Kritter
The one and only...
A mellow folk song played from the tiny speakers attached to Mallorie’s iPod. She’d never heard of the band before, but Brooke had ‘liked’ them on Facebook, and she was curious to see if they liked the same music. Grabbing a notebook, she sank to the floor, leaning her back against her bed, her toes pressed against the radiator. She opened to an empty page and stared at it for half a minute, tapping her pen against her lower lip. “Public domain.” She jotted it down, before glancing up at the blue sky outside her window. Her eyes drifted to the clock. Jada wanted to get together to make plans for the beach, but she had so much to do. She needed to write a business plan, pick out the photos she wanted, think of a few more catch phrases and maybe sketch some designs. However, it was nearing noon, and Brooke had posted something about meeting some friends for lunch, and she was dying to see who they were and where they were going.
She put down the notebook and then picked it back up, grunting with frustration. Entering the contest was a must if she was ever going to get a chance to talk to Matthew Durham. “My father,” she corrected her thoughts, although it still felt funny to say it.
She put the notebook down again and pulled herself to her feet, walking over to check her email. Earlier in the day, she had written a private message to Armando Martinez over Facebook, introducing herself and asking him what he thought of her idea. Now she felt silly for having done so. He was in college studying music, and his business was an iPhone app that allowed people to track street musicians. He probably thought she was crazy, writing to him about girls' fashion. She stood, preparing to go back to work, and then she paused, biting her lip. The deadline was still half a year away, and she had no idea how long Brooke was staying in the city. Plus, it was summer vacation, and she was supposed to be having fun. Mallorie smirked at that final sentiment. Grabbing her purse, she raced out the door, scrambling to catch the downtown bus.
--
Public benches dotted the sidewalk that skirted the wall around Central Park. Mallorie sat in the corner of one, hoping to appear invisible among the throngs of innumerable strangers. She tugged down the hem of her short, blue dress, knowing her mother would kill her if she ever saw her wearing it out. Her eyes remained glued on the entrance way to the Wellington Hotel, watching for any signs of Brooke or her friends. After twenty minutes, she stood and paced closer, concerned she might have missed them somehow. “Or are you eating inside?” she questioned, trotting across the street, impatiently edging closer to the emerald canopy that sat over the front door.
A second later, Brooke emerged from the door in the company of three other teens. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and shorts, looking cool and breezy with a lavender scarf and belt. Mallorie quickly spun on her heels as they started down Central Park West behind her. She could just make out their conversation whenever their voices rose. It was talk about which college had the best swim team coach and what they were planning to eat at Safia’s. Mallorie was familiar with the restaurant’s name. It was a ridiculously expensive sushi place a few blocks away. She made a turn when she reached the corner, assuming they would do the same.
Leaving the grand concrete towers near Central Park behind, the street grew more quaint. She strolled past the beautiful four-story brownstones, passing in and out of the shade of a dozen leafy, green trees. Mallorie slowed her steps a little, wanting to catch more of what the girls were saying. Brooke, she noted, spoke the least and the softest - the opposite of what she expected. She was no queen bee, nor even very outgoing, if her current conversation was any indication. They talked about a mutual friend who was thinking of getting married and about a party they were planning on attending, but the majority of their discussion was confusing and seemed to center on horses. She spent a moment thinking that the girls were kind of shallow, before realizing most of her conversations with Jada centered around boy bands, boys and TV shows. The restaurant came into sight and Mallorie crossed the street, having heard enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Riding home on the bus was pleasant, as its air conditioner was going at full blast. She picked up the newspaper on the seat beside her and started browsing through it, finding amusement in the comics, but her eyes were drawn to an ad for DVC. They were looking for college students to be summer interns, and it set off a thought in her head. Even if her father had no interest in her, he might still be able to help her in her career. Although, that would require speaking with him, a scary thought she couldn’t imagine accomplishing.
She put down the notebook and then picked it back up, grunting with frustration. Entering the contest was a must if she was ever going to get a chance to talk to Matthew Durham. “My father,” she corrected her thoughts, although it still felt funny to say it.
She put the notebook down again and pulled herself to her feet, walking over to check her email. Earlier in the day, she had written a private message to Armando Martinez over Facebook, introducing herself and asking him what he thought of her idea. Now she felt silly for having done so. He was in college studying music, and his business was an iPhone app that allowed people to track street musicians. He probably thought she was crazy, writing to him about girls' fashion. She stood, preparing to go back to work, and then she paused, biting her lip. The deadline was still half a year away, and she had no idea how long Brooke was staying in the city. Plus, it was summer vacation, and she was supposed to be having fun. Mallorie smirked at that final sentiment. Grabbing her purse, she raced out the door, scrambling to catch the downtown bus.
--
Public benches dotted the sidewalk that skirted the wall around Central Park. Mallorie sat in the corner of one, hoping to appear invisible among the throngs of innumerable strangers. She tugged down the hem of her short, blue dress, knowing her mother would kill her if she ever saw her wearing it out. Her eyes remained glued on the entrance way to the Wellington Hotel, watching for any signs of Brooke or her friends. After twenty minutes, she stood and paced closer, concerned she might have missed them somehow. “Or are you eating inside?” she questioned, trotting across the street, impatiently edging closer to the emerald canopy that sat over the front door.
A second later, Brooke emerged from the door in the company of three other teens. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and shorts, looking cool and breezy with a lavender scarf and belt. Mallorie quickly spun on her heels as they started down Central Park West behind her. She could just make out their conversation whenever their voices rose. It was talk about which college had the best swim team coach and what they were planning to eat at Safia’s. Mallorie was familiar with the restaurant’s name. It was a ridiculously expensive sushi place a few blocks away. She made a turn when she reached the corner, assuming they would do the same.
Leaving the grand concrete towers near Central Park behind, the street grew more quaint. She strolled past the beautiful four-story brownstones, passing in and out of the shade of a dozen leafy, green trees. Mallorie slowed her steps a little, wanting to catch more of what the girls were saying. Brooke, she noted, spoke the least and the softest - the opposite of what she expected. She was no queen bee, nor even very outgoing, if her current conversation was any indication. They talked about a mutual friend who was thinking of getting married and about a party they were planning on attending, but the majority of their discussion was confusing and seemed to center on horses. She spent a moment thinking that the girls were kind of shallow, before realizing most of her conversations with Jada centered around boy bands, boys and TV shows. The restaurant came into sight and Mallorie crossed the street, having heard enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Riding home on the bus was pleasant, as its air conditioner was going at full blast. She picked up the newspaper on the seat beside her and started browsing through it, finding amusement in the comics, but her eyes were drawn to an ad for DVC. They were looking for college students to be summer interns, and it set off a thought in her head. Even if her father had no interest in her, he might still be able to help her in her career. Although, that would require speaking with him, a scary thought she couldn’t imagine accomplishing.
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Rutrow! LOL