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Some students would think the T in HOT was at her lowest of lows, even more so now than when she was dealing with her break up with Owen. She was no longer Vice Prez of the student council and she gave her baby, the Newspaper club, to someone she loved to hate, but ultimately respected. Jamie Callaghan. Following through with their deal was her way of being the little hope left he had, since people started frowning upon him for his gossip article about the HOTtest scandal. They both were starting with a clean slate and had an entirely new hand dealt to them, but… she couldn’t help but miss calling the shots.
The adrenaline rush she got when she worked under pressure just to maintain the newspaper… that’s what she loved. She felt like people listened to her and cared to hear what she has to say, but perhaps the only reason she was made editor-in-chief was because she had Hailey and not because of her skill. That would be the only disheartening thing about it all. People would remember her for years to come as that crazy girl who wrote an article to destroy her ex because she was told he cheated on her, and then when all truth came out she went running back to him because she ‘needs’ someone to coddle her. This was high school and she wouldn’t expect anything less.
In all honesty, she will never stop loving journalism and when she goes to college, she’ll still pursue it. She just needs to take a step back and focus on healing on the inside and becoming the person she’d be okay with seeing in the mirror. In addition to that, she does still care about the school. That will never change. That’s why she is still involved with some clubs, like the Morning Show, although it’s simply as a guiding hand.
For those who actually did care to watch her rise and fall under a magnifying glass, her integrity had a slow fall, where her freshman year was her golden age, where she focused on improving the school rather than tearing it apart. Her sophomore year still showed she cared, but it was more focused on people’s reputations and cliques than actual respectable content. Junior year… she fell from grace and permitted gossip in the paper, and did everything that Hailey said as her right-hand lady, to save the paper, to feel beautiful while standing beside her best friends (Hailey and Ophelia), and to keep her mind off of Owen.
Oh, how things have taken a weird turn. She was back with Owen, she and Ophelia forgave each other but they’re still working on picking up the broken pieces, and she felt purposeless without the paper and without Hailey. Dully, her dark gaze scanned her laptop screen at her empty doc as she decided what to write about, fiction-wise. Fiction wasn’t her strong suit but she was told maybe trying a new writing form could help her. Perhaps taking things she knew, and making it into a story. Rules & Roses? She typed as a tentative title name. Maybe she’ll write something based on the harsh reality of her high school experience… hm.
Her mind was brought back to her surroundings when an unsuspected voice demanded her attention. After closing her laptop and grabbing her cup filled with ice, Trixie stood up so that she was standing at eye level with the primadonna. Gently, she moved the ice in her cup, while looking at Samara Hart contemplatively. “Brian is giving the Morning Show an upgrade by giving Rye help, since every teen star needs a break. And well, y’know, we’re bringing up the production value because we believe in Rye’s show. He just doesn’t think like a producer.”
Trixie shifted her body to face the screen that displayed Becca’s video for the elections, “Henry will run away from his duties, if no one makes sure he’s doing them. Plus, if he actually works maybe the principal will let him off the hook early.” The New Years party changed things for him and Dames, which was the beginning of the dominos falling. Things started happening, one after the other. There was inevitable change and it was all thanks to that shitshow party. HOT would have never fallen, if Trixie never went to that party. But it was written in the stars that things needed to change, for the betterment of the school.
And so she could be happy with herself.
There was no malice coming from the once-so-popular girl’s voice. If anything, she was speaking matter-of-factly. Trixie had gotten soft. There was no doubt about that, or she simply just stopped caring about trying to stay at the top.
Glancing back at the gorgeous blonde, Trixie chuckled at the notion that these were strange times. High school was ever-changing and it was for the best that things were changing. Maybe people would be less about each other and more about themselves, enjoying the days that should be simple. Their high school days. “If you didn’t care about something you wouldn’t be talking to me right now, now would you? So, Samara. What’s up?” Cutting to the chase, Trixie turned back to face the other girl, intriguingly observing her like the clever fox that she was, “What brings you here really?” Not every day where the school’s biggest diva actually wanted to casually talk to her. Strange times, indeed. Then and only then Trixie put the cup to her plumped lips and dipped ice in her mouth. She slowly chewed, with eyes that seemed judgemental but were simply how she looked at people sometimes. A bitchface. You can thank her mama for that.
“Straight to the point? You really are in a mood, then.”
