Two hours later, we have six bags in our hands, filled with some of the most beautiful clothes you could imagine, as well four pairs of shoes. I have totally blown out his credit card. But honestly, who cares? It’s not like he can’t afford it.
We are walking down the street, on the way to meet Emerson, eating chocolate waffle ice-cream cones. “Tell me about school,” I say as I lick my chocolate heaven.
She shakes her head. “Nothing to tell.”
“Why do you think those girls pick on you?” I lick my ice cream as I pretend to be blasé about the answer.
She frowns. “I’m just different.”
“How so?” I watch her. I’ve spent the whole day preparing her to have this conversation with me, and if it takes all of Julian’s money to get more from her then so be it.
“I don’t have a mother.” She shrugs
