Chapter 4

*** r o l l i n g e y e s ***

Sarah

I tried to handle the situation I just stumbled in as cool as I could, but it was nevertheless the most awkward moment in my life to sit in his car-I do not even know his name- and the silence nearly ate me up. I look down myself, while I'm walking trough the entrance hall of the huge skyscraper I'm living in. Sweatpants, an oversized pullover and my high heels. My dress was ruined-damn expensive piece of rubbish-, so I let it with him.

When I get into the elevator my knees are shaky. It could be, because of my hypoglycaemia, because I didn't eat anything for at least twelve hours I guess. But it could also be my fear to go in front of my parents like this. My, from the pool-water wet hair, are pretty dry in the meantime-so I don't need to explain this at least. I even already thought about an excuse, which is not good and it includes, that Champagne and I were drunk at the party and her mother fetched us. I slept in fastly, as I was at her's and I came home as fast as I could, when I woke up. The oversize-pullover and the much too big sweat pants I borrowed from her mother's lover Jim. He's also the one, who –by accident- dropped my phone-he's the clumsiest. The screen is broken and Champagnes mother brought it tot he repair- costs'll get reimburs. The truth is: I can't remember where I put my mobile phone. I just hope, that it's not where I really come from, but where else could it be? The shock he could see anything on my mobile is terrefying. I have been much too busy, with sitting in the awkward silence on the passsenger seat of a Mercedes and before I really needed to fall into a damn pool. And at last I'm really busy with being afraid of my parents'reaction and not finding my mobile phone again, which'll –with sureness- expire soon, because of the messages-spam my parents should have sent me. I'm sure it's anywhere in this fucking palace of a house and I blush even only by thinking about meeting this guy again and request my mobile phone back.

Now I stand in front of the mirror that goes over three walls in the elevator and practice my excuse in front of it. I admit, my parents'll nevertheless think I'm kind of a very bad daughter- to say it understated-but at least it's better than the truth. The elevator-doors open and I turn away from the mirrors before I stumble directly over the column between elevator and flat into the living-room. I'm stoking for a moment, because I can't see policies, who note down the statement of my parents to the getaway of their daughter. Both of my parents sit on the mint-coloured sofa in the middle oft he room, their faces hidden behind the big papers of the New York Times. My mother keeps on reading the real estate ads, just to complain about how expensive they are, even though we're living in a fucking Penthouse. My dad critically reviews the policy page-just as always. When they notice my embarassing appearance, they look up from their news-articles-so at least my mother does. Her serious face, which actually is very frightening to me, changes to a sort of smile, when she sees me. I need to be in the wrong movie. She gently pushes her elbow in my father's ribs and now he also looks up to me. No smile on his face, but also nothing angry-nothing new. What the hell is going on?? I wait for my punishment every moment, but I get none.

„Hello, Darling.", my mother says and I really am in the wrong movie. I can't know how my face looks in that moment, but on the inside I'm stunned.

„You're late.", my father says coldly, and it's more a fact, because I'm in surance about seven hors too late.

„We thought you'd come earlier.", okay, I guess they want to torture me until I come up with the truth. I'd really like to come up with my excuse, but I can't force my tongue to move.

„Yeah...I know, you..."

„Champagne told us you'd come at ten."What?

„What?", I'm even more confused than before.

„Champagne. She said you'd be driven here by her Chauffer. At ten. Text next time. Please. If you come later or at all. You didn't even answer your phone.", my mother says in the short sentences she always uses. I slowly start doubting the existence of my memories. As far as I know, a short time ago I lay on the hard ground of a million dollar estate. So...did I miss anything? I try to act, as if I could deal with this situation, but it's hard for me to believe that Champagne just told my parents we'd have a sleepover that we offensively didn't have. I immediately need to remember Code 2, but to put it in action I would've needed to call her or at least to text a message. Was I really too drunk to remember it now?

„What are you even wearing?", my mother asks snappy and the welcome-affectation from before has flown away. She's again the woman, who's born me.

„Mum. My dress is still at Champagne. I borrowed those things from the boyfriend of her mother.", who –as a matter of fact-also could be mine, just because of the age. Not that I'd have a dash for an offensive Sugar-Mummy- fetish. At the thought of Jim my father wrinkles his nose.

„I don't understand why she lef her husband.", my father shakes his head disappointed and I'm really too done to listen to my judging parents and to listen to their screwed up imaginations thrive.

„Yes, he was such an educated man.", my mother agrees and forgets to add that Lacy's ex-husband was the biggest rich asshole of them all. She sips on her coffee and my father nods, while I'm still standing, lost, in the entrance area.

„I give this teenager and her some months, not more, then she'll get decent again...even though she never used to be that decent...", I twist my eyes very annoyed. No second longer I will listen to my parents' accusations about my best friend's mother.

„I'm tired. Not much sleep. I'm in my room."I interject into the beginning conversation and already turn my back to them when my mother calls after me:

„And Darling...", she stopps speaking, as if she wants to force me to turn myself around to her.

„Yes?", I ask-without turning myself around.

„Maybe change your clothes before you join the brunch. The Kingburys are also going to join us.", my mother says with the same compulsive undertone she always has.

How loving.