Samara laughed, eyeing Trixie’s no-nonsense gaze. She had seen it many times whenever Mara herself had stared into the mirror every morning she finished doing her hair. She saw it this morning and it amused her. If it weren’t for the rumors of Trix being too loose emotionally (or so they say) and the obvious skin tonal differences, she’d say the two were just about the same, which just the thought of that made Sam more interested in Trixie Kingsley.
“What? I can’t come see my favorite member of HOT -- sorry,” she paused, lowly chuckling, “--my favorite member of the trio formerly known as HOT.” She smiled at Trixie. Just as it seemed Trixie was sizing her up and what Mara’s intentions were, the petite blonde was doing the same. In her case, it was more so Samara getting a feel for Trix. “I admit, we don’t know each other, like at all. Reputations aside, of course, but I’m a fan. You give those who deserve a reminder to not fuck with you and you do it with style! I can respect that.”
“That was the old me.” Trixie shrugged, hopping mind over matter could change the error of her ways. She didn’t want to believe she was vindictive, heartless, and full of malice. She didn’t want to think she was out for herself, like everyone else at this school usually was. Except for the burners. They were the only wholesome group this school had to offer. “Or… I’m just focusing on my college portfolio and spending my last year enjoying it with my boyfriend and friends. Out of this mess.” She gestured around them, to emphasize her point that their school was definitely one of a kind.
Genuine honesty on the table, Trixie gave an exasperated sigh, not knowing if she was fully convinced in her own words that she’d stay out of the heat of school drama and politics. Somehow, it felt like she was usually caught in the middle of it. Anyways, she’d surely try, like she was trying to break her desire to drink liquor to deal with her stress and insecurities. “I wouldn’t say I’m in a mood.” She rolled her eyes at that remark before confessing that she was simply emotionally drained, “These past couple of weeks have just been… a lot. But. I’m not going to bitch and complain about it.” At least, not to someone she didn’t really know.
Her fierce glare went from Sam’s face to the co-stars of the show, Ace and Brynn threading the candidates’ backgrounds together with casual conversation while Riley stood crossed arms by the cameraman, watching them carefully and taking mental notes of where they needed to improve. While she went back down, taking her seat, she observed him que the next candidate (with his earpiece) that her part was coming up and then Emmy-Lou’s segment began. “This school will go to the dogs because let’s be real, this election is an open invitation to the student body. Some of those that have taken interest in this game have shown their faces, but the reality is, it doesn’t take a student council member to control the chaos or embrace it.”
The facility and staff doesn’t even care about the council and if the council doesn’t have a Prez and VP team that’s willing to argue with authority on a daily basis, throw money in their faces to get away with murder, and instill fear in them to be given privileges beyond those that the average student gets, being the so-called ‘leaders’ of this school would be a pointless endeavor. Plus, that trope was already done. She doubted the next key player would be running in this election.
Take, the Weekend Warrior for example. An anonymous writer who talks dirt on their blog, that took precautions like masking their IP address. A blog not limited by journalism integrity. Kids itch for the next article because whenever they do write, it’s always worth the read and always highlights exactly what people want to know. The tea. The Weekend Warrior probably thinks they’re this vigilante making a difference, shit-talking those that are higher up the ladder, but it’s obvious they’re just as invested in this drama than anyone else is, feeding off of people’s reactions. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued at what would happen next.
Sam watched what Trix was watching. Only after a long moment of doing this did she roll her eyes. There was nothing more boring than who was going to fill in the rotation of the next cycle of the student council. Samara never had any interest in it. To those who vied for that small window of fame during high school years were more welcomed to soak up the shallow rays the positioned shone on them. She gave that particular subject an interest-ending shrug as she returned to Trixie.
“I would love to know something though.” Sam pulled up a chair next to where Trixie was sitting. “When you wrote that article and let the dominoes fall where they may, did it send a rush through your veins? I’m talking about the moments that came after you published that raw display of your scorned heart. It had to have been an empowering high.” Sam thrived off of gossip. One of her most addictive drugs was, in fact, hearing it from the source.
Sam hit a cord inside of Trixie and her grip tightened on her styrofoam cup. “The Cowardly Lyon was far from empowering.” When she wrote that article, she twisted facts with lies and it may have felt good to give him just deserts, when she thought he was guilty but it didn’t make it right. An eye for an eye was not a philosophy she wanted to live by. She used Owen’s vulnerabilities to her advantage, making her a bitch you don’t want to fuck with, but also… ripping the heart right out of someone she loved. Someone she should’ve given the time of day to speak his case. “I didn’t do what I thought was right. I didn’t write that because I was strong. I wrote that to get even. I want to become a journalist because I want to understand the heart of the world, not show the world that this bitch is crazy and not a reliable source. I will say that ‘raw display’ did teach me something. It showed me how much I have yet to learn. But, that article isn’t something I’m proud about. It’s just a reminder of how shitty I can be.” Why the hell was she pleading her case to this girl anyways? She was getting punished enough for that emotional outburst.
