Happy first night of Chanukah, for those of you who celebrate it. Today, I’m back with the second chapter of my story that has yet to be named. Also, I know… I’m being extremely inconsistent with my graphics, but right now, I’m currently exploring the vast complications of mostly self taught photo editing, so once I’ve figured out a little more, I’ll decide on an actual system. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy reading this second part of my story, and I’d of course love to hear your feedback!
Samara loved her grandparents, but sometimes, it was just too much. Going to their mansion in Beverly hills was really overwhelming. Her grandmother insisted that they fly in her family’s private jet, and her father didn’t want to argue. Her mother, who had grown up with the luxuries of the daughter of a millionaire, was used to the high life, but when the kids at school talked about bad mid-flight meals, or really long delays, she could only pretend to understand. Her only friend who knew about her family’s wealth was Milo, and he didn’t care about how influential her ancestors had been and that she, an only child, would grow up to inherit one of the largest companies in the United States; Brinkmann textiles.
Even though she was the daughter of Christine Brinkmann, the granddaughter of Melissa Brinkmann, and the great-granddaughter of her namesake Samara Brinkmann, she did not take after the previous leaders of Brinkmann textiles. Samara loved the outdoors, and was very involved in clubs at school, volunteering at local animal shelters, organised clothing drives and wrote letters to the editor of her local newspaper about the importance of the three R’s.
What upset her, however, was that for however much she reduced, reused and recycled, her family business wasted a thousand times as much. She swore that once she was in charge of Brinkmann textiles, she would make some big changes.
That weekend at her grandparents, however, hadn’t been so bad. Her grandparents gave her yet another expensive jewelry set, this time ruby, which she had insisted she didn’t need and would never wear, but they gave to her anyways. Her grandfather took her to play golf at his private golf course, which wasn’t fantastic, but better that an online tour of the Brinkmann textile’s new headquarters, which as her grandmother put it was “an interactive experience that will aid you in your future when you take charge of this wonderful trade.” Sure.
Her grandmother took her to the mall and told her that her budget for the day was 500 dollars. She blinked. That much money could buy back to school materials for a lot of kids, who might not necessarily have the money to pay for the needed supplies. She said so, and her grandmother responded that they’d find the money to pay for their own stuff if they really needed it. Samara was fed up with her insensitive family so she said she’d walk home. Her grandmother wouldn’t allow her so she rode home in her private limousine. Her grandmother said she was exhausted, so she sat in the built in massage chair. To Samara, the afternoon had felt like a joke.
When she got out of the limo, she began to walk down the block. She passed one of the smaller houses and noticed a girl who looked about her age sitting in front of the semicircle of tall trees. A bunch more kids, that looked like they were around her age or younger ran around playing games. “Hi,” she said. “Nice car.” Samara didn’t really know how to respond, so Samara thanked her. She kept up, trying to strike a conversation. “Do you live around here?” She asked.
“No,” Samara replied, “just visiting my grandparents.”
“Me too!” She seemed happy to have something in common. The girl began to ask Samara about the construction that had been going on on the house, but Samara was not in the mood to talk, so she told the girl she had to go, and left.
When she got back to her grandparents house, she started to read a book, but couldn’t stop thinking about what the girl had began to say about the construction. “Now the house is even bigger than it was before!” A kind of obvious statement, but she had a point. Memories of visiting the house every year were mostly of her grandparents, but the house had been big. Tearing it down and rebuilding just gave the leeway for bigger parties, the basement parking garage for more cars even though most of the neighbors lived in biking or walking distance, and the three pools just looked cool on google maps. Well, the pools she understood, even though she and her parents were the only ones who ever swam in them. There was a hot tub, and lap pool and a pool with a diving board and mini water slide. It was cool, and they did have a solar water heater.
So what if she was the richest girl in her school. It wasn’t like she wanted to use the money to buy an enormous mansion and never do any work! She already knew exactly what she was going to do when she was older: she and Milo would live far out in the wilderness and live off the land. Milo’s older sister Wendy would also help out, but mostly, they would be on their own. If their parents ever would let them. Her grandma would probably have a heart attack if she even suggested going camping at the hospital’s front lawn, and Milo was still ‘too young, and too immature, and would distract Wendy from her goals.’ The odds were against them, but they knew that someday it would work out. They just didn’t know when, and they had no idea that it would be so soon.
Are you writing any stories right now? What do you think about mine? Chat with me in the comments below!