in."
"Well, I'm proud of you." Katherine smiled, her heavily-ringed fingers wrapped gracefully around a glass. "Hopefully next time, your father and I can come."
Mallorie's head tilted with curiosity. It was their middle son, Richard, who she knew went to college, although she wasn't sure where. She took a seat at a table in the corner, hoping to remain inconspicuous, although she imagined Katherine wouldn't remember her just from a minute in the elevator. The two of them continued to have a lively conversation. Richard said something funny and his mother threw back her head, joining him in uproarious laughter. Then suddenly they both grew silent. Richard stood up post straight and extended his hand while Katherine quickly downed the contents of her glass.
Mallorie's eyes scanned in the direction of his greeting and then gasped, lowering her head. It was Matthew Durham, joining them at their table. She picked up the menu the waiter had left and ducked her head behind it.
"Dad," Richard said, shaking his hand.
"Your mother says you're thinking of changing your major," Matthew said in welcome. "I don't see how you think that's a good idea."
Richard slowly lowered himself back to his seat, the red glow of laughter drained from his cheeks. "I just don't have a very good head for numbers."
His father's eyes lifted with a darkened cast. "In other words, you're failing."
"No," the young man gasped out quickly. "No...my grades are okay, I'm just...I got into some acting classes and...."
"Got into?" Matthew scowled. "Well, get yourself back out of them. If you'd spent more time studying and less time on the field and you might..."
"I'm not dropping Lacrosse," the young man interjected.
"You'll drop it if you have to," Matthew said sternly, turning his head to give a waitress his order. Mallorie frowned, catching the brief, apologetic glance Katherine gave to her son. The young man looked crest-fallen, his eyes downcast and face sullen, and he didn't speak another word while she watched them. Katherine, too, remained tight lipped, pouring herself out another glass of wine.
The light tap of fingers against the door's window glass caused Mallorie to turn her head. Her mother was peering out at her with terror in her eyes. Mallorie stood and quickly turned, exiting the room. Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders the second she entered the kitchen. "Did he see you?"
"No," Mallorie reassured her.
"What on earth possessed you?" her mother seethed, her entire body trembling.
"He wasn't out there when I walked out," she said calmly, trying to get her to relax. "That's why I hid. It's okay, Mom, take it easy."
Her mother let out a heavy breath. "Mallorie, I swear..." she said. "Promise me. Promise me you won't ever try to speak to him."
Mallorie pursed her lips and looked down at her feet, trying not to feel anger herself. "That's not really a fair thing to ask me," she said weakly.
"Look...you don't know that man," her mother said, lowering her voice. "And believe me, you don't want to."
"Then why did you..." Mallorie started.
"No." Her mother shook her head. "I'm not going there. Just trust me when I say he's not a good person."
Mallorie narrowed her eyes at her mother and then reached in her purse, receiving an incoming text message. She tapped it open as they started for the exit, and then stopped in her tracks, reading the message from Armando.
'I just received a letter from the competition. We must have placed. We've been invited to the banquet.'
"Oh boy," she whispered, glancing nervously back towards the dining room as her mother charged out the door ahead of her.
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