Standing up, leaving the cup behind, Trixie shook her head, “If you think hurting someone is a form of self-empowerment, you’ve got a lot to learn too. Now, don’t you have homeroom to get to, or something?” Why don't people ever want a normal conversation with her? Why did they always want something to gain? How’s your day, Trixie? Oh, nice manicure, Trixie! I love the color. Do you want to see a movie together, Trixie? Nah. That’s not the life she has at this damn school. Why the hell did Samara even have to bring up her biggest mistake? As if Trixie liked to talk about it freely. Fucking annoying.
The way Trixie had exploded had proved those rumors to be true, but it wasn’t enough for Samara. She didn’t know exactly what it was but she knew she needed something more. As she thought about it a little more, she had leaned back into the chair she was sitting in. “I know who I am. Some people spend their entire lives deciding what they need to do for the sake of others. If you’re too bitchy, then people complain; if you’re too nice, they’ll call you a pushover. But do you know what I say to them?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. “I show them my bank account and how the words of the sheep mean very little to people like you and me: the types who will eventually rule this world in every way that matters.” As she spoke, she crossed one leg over the other and smiled.
“So you’re money and power.” Beatrix frowned at that sentiment. Such a skewed perception on life. That being said, Sam wasn’t to blame for that. Her parents were and those she’s surrounded by that never taught her that she was ever wrong. A mentality that a lot of people that are fortunate to have a trust fund, such as herself, have. She was fortunate enough to have parents that chose the wilderness over riches, living in their own little paradise in Alaska. They still made bank, obviously not Green level, but they made a comfortable amount. It was all material to her family, though. They didn’t need money. Or power. They were simply happy helping people. There was a sudden revelation Trixie gained about herself, in this moment. The root of who she was, as a person, when most of her high school career she tried so hard to be like Hailey and Ophelia. The filthy rich world wasn’t for her.
“I feel sorry for you. Yes, I believe we have a right to our opinions, especially as women, but the way you want to go about things sounds kind of… lonely. You choose elements in life that you could lose in a heartbeat. If you didn’t have money, if you didn’t have your family’s influence, where would that leave you?” That was rhetorical too. “Just bitter.” She did agree, that most people were like sheep, harmless creatures going about their everyday life, wanting to be left alone with those they loved. Then there were the wolves. Those who want nothing more than to eat those sheep, like Samara. Trixie didn’t think she was either. She wasn’t as ruthless as a wolf and she wasn’t as vulnerable as a sheep. If she had to choose a life she wanted to live, from this point on, it would be that of a sheepdog. She’d choose protection over predation, because she believed in order to ‘rule the world’ you have to be a positive influence, and care for sheep, wolves, and dogs alike. You had to root for humanity, not just yourself. Man, this was the clearest her mind has ever been and it was all thanks to this random conversation.
“Trixie, dear, I’m not old enough to be bitter, but it’s so wonderful that you recognize my family name has influence.” Samara opted to ignore all of the insults.
What she saw as a negative thing was what drove Samara to become the queen she knew she was destined to become. She grew up knowing she was going to accomplish great things. One thing Trixie was right about was how her family’s money could disappear. All it’d take is a bad business deal gone horribly or a scandal that HartCorp couldn’t come back from, but Sam had more than just that driving her. The girl had her sky’s-the-limit ambition and the confidence to back her up. If she was to be poor one day, then so be it. Money only made her destiny a little brighter but she will become pop royalty eventually.
She stood up and straightened her outfit. She looked at the girl and could only sigh at the disappointment that Beatrice Kingsley turned out to be. “Do me a favor: if you ever find your edge again, come find me. I’d love to talk to that Trixie Kingsley, not this shell she has become.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Trixie smiled, oddly not angry at this confrontation at all. Actually, she was at peace with herself and it felt great. She’d have to tell Owen all about it later. “Sam. If you need someone to talk to, you already know how to find me.” Part of her did think of something clever and edgy to say back, ‘if you ever find your heart, I’ll be waiting to talk to you again’, but she decided to offer a small piece of friendship, if she ever did find herself between a rock and a hard place. Something about this conversation made her understand her cousin, Hailey Green, a bit more too, and honestly? She couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m here, if you need me.”
