"We are here today to honor a very key part of our society..." The priest droned on. It was so monotone. How could I let my parents become victim the single most boring speech in the history of boring speeches? Oh right, now she was an orphan, and was being sent to one of the most high security, wealthy, snobby boarding schools in the country. The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women.
You may be thinking, 'What a spoiled little brat, doesn't she appreciate her parents money? Her status?' But of course, you don't know my status yet. I used to be the daughter of the richest people in the world. Yolanda and Eustus Crest were the owners of the current oil company, Crest Oil. Now, it all belonged to a fifteen year old. Except I only owned the money. My father's associates owned the company until I was 18. I had no choice in anything. I had the world's money in my hands.
Now, many of you out there would tell me to go give it to charity, or give it back to the people, or something else human. Truth was, I am not thought of as a human girl. I am thought of as an object of interest, subjected to pity parties by the dozen, but despite what you've heard, I do not enjoy it.
As soon as the funeral service ended, a paparazzi poured in. I didn't know why they had to come because there had already been a group of journalists and cameramen everywhere in the room. Newscasters appeared on each side of me. "How does it feel to have the weight of the world's economy on your shoulders?" A newscaster asked. I took it as a cue to start sobbing. I looked away from the camera, pretending to be overcome with despair.
"I think-" I choked out a sob, "I think I can handle it... I won't lay a finger on it." I promised. If the media was stupid enough to ask that question, then they would definitely fall for my hysterics. Everyone always did. I felt a hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd to the limo. Finally, we were out. I stopped crying and said, "Will that cause anything bad, because it sounded pretty good to me. Or will I get grilled for being soft and incapable?"
The guide just stared at me politely. I shrugged and pulled out a notebook. I then opened up to the script my caretaker had given me. It said the following:
Potential Questions: How does it feel to have all that money?/the whole economy? Answer: (options: strong, sure or caring, crying)I think I can handle it. I (optional:personally) promise not to lay a finger on it until it can be used for the well being of everyone!
Mrs. McLorent-Collins
Shoot, I had forgotten the end. I couldn't wait to see the look of pride... Or at least I hope it would be a look like that...
In ten minutes, we had arrived home. I put on a strong face and got out of the car. I ignored the questions and eventually they died down and gradually began to leave.
