Beginning of the Business

Chapter One

"Annie, can you please answer the phone?"

"Coming, Mom!" I called, ambling toward the living room to nab the phone. I pressed it close to my ear, saying, "Hello? This is the Goode residence."

For a while, there was a bit of static on the other end before a woman replied, "Hello, Annie. Is your mother here? I would like to speak to her." She was the same person who'd called earlier in the week. Her name was…what was it? I forgot; almost every call on the house was about my mom or dad. It was always them, much less commercial calls, or this sweet man calling about a new business trip my mother was going to. Oh, and that includes a lot of my best friends on the line.

I'm going to introduce myself. I'm Annie Goode, and I live in Roseville, Virginia. It's a sleepy town there, and we have our own pace at life. Today's the weekend, and I'm waiting for a call from one of my friends, Bethany Frank. It's the end of the school semester, and today is the beginning of my summer vacation. I'm hoping to get good grades, don't do bad things, and try not to be good-two shoes. My mom encouraged me to go to all these language taking classes, and a whole lot of unnecessary stuff. Really, who needs to learn how to use a chapstick to kill a grown man?

But instead I nodded even though the other woman on the end would see it and said, "Okay, please wait." I set the phone on the coffee table and ran to upstairs to my mom. She was situated on a ladder, painting our guest room with primary paint. "Mom! There's someone on the phone, and she wants to talk to you!"

Mom slid down the steps, placing her roller on a tray. She was wearing a white, messy smock over her clothes with old jeans, her silky shoulder-length hair tied in a quick ponytail. "I'll go there in a sec." She walked down the sheet-covered floor, and spun around, examining her work with a critical eye. "The painting work is done now." She walked down the stairs, me following after. With a quick scoop, my mom held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

After a moment, she smiled and twirled the wires of the phone. "That's great! I can wait. Annie just came from school and then we can get ready…" she trailed off, and nodded. "We'll see you later, we just need some preparations."

"So who was that?" I asked as she shut the phone on the receiver. My mom grinned and removed her hair band, allowing her brunette hair to spill over her shoulders. She removed her smock and hung it on a nearby rack. "It's your father. He's coming home from his entrepreneur work from Hawaii!" My heart skipped. Dad was going home!

"Do we wait?"

She shook her head. "No, silly, we're going to meet him by the gazebo for a quick dinner at the diner. Home alone or are you coming?"

"Formal?"

"Semi-formal, if you want."

I sped up stairs and threw open the door to my room. Deliberately, I whipped out a green shirt along with beige shorts. I was pulling on my socks when Mom called, "I'm waiting!" I made a mad dash down the steps and nearly stumbled into my mom.

She had replaced her old jeans with fresh clean ones and a button-up blouse. Keys jangled in her pocket as she threw open the door, stepping outside.

A car whizzed by, and we jaywalked across the street before we entered the heart of Roseville. Lots of kids from my school were out free, laughing and playing around the gazebo. Occasionally they would gap at my mom. I forgot that single detail: my mom's a hottie, no denying that. We chose a nearby bench and sat, watching the sunny sky overhead slowly diminishing to dusk.

In a few minutes, Dad would come home, and then I could tell them both. About those letters crazily sent from the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. They had my average score and everything; they wanted me to join their boarding school. I'm not sure if my parents wanted me to go there, since the academy has this sort-of reputation with us Roseville people. They're snobby rich girls that go there, and even my science teacher just shuns them. It's pretty extreme.

"Are you excited?" Mom asked suddenly. Her hands were folded on her lap, and she stared on at the guys playing in the town square; many girls were entering stores and the library. Some wanted to finish with their summer homework. I was sort of done with it like…two hours ago?

"It's been two weeks without him, I can't wait." I told her, trying not to implode out of sheer happiness. "When is he coming?"

Just then a man with a fedora hat shielding his face took a seat beside us. I felt uneasy. Because when a suspicious-looking man decides to sit right next to your mother and yourself, it could get really ugly.

The guy removed his hat, revealing my father. Note that he had these dark eyes and handsome features. Am I lucky to have pretty-faced parents?

Oh yeah, he can actually be my father. "Hey, Annie!" he said brightly, and I giggled when he tickled my stomach. He smiled at my mom. "It's been awhile, Cammie."

She smiled back and eased closer. "It must've been a long trip to Hawaii and back, right? Seen any tangos around the place?"

I furrowed my brow. "There are no tangos in Hawaii, Mom."

Mom gave a knowing grin to Dad. "I know. But there are some really bad dancers who call themselves a tango. They're horrible. So, did you see them?" she prompted. My father shrugged while wearing his signature smirk (that happens to make women swoon) and said, "Saw a lot of them. But it was a close call they saw me watching them. Entrepreneur work is very tough work, Annie. There were a lot of customers who were tangos."

"I am in a very dire situation for dinner." Mom announced as she stood up, officially ending the "tango" question and answer. "My treat, I'll pay."

It was packed inside. Parents and kids of different ages and sizes housed the best seats, so my dad chose a secluded corner of three seats. I crawled in the booth, while my mother and father eased a different seat. Promptly the waiter came and took our orders. The din of yelling parents reprimanding evil children was a bit noisy, sure. At least I'm not those shrieking banshees and all.

My mom leaned a bit back in her seat. "So, did you want to tell us about your letters from the Gallagher Academy?" she asked. I doubled back in surprise, nearly choking on my glass of water.

"How do you know?"

She pointed to herself. "You left them on your desk." Dad wrapped and arm around her shoulder, and they both smirked. It was an overload of smirking until I said, "Mo-om! I have privacy preferences." I protested.

Mom shrugged and playfully dropped my father's hat on my hat. I could see darkness—literally. "The letter was cut open. And we decided that you would join."

"What?" I yelled, and every head in the room turned to me. "But it's an all-girl school! I don't want to go there, it's all about pretty rich girls and they're going to mess with me!"

My parents exchanged looks, seeming to pass a conversation when they turned back. "Annie, it's been a while since we spent some time together. But the Gallagher Academy is the greatest place to be. Well, not all girls are snobby. None of them tried to hurt you, did they?"

I shook my head. He was right. "So you're going to learn what lies inside the school, and you will be amazed. You're twelve now, and next semester is going to be seventh grade. The lowest grade students will begin in seventh grade. Yeah."

My mom and dad are sort of like business people, travelling around, sometimes taking me with them. Maybe the Gallagher Academy has this very large intelligent girls learning more than what I get in the Roseville elementary school. And my parents schooled me a lot more advanced stuff than what I got there. This is starting to actually sound convincing. "What about my friends? I still get to talk to them?"

"Of course, kiddo. But the security in the academy is tight. They don't like intruders." Mom told me. "And the headmistress is kind. But it'll be a surprise."

And that is how my parents convinced me to go to the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. We ate our food, and my mom ordered her dessert, a bowl of sweet custard, and tasted it. She made a face and said under her breath, "This is not crème brûlée."