The adrenaline rush she got when she worked under pressure just to maintain the newspaper… that’s what she loved. She felt like people listened to her and cared to hear what she has to say, but perhaps the only reason she was made editor-in-chief was because she had Hailey and not because of her skill. That would be the only disheartening thing about it all. People would remember her for years to come as that crazy girl who wrote an article to destroy her ex because she was told he cheated on her, and then when all truth came out she went running back to him because she ‘needs’ someone to coddle her. This was high school and she wouldn’t expect anything less.
In all honesty, she will never stop loving journalism and when she goes to college, she’ll still pursue it. She just needs to take a step back and focus on healing on the inside and becoming the person she’d be okay with seeing in the mirror. In addition to that, she does still care about the school. That will never change. That’s why she is still involved with some clubs, like the Morning Show, although it’s simply as a guiding hand.
For those who actually did care to watch her rise and fall under a magnifying glass, her integrity had a slow fall, where her freshman year was her golden age, where she focused on improving the school rather than tearing it apart. Her sophomore year still showed she cared, but it was more focused on people’s reputations and cliques than actual respectable content. Junior year… she fell from grace and permitted gossip in the paper, and did everything that Hailey said as her right-hand lady, to save the paper, to feel beautiful while standing beside her best friends (Hailey and Ophelia), and to keep her mind off of Owen.
Oh, how things have taken a weird turn. She was back with Owen, she and Ophelia forgave each other but they’re still working on picking up the broken pieces, and she felt purposeless without the paper and without Hailey. Dully, her dark gaze scanned her laptop screen at her empty doc as she decided what to write about, fiction-wise. Fiction wasn’t her strong suit but she was told maybe trying a new writing form could help her. Perhaps taking things she knew, and making it into a story. Rules & Roses? She typed as a tentative title name. Maybe she’ll write something based on the harsh reality of her high school experience… hm.
Her mind was brought back to her surroundings when an unsuspected voice demanded her attention. After closing her laptop and grabbing her cup filled with ice, Trixie stood up so that she was standing at eye level with the primadonna. Gently, she moved the ice in her cup, while looking at Samara Hart contemplatively. “Brian is giving the Morning Show an upgrade by giving Rye help, since every teen star needs a break. And well, y’know, we’re bringing up the production value because we believe in Rye’s show. He just doesn’t think like a producer.”
Trixie shifted her body to face the screen that displayed Becca’s video for the elections, “Henry will run away from his duties, if no one makes sure he’s doing them. Plus, if he actually works maybe the principal will let him off the hook early.” The New Years party changed things for him and Dames, which was the beginning of the dominos falling. Things started happening, one after the other. There was inevitable change and it was all thanks to that shitshow party. HOT would have never fallen, if Trixie never went to that party. But it was written in the stars that things needed to change, for the betterment of the school.
And so she could be happy with herself.
There was no malice coming from the once-so-popular girl’s voice. If anything, she was speaking matter-of-factly. Trixie had gotten soft. There was no doubt about that, or she simply just stopped caring about trying to stay at the top.
Glancing back at the gorgeous blonde, Trixie chuckled at the notion that these were strange times. High school was ever-changing and it was for the best that things were changing. Maybe people would be less about each other and more about themselves, enjoying the days that should be simple. Their high school days. “If you didn’t care about something you wouldn’t be talking to me right now, now would you? So, Samara. What’s up?” Cutting to the chase, Trixie turned back to face the other girl, intriguingly observing her like the clever fox that she was, “What brings you here really?” Not every day where the school’s biggest diva actually wanted to casually talk to her. Strange times, indeed. Then and only then Trixie put the cup to her plumped lips and dipped ice in her mouth. She slowly chewed, with eyes that seemed judgemental but were simply how she looked at people sometimes. A bitchface. You can thank her mama for that.
“Straight to the point? You really are in a mood, then.”
Samara laughed, eyeing Trixie’s no-nonsense gaze. She had seen it many times whenever Mara herself had stared into the mirror every morning she finished doing her hair. She saw it this morning and it amused her. If it weren’t for the rumors of Trix being too loose emotionally (or so they say) and the obvious skin tonal differences, she’d say the two were just about the same, which just the thought of that made Sam more interested in Trixie Kingsley.
