You know those stories that they write about the girl from the wrong side of the tracks that is rescued by the rich good looking boy, or even vice versa, with the rich head cheerleader who falls for the bad boy of the school? Yeah, you know those stories that are filled with romance and happy endings? Well whoever wrote my high school life certainly didn't read any of those.
I mean, don't get me wrong, besides outbreaks of my special quirk, High School was a good time, and I went on a few dates throughout my four years, but I never met the boy of my dreams; the one who was my destiny for the rest of my life. Heck, I never even met a boy who was my destiny for an hour. I went to an all girl high school. That's probably why I did so well in school. By the time I got into college I just wanted to get it over with. I had plenty of friends, but I didn't really go for the keggers or frat parties. Which made me an overachiever and I graduated a year early. Hurray for me. Yeah. Right. Sure. Whatever.
So now, here we are. I'm newly 21 years of age, I live in Los Angeles, and I have a job working with Moll Davis. Yes, that is a smug tone I'm using. You heard me correctly; I got a job working for the most noted PR executive in California. The PR executive known for her exclusive and well known clientele. I start the job Monday. At this stage I'm sure that I'll most probably be a glorified gofer, but my title sounds nice. I'm going to be a Personal Assistant. Not a secretary, oh no, someone else gets to type. I get to personally assist. I don't really know what that means, but it sounds cool, and I get to travel. Now I can only hope that my quirk goes away.
Oh, I suppose you're wondering about that. Well, see, I tend to be a bit accident prone. Quite a bit actually. Ok, so to be perfectly honest I could sprain something just standing still. As for breaking things, yeah, my Grandma Mimi, she doesn't like for me to come to her house. Something about a vase I destroyed when I was in grade school. She loves me, but when we get together it's at a restaurant. My parents died when I was really little, but I'm not one of those poor orphan stories who grew up without anyone to understand and love me. My Aunt Stella raised me. She's very cool.
So, here we are, it's the Saturday night before I start my new job and my cousin has decided to drag me out to the bar. My first bar. We were getting lots of stares, but then, what man alive wouldn't stare at a tall slender woman with looks that were perfection and long auburn hair. Yeah, not me, my cousin, Sienna. Now, have any of you ever noticed that the really perfect, stunningly beautiful girls out there have really different names? You know names like Brittany, Tiffany, or perhaps, Sienna?
No, I'm the other one. I stand at 5'1", and that's stretching it a bit. So, yeah, I'm short. I've always thought that it would only be fair that when you reach a certain age you gain a couple of inches or something. No self respecting adult wants to admit that they're 5'1". I've got a good body, but that comes from years of kick boxing and running. Being short meant I was always slower, so I took up running to compensate. I'm pretty quick if I do say so myself. I wish my boobs were bigger, but then they're bigger than perfect Sienna's so HA! I get told I'm cute. Wide navy blue eyes, a nice nose, not too small but not too large, and a cupids bow mouth. People tell me I have a heart shaped face, whatever the heck that means. Oh, my hair, I have tons of the stuff. It's really light blonde, but it's all natural. Scandinavian roots wouldn't you know. It's all straight and doesn't curl very easily, so I just let it fall down my back.
Little did I know that my life would be changing in so many ways just by taking that job with Moll Davis.
My name? Oh didn't I mention that? I'm Amelia. Amelia Carson. And if you're interested, this is my story…