"I promise you, sir, we didn't know she was human…"
"These sleazy little children ruined my phone!" she yelled, dangling a badly damaged Android in our faces. I leaned in closer, and Sheila did the same.
By God, it was an iPhone 15 Pro Max!
Even if I saved up my allowance for the next 68 years, worked my butt off at every café I could find, and spent the rest of my life not eating or drinking, I'd never be able to afford to replace it. It was already too damaged to be fixed. I squeezed my eyes shut in surrender, moaning.
When did my life go from this to that?
WHAT IS THAT?!
"What's your name again, young lady?" Director Lee, a handsome Korean man in a dazzling leather jacket, asked, beaming. Beaming? Is this just his way of saying, "Let's keep the smiles real... for now"?
"Uhm… Daisy Thompson?"
"I'm Sheila Burns," Sheila gulped. Director Lee scribbled something across the clipboard. Our death sentences, perhaps?
"You do understand that Miss Roberts here is a vital part and core of this project, right?"
"Who?" I asked, and he nodded at the woman holding the phone. "You mean 'robot woman'… Miss Roberts?" I blurted out, blinking and avoiding her stern gaze. "Y… yes, I do."
"You young ladies broke a phone worth a million dollars. How do you intend to replace that?"
"A million what?" Sheila and I screamed in unison. A million dollars?…
Not even a hundred years of washing, scrubbing, and cleaning—plus ditching lunch, breakfast, and dinner—would get me anywhere close to paying off this debt.
Oh, you clumsy rat! Do I have to sell Dad to get the money? As appealing and long-awaited as that opportunity seems, the highest I'd ever get for Dad's head is a crumpled five-dollar bill squeezed out from a sleazy old drunk at a yard sale.
Unless I sell our house… oh, cruds. Dad signed it over as collateral for a new set of Italian speakers.
Seems like you're all on your own, Daisy. Abso-posi-lotuely on your own.
"How do you intend to pay for this damage, Miss Thompson? And you, Miss Burns? You are well aware that a million dollars is not that easy to come by."
"It's only an iPhone," Sheila moaned, and Miss Roberts glared at her.
"An iPhone? It is a collectible, you idiot. I was going to ship it to the National Museum of Phone Artifacts. That there, my friends, is the most expensive version of the iPhone ever made, and I was going to contribute it to the museum's artifact display scheduled for tomorrow. And that is what you clumsy idiots ruined," she snapped. I smiled. Yay! At least 'robot lady' talks and doesn't just glare.
But that doesn't mean my million-dollar—or rather half-a-million-dollar—debt has been waived. And considering the fact that she actually said something to me, as insulting as it was, that's progress.
"Do you have your parents' number? Anyone we can call?" Director Lee asked. Parents' number? Well, that's interesting. Let's see…
I closed my eyes and tried to picture Dad's reaction to the news.
Under the influence of movies:
Dad: "What tha… wait, did that man just fire a bow at the chicken? Now, back to what you were saying—you did what?"
Under the influence of plain old oatmeal:
Dad: "Are these oats good or what? Did you say they cost a million dollars again? Or what were we talking about here?"
Under the influence of… nothing:
Dad: "You owe a debt of one million dollars? Well, my trip to Hawaii's proven to be a necessity, not just a want! Do you know where my passports are, Daisy? Oh… I don't have a passport."
So, no. My dad's going to be of absolutely NO help to me. I might as well be an orphan. I bet if they call, he'll probably be staring at his pajama bottoms with a piggy sticker pasted across the butt part.
I shook my head, and Sheila stared at me.
"I could call my mom," she offered. I spun around to face Miss Roberts.
"I don't have anyone to call," I moaned, pulling the saddest face I could muster. "I've been orphaned all my life, and I have to work my butt off in every café I can find just to survive." I grabbed her arms, and she flinched. Sheila watched me, chuckling. "Please give me a chance to work for you, to pay you back. I can do ANYTHING. I will do ANYTHING!"
"Anything, you say?" someone said, bumping in from behind. I spun around and let out a gasp.
Harry from Styles Models?
Could the world get any smaller?