“What? I can’t come see my favorite member of HOT -- sorry,” she paused, lowly chuckling, “--my favorite member of the trio formerly known as HOT.” She smiled at Trixie. Just as it seemed Trixie was sizing her up and what Mara’s intentions were, the petite blonde was doing the same. In her case, it was more so Samara getting a feel for Trix. “I admit, we don’t know each other, like at all. Reputations aside, of course, but I’m a fan. You give those who deserve a reminder to not fuck with you and you do it with style! I can respect that.”
“That was the old me.” Trixie shrugged, hopping mind over matter could change the error of her ways. She didn’t want to believe she was vindictive, heartless, and full of malice. She didn’t want to think she was out for herself, like everyone else at this school usually was. Except for the burners. They were the only wholesome group this school had to offer. “Or… I’m just focusing on my college portfolio and spending my last year enjoying it with my boyfriend and friends. Out of this mess.” She gestured around them, to emphasize her point that their school was definitely one of a kind.
Genuine honesty on the table, Trixie gave an exasperated sigh, not knowing if she was fully convinced in her own words that she’d stay out of the heat of school drama and politics. Somehow, it felt like she was usually caught in the middle of it. Anyways, she’d surely try, like she was trying to break her desire to drink liquor to deal with her stress and insecurities. “I wouldn’t say I’m in a mood.” She rolled her eyes at that remark before confessing that she was simply emotionally drained, “These past couple of weeks have just been… a lot. But. I’m not going to bitch and complain about it.” At least, not to someone she didn’t really know.
Her fierce glare went from Sam’s face to the co-stars of the show, Ace and Brynn threading the candidates’ backgrounds together with casual conversation while Riley stood crossed arms by the cameraman, watching them carefully and taking mental notes of where they needed to improve. While she went back down, taking her seat, she observed him que the next candidate (with his earpiece) that her part was coming up and then Emmy-Lou’s segment began. “This school will go to the dogs because let’s be real, this election is an open invitation to the student body. Some of those that have taken interest in this game have shown their faces, but the reality is, it doesn’t take a student council member to control the chaos or embrace it.”
The facility and staff doesn’t even care about the council and if the council doesn’t have a Prez and VP team that’s willing to argue with authority on a daily basis, throw money in their faces to get away with murder, and instill fear in them to be given privileges beyond those that the average student gets, being the so-called ‘leaders’ of this school would be a pointless endeavor. Plus, that trope was already done. She doubted the next key player would be running in this election.
Take, the Weekend Warrior for example. An anonymous writer who talks dirt on their blog, that took precautions like masking their IP address. A blog not limited by journalism integrity. Kids itch for the next article because whenever they do write, it’s always worth the read and always highlights exactly what people want to know. The tea. The Weekend Warrior probably thinks they’re this vigilante making a difference, shit-talking those that are higher up the ladder, but it’s obvious they’re just as invested in this drama than anyone else is, feeding off of people’s reactions. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued at what would happen next.
Sam watched what Trix was watching. Only after a long moment of doing this did she roll her eyes. There was nothing more boring than who was going to fill in the rotation of the next cycle of the student council. Samara never had any interest in it. To those who vied for that small window of fame during high school years were more welcomed to soak up the shallow rays the positioned shone on them. She gave that particular subject an interest-ending shrug as she returned to Trixie.
“I would love to know something though.” Sam pulled up a chair next to where Trixie was sitting. “When you wrote that article and let the dominoes fall where they may, did it send a rush through your veins? I’m talking about the moments that came after you published that raw display of your scorned heart. It had to have been an empowering high.” Sam thrived off of gossip. One of her most addictive drugs was, in fact, hearing it from the source.
Sam hit a cord inside of Trixie and her grip tightened on her styrofoam cup. “The Cowardly Lyon was far from empowering.” When she wrote that article, she twisted facts with lies and it may have felt good to give him just deserts, when she thought he was guilty but it didn’t make it right. An eye for an eye was not a philosophy she wanted to live by. She used Owen’s vulnerabilities to her advantage, making her a bitch you don’t want to fuck with, but also… ripping the heart right out of someone she loved. Someone she should’ve given the time of day to speak his case. “I didn’t do what I thought was right. I didn’t write that because I was strong. I wrote that to get even. I want to become a journalist because I want to understand the heart of the world, not show the world that this bitch is crazy and not a reliable source. I will say that ‘raw display’ did teach me something. It showed me how much I have yet to learn. But, that article isn’t something I’m proud about. It’s just a reminder of how shitty I can be.” Why the hell was she pleading her case to this girl anyways? She was getting punished enough for that emotional outburst.
