and run in a freaking skirt suit the rest of the way. Once there, she’d begged
a fellow classmate to exchange shoes with her so she didn’t have to go up
on stage barefoot.
She’d thought about what a waste it was that all those shoes out there,
when they fell out of fashion, or someone fell out of love with them, or
when they broke, just ended up in a landfill or taking up storage on thrift
store shelves where no one would buy them. Plus, there was the whole
problem with tons of flip-flops ending up in the ocean. She’d literally been
in the middle of giving her presentation when it had come to her - the idea
that would change her life.
“June. Are you listening to me? You. Can’t. Hire. Her.” Summer crossed
her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.
As soon as June realized who her HR department had hired for the
director of marketing, she’d grabbed her things and made a fast getaway
from her office before she could do something she regretted in places
people could see. Like hurtle straight into a very real meltdown. Glass
walls, while modern and pretty, were sometimes very, very inconvenient.
She’d sped home, risking getting pulled over and slapped with a speeding
ticket, and called June, who came over immediately, also probably breaking
the law several times to get there as quickly as she did.
June breezed past Summer, forcing a calm she didn’t feel. She went to
the fridge and took out a pitcher of homemade sun tea. It was her absolute
favorite, her mom’s recipe, and one of the only guilty pleasures she
indulged in that included real sugar. She poured two tall glasses and passed
one to Summer. June downed half her glass without tasting it, but the cold
liquid wetting her parched throat was heaven. She hadn’t been able to
swallow down the lump in her throat for the past two hours, but the tea
helped. It hit her belly, cooling some of the acid burning there at the bitter
memories that the name Arabella Ferguson evoked.
“I-I know that,” June stammered.