Sparrow thought Dad would cut her a little slack the day after the trip and let her skip Friday classes, but Damon knocks on her door a half hour early. “Sparrow, your father wants you downstairs.”
“I’m not dressed.”
“He says you can dress later.”
She pulls a sweatshirt over her sleep shorts and stumbles downstairs. Her head throbs from too little sleep and not drinking enough water on the plane.
Nathan is shoveling in cereal by the sink. “Hey, Sparrow. How’s it going?”
There’s a weird tone in his voice, and he’s eyeing Dad like he wants to warn her that something bad’s going down.
The hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Hey, Nate.”
Dad mops up the last of a poached egg with his toast. “Great news, Sparrow.”
“What?”
“Zelmore just called. A pre-empt came in at eighteen million!”
Dad sees that she’s not registering delight, much less comprehension. “You sold--at a twenty percent bonus!” he says.
“No. No! How’s that possible? I haven’t even been auctioned yet! Who even knew about me?”
“Riley was looking out for you. He sent proofs from your photo shoot to a select list of buyers last night. The bidding war lasted until three AM.”
“Did you know Sotheby’s was going to do this?”
“A pre-empt? I knew it was possible. Pre-empts are standard in auction contracts.”
She thought she had a few weeks. She thought she had time to get away. “I can’t believe this.”
“You don’t sound happy.” Dad’s eyes narrow. He jabs the table with his finger, punctuating each syllable of his displeasure. “I thought you’d appreciate not having to walk a runway in your underwear with two hundred men watching you.”
“Really? You expect me to thank you?”
Dad glares back.
“Who bought me?” Sparrow demands. “What’s his name?”
“Zelmore didn’t say. He’s a hedge fund manager.”
“You don’t know his name?!”
“Zelmore’s sending the paperwork this morning. I can text you his name at school.”
Because it’s not even worth calling. “I hate you for this.”
Dad’s mouth flatlines. “You snot-nosed, selfish--”
Before he can say “bitch,” She snatches his mug and hurls it at the French doors. Dad ducks as the coffee explodes. Pottery and window glass shatter around his legs.
“Goddammit, Sparrow!”
“Enjoy your millions, Daddy!”
She runs upstairs before he gets out of his chair.
“Sparrow, get down here!” Dad yells.
She slams the door so hard the frame splits around the lock. Her hand shakes as she turns the lock. Imran, Imran. She needs to call him, but she can’t from here.
I have to get to school.
“You need to clean up this mess!” Dad yells up to her.
YOU ARE READING
Sparrow's Story - A Girl Defiant
Teen FictionBoston, Harvard, but most of all, Imran. That’s what Sparrow wants. Imran is physics and poetry, deep brown eyes and a smile that makes her heart race. And he’s the only guy she’s ever met who loves her brilliant mind as much as her beauty. They’ve...
