| Teenage Dirtbag Z.M. |

10

It felt odd, attending this renowned event. All the socialites in our beloved Golden Hills Valley poured into the Malik Country club, leaving the keys to their 2019 Mercedes, limited edition Lamborghinis, old school Porsches, and custom bedazzled Bugatti's with a designated boy in shirt and tie.

This was the week leading up to the wedding, and the Saturday of cotillion. This was the beginning of many girls adulthood. Essentially, this night was the beginning of their lives.

I remember my cotillion. I was so happy to be doing something-anything- to make me feel closer to my mother. I danced and smiled all night with my escort and best friend-Zayn. Everyone thought we'd end up together. Guess we're proving them right, because here we are, hand in hand, being presented to everyone.

"Miss Lucrezia VanBusten, daughter of Victor VanBusten and Pearl VanBusten. Miss Lucrezia will always be beloved in this community for her wit, dedication, and compassion. She's truly one of a kind, and we are all lucky to be graced by her presence tonight. Accompanying her is her long time sweetheart, Mr. Zayn Malik, son of Tricia and Yasser Malik."

Everyone clapped at the introduction, a woman behind us holding onto the end of my dress. My right hand rested on top of Zayn's left one as we descended the velvet carpeted grand staircase.

"Poor girl." Was whispered by many, and mostly scoffed at was the sentiment. I turned my head towards Zayn in confusion, but he just shrugged.

We walked around the ballroom in tradition, waving and smiling to everyone in the crowd before returning to our seats in the front.

Once seated, I turned to the girl beside me. "Why is everyone.. angry or apathetic towards me?"

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here. This is a charity event."

"What are you talking about Selene?"

"Don't act dumb, everyone knows your dad isn't on some mountain retreat. He stole millions from his investors and fled. It's a matter of time before he gets caught then arrested."

"He did wha-"

"Lu you're talking to a girl whose dad invested all her college money into your dads company. Don't even talk to me."

"I didn't do anything wrong, and even if I did you've done worse so don't even start Selene."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"Besides drunk me up, drive me to a party hours away only to disappear for ten minutes my sloppy seconds? Yeah, nothing wrong." I don't know what hurt more, my literal chest or the high pitch my shaky voice offered.

"Or all those times you stood me up, made up a dumbass excuse then posted hanging with your friends who, by the way, weren't even there for you 1/16th of the time I were. You're right," I say sarcastically, "it's all good."

I wish that's what I had said, but instead I just said, "I'm so sorry about whatever it is that happened, but I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding."