They were pretty close, Mila and her brother, but he was heading off to college and she was starting to take it hard. We could all see it, even if she thought she was hiding it, we could see the pain in her eyes when he was brought up.
"Pizza's here!" Mila called.
"Coming," I shouted back. I gently rested my hand on a small painting that was right above her desk. That was the most important piece of artwork ever. We all made it right after the incident. It served as a reminder to us that we would always be friends forever, even if we got in arguments like me and Mila did today.
I went downstairs and the scent of pizza wafted in my direction. This wasn't just any pizza, it was Costco pizza! Costco pizza was the best food for any teenage girl on the Earth.
"How did you get this delivered? I thought Costco doesn't deliver," I said, walking into the kitchen.
"They don't" Mila said between bites, "I got a friend to bring it to me," I laughed and joined her at the counter. Warm crust, gooey cheese, and just the right amount of sauce. This was literally a slice of heaven.
"So," Mila said, "What's up?"
I finished my slice of pizza and thought for a bit; what did I really want her to know? She did let me in, so I guess I owe her the whole truth. "Well," I started, recounting the day that had passed, "My mom, the Bitch, started comparing me to... you and I was a little pissed at that because we are two completely different people. Then she started talking about my future and how I won't be a successful designer. Basically, she started verbally attacking me and my father just sat there reading the sports section of the paper," Mila looked amazed. "That's not the best part," I said, "I confronted him later after the Bitch left and he acted like she's a PMS-ing teenager! She's 'retired' from that business, if you know what I mean, and she shouldn't be like this. Then I questioned his paternity and told him that they could have some non-teenager filled time, and then I came here after pissing Emily off."
Mila digested what I had just told her, "You should show your mom," she began slowly, still thinking, "that you can have a successful career in the fashion industry. I think I know of a couple competitions that you could enter some designs in... Yeah, let me go print off the stuff," she ran up to her room and began printing numerous papers. After three minutes of sifting through papers and pulling out the sheets she wanted, she handed me five papers. They were basically all the same; submit your designs and receive either scholarship money or cash. I was tempted to enter them and prove my mom wrong, but I didn't think I had the talent.
Mila, reading my thoughts, said, "Just do it. You don't have to tell your mom and it's no big deal if you don't win; lot of people enter these competitions,"
"Pizza's here!" Mila called.
"Coming," I shouted back. I gently rested my hand on a small painting that was right above her desk. That was the most important piece of artwork ever. We all made it right after the incident. It served as a reminder to us that we would always be friends forever, even if we got in arguments like me and Mila did today.
I went downstairs and the scent of pizza wafted in my direction. This wasn't just any pizza, it was Costco pizza! Costco pizza was the best food for any teenage girl on the Earth.
"How did you get this delivered? I thought Costco doesn't deliver," I said, walking into the kitchen.
"They don't" Mila said between bites, "I got a friend to bring it to me," I laughed and joined her at the counter. Warm crust, gooey cheese, and just the right amount of sauce. This was literally a slice of heaven.
"So," Mila said, "What's up?"
I finished my slice of pizza and thought for a bit; what did I really want her to know? She did let me in, so I guess I owe her the whole truth. "Well," I started, recounting the day that had passed, "My mom, the Bitch, started comparing me to... you and I was a little pissed at that because we are two completely different people. Then she started talking about my future and how I won't be a successful designer. Basically, she started verbally attacking me and my father just sat there reading the sports section of the paper," Mila looked amazed. "That's not the best part," I said, "I confronted him later after the Bitch left and he acted like she's a PMS-ing teenager! She's 'retired' from that business, if you know what I mean, and she shouldn't be like this. Then I questioned his paternity and told him that they could have some non-teenager filled time, and then I came here after pissing Emily off."
Mila digested what I had just told her, "You should show your mom," she began slowly, still thinking, "that you can have a successful career in the fashion industry. I think I know of a couple competitions that you could enter some designs in... Yeah, let me go print off the stuff," she ran up to her room and began printing numerous papers. After three minutes of sifting through papers and pulling out the sheets she wanted, she handed me five papers. They were basically all the same; submit your designs and receive either scholarship money or cash. I was tempted to enter them and prove my mom wrong, but I didn't think I had the talent.
Mila, reading my thoughts, said, "Just do it. You don't have to tell your mom and it's no big deal if you don't win; lot of people enter these competitions,"