Standing up, leaving the cup behind, Trixie shook her head, “If you think hurting someone is a form of self-empowerment, you’ve got a lot to learn too. Now, don’t you have homeroom to get to, or something?” Why don't people ever want a normal conversation with her? Why did they always want something to gain? How’s your day, Trixie? Oh, nice manicure, Trixie! I love the color. Do you want to see a movie together, Trixie? Nah. That’s not the life she has at this damn school. Why the hell did Samara even have to bring up her biggest mistake? As if Trixie liked to talk about it freely. Fucking annoying.
The way Trixie had exploded had proved those rumors to be true, but it wasn’t enough for Samara. She didn’t know exactly what it was but she knew she needed something more. As she thought about it a little more, she had leaned back into the chair she was sitting in. “I know who I am. Some people spend their entire lives deciding what they need to do for the sake of others. If you’re too bitchy, then people complain; if you’re too nice, they’ll call you a pushover. But do you know what I say to them?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. “I show them my bank account and how the words of the sheep mean very little to people like you and me: the types who will eventually rule this world in every way that matters.” As she spoke, she crossed one leg over the other and smiled.
“So you’re money and power.” Beatrix frowned at that sentiment. Such a skewed perception on life. That being said, Sam wasn’t to blame for that. Her parents were and those she’s surrounded by that never taught her that she was ever wrong. A mentality that a lot of people that are fortunate to have a trust fund, such as herself, have. She was fortunate enough to have parents that chose the wilderness over riches, living in their own little paradise in Alaska. They still made bank, obviously not Green level, but they made a comfortable amount. It was all material to her family, though. They didn’t need money. Or power. They were simply happy helping people. There was a sudden revelation Trixie gained about herself, in this moment. The root of who she was, as a person, when most of her high school career she tried so hard to be like Hailey and Ophelia. The filthy rich world wasn’t for her.
“I feel sorry for you. Yes, I believe we have a right to our opinions, especially as women, but the way you want to go about things sounds kind of… lonely. You choose elements in life that you could lose in a heartbeat. If you didn’t have money, if you didn’t have your family’s influence, where would that leave you?” That was rhetorical too. “Just bitter.” She did agree, that most people were like sheep, harmless creatures going about their everyday life, wanting to be left alone with those they loved. Then there were the wolves. Those who want nothing more than to eat those sheep, like Samara. Trixie didn’t think she was either. She wasn’t as ruthless as a wolf and she wasn’t as vulnerable as a sheep. If she had to choose a life she wanted to live, from this point on, it would be that of a sheepdog. She’d choose protection over predation, because she believed in order to ‘rule the world’ you have to be a positive influence, and care for sheep, wolves, and dogs alike. You had to root for humanity, not just yourself. Man, this was the clearest her mind has ever been and it was all thanks to this random conversation.
“Trixie, dear, I’m not old enough to be bitter, but it’s so wonderful that you recognize my family name has influence.” Samara opted to ignore all of the insults.
What she saw as a negative thing was what drove Samara to become the queen she knew she was destined to become. She grew up knowing she was going to accomplish great things. One thing Trixie was right about was how her family’s money could disappear. All it’d take is a bad business deal gone horribly or a scandal that HartCorp couldn’t come back from, but Sam had more than just that driving her. The girl had her sky’s-the-limit ambition and the confidence to back her up. If she was to be poor one day, then so be it. Money only made her destiny a little brighter but she will become pop royalty eventually.
She stood up and straightened her outfit. She looked at the girl and could only sigh at the disappointment that Beatrice Kingsley turned out to be. “Do me a favor: if you ever find your edge again, come find me. I’d love to talk to that Trixie Kingsley, not this shell she has become.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Trixie smiled, oddly not angry at this confrontation at all. Actually, she was at peace with herself and it felt great. She’d have to tell Owen all about it later. “Sam. If you need someone to talk to, you already know how to find me.” Part of her did think of something clever and edgy to say back, ‘if you ever find your heart, I’ll be waiting to talk to you again’, but she decided to offer a small piece of friendship, if she ever did find herself between a rock and a hard place. Something about this conversation made her understand her cousin, Hailey Green, a bit more too, and honestly? She couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m here, if you need me.”
