*Slow updates*
After agreeing to be the focus of a college article,
senior Charlie Murtaugh gets more than he bargains for when he's assigned a clueless sophomore who knows nothing about the sport.
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I'm miserable.
Since it's now October, school work has taken off full force and the fact that we all have other commitments makes it more hectic. I've got the article, Sam's working on a side research about the revolving door syndrome of Schizophrenics, Shade's stressing over being black Juliet in a play and Elle-well, Elle got fired from work because she slapped a customer for pinching her ass. I know right?What a perv.
But I'm even more miserable after my 2 hour history of journalism class as I take a sip of the caramel latte I bought from The Galley, an indoor cafe in the student building that's too expensive for the quantity of what they sell. My eyes don't leave the screen of my laptop as I glance over the last line of my article-well what's left of it. I have tried to salvage as much as I can from my original draft but it seems like my ideas for the structure of the article will not work out. Melissa is hellbent on including the accident even though Charlie told her he doesn't want to. She said it's not called journey back to the court for no reason. I'm pretty sure it's unethical and he wouldn't be too happy about it.
Remembering how defensive Charlie got during the interview makes me feel terrible. Although I'm not happy writing this sh*t, I understand it's because I've been left with no choice-I'm a rookie with no power.
My phone vibrates on the table but I ignore it as my mother's name also pops up on my laptop screen. I can't stop the giddy feeling that erupts in me at the sight of the FaceTime call. "Oh my God." I whisper to myself and click on the green button. I smile widely and sit up on my chair excitedly as my parents faces appear on the screen. I'm extremely happy to be seeing their faces after they put off face-timing me for so long because they don't "know how to use it."
My father graduated from Harvard law university and my mother is a part-time interior decorator yet they still don't understand modern technology. I know it's more because they're enjoying their trip and don't want to feel guilty seeing my face. But now that their trip is coming to an end in a couple of days, I guess they finally decided to work their way around it.
"Can she see us?" Eric Perabo moves closer to the camera in confusion, his head getting into the shot and blocking out my mum's face. He looks very different. He has replaced the suits and office shirts with a floral shirt and khaki shorts. The bags under his eyes from working long nights at his New York office are long gone, replaced with a look of pure happiness. His bright blue eyes are somewhat clearer-more relaxed. Right now, the only thing giving his age away is the greying hairs now accompanying the roots of his dark brown hair "Honey can you see us?"
"Stop getting all up in the camera babe, dios mio." My mum pulls my father back before smiling into the camera with her infamous red clad lips. Maria Perabo born from Colombian descent is the epitome of beauty. Her long brown hair flows all the way down to her waist framing her diamond shaped face. Her brown eyes look a lot more like hazel in the sunlight. She's wearing a black bathing suit with a cream net dress on top of it. The golden loop earrings dangling from her ears complement her glistening tanned skin. They both look really good. I'm a tad bit jealous. "¿Lorena puedes vernos? Podemos verte cariño."
