Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s OIivia here. I thought, that I’d start letting you know how I’m doing, given that neither of you are here.
I’m seventeen now and so much has happened in the last five years since I last saw you, that I need to think where to start.
I know, I can start with what I look like. Annie says that I look a mirror image of you, mom. She watches the Bold and the Beautiful, when she should be doing the laundry and freezes every time Dr. Taylor Hayes Forrester comes on.
Annie says that my “penetrating” green eyes (I think that I look like a frog) and amazing cheekbones, come straight from you and that I should be thankful for my Cherokee Indian heritage. It’s so hard sometimes though, because I hear them all (Aunt Victoria’s friends that is) call me half-breed behind my back, in amongst their orders of celeri remoulade, coq au vin, sweatbreads, and iles du neige.
Aunt Victoria, says that I should just ignore them, but it still hurts. I haven’t ever done anything to them. I even try and dress in pearls and wear the same pink lipstick they all do, but it still doesn’t make any difference. I even wanted to cut my hair short, but Aunt Victoria has strictly forbidden me to even consider it, saying that my thick mane of hair is enough to make anyone swoon.
Today, Biffy, Muffy, Tweedy or Queenie (I can’t keep up with their names anymore) told me off for eating. Yes, eating, because that’s something they never do. “Remember not to bite into the scone,” the scowling lady with plumped lips in pale blue tweed and scary sunglasses said. “Break it into small enough pieces to put into your mouth. And spread the jam on your plate, not directly on the scone,” before the rest of them shot me a filthy look like I was eating off the floor. I was only hungry. Anyway, Uncle Preston has banned Victoria from taking me to any more lunches, so that’s that. I couldn’t be happier to be honest.
I live with Preston and Victoria Carter, who are now my legal guardians, but you should still know that, dad. Our apartment, is a duplex, measuring about 8,987 square feet, located on the 19th floor of the building on the Upper East Side. I love to read books and this area has been immortalized so well, in the novels of Truman Capote and Edith Wharton. Let’s just say it took me a long time to settle in. The place was too huge for me when I first got here, so I sort of moved into my walk-in closet for a while. Annie really helped back then. So did Lucien.
I don’t know if you ever knew the Borgia Family? Anyway, Lucien Borgia is my best friend, my only friend if I’m honest. He’s looked out for me ever since I arrived here, five years ago. He’s really protective and I feel so safe when he’s around, mostly because a lot of the other kids are really scared of him and his friends. I don’t know why. He’s got a lanky body, pointy ears and bulging lips.
Last week in the toilets, I overheard a girl say that his darky sexy eyes and intensity made her feel all dizzy. It’s really weird, because this week, that same girl won’t talk about him. When the other girls teased her, she said his eyes were wild and that he was evil, before running off, crying. I think she must be doing drugs or something. I do keep catching Lucien staring at me sometimes, but I don’t think he means anything by it.
Anyway, school is back again tomorrow after summer break, so wish me luck. Maybe this year will be different….
I love you,