Hillary
“Laurel, can you get that bike out of the living room?!” My mom yells at Laurel again for riding her new electric bicycle that Bentley bought—brought for her, actually, because his company makes them. It looks so cool; I want one. I don’t know why she gets gifts all the time but not me. I mean, she already has a Bentley while I’ve literally never driven a car my entire life. Mostly because I can’t drive, but also because I don’t want to drive ever.
I like the bicycle, it’s cool. But I don’t want to have to ask, I’d just steal Laurel’s own.
“No, thank you, Nora,” I wave her off politely because I’d rather go ride Laurel’s bike than eat dessert with them.
The table is full, surrounded by chatter and everyone just talking over each other. I love it, having the house full, a big
