AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not worried about Harriet.” I shook my head. “Harriet said crazier stuff than that.”
“True,” she said, laughing. “So you really don’t want to be an attorney?”
“I mean, I don’t know. You know my dream is always to be a published author. And while attorneys make a lot of money, is it really going to leave me enough time to write?”
Chelsea stared at me for a couple of seconds.
“I don’t know, girl. I’ve never been an attorney or even cared about being one.”
She put her hairbrush down and walked over to me.
“Look, do this internship, and if you really don’t like it, you can say, ‘Hey, having had this work experience, I decided I don’t want to go to law school.’”
“True,” I said, nodding slowly.
“Plus you’re going to make money, right?”
“Yeah. The money’s not bad, either.”
“See? And…” She paused.
“What?” I asked her.
“Maybe your book can have something to do with the law firm.”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “My book is a coming-of-age story about a girl whose father died in a fire and how she’s trying to—”
“Can her father not have been an attorney?” she cut me off.
“I guess so.” I paused.
“Or maybe her love interest can be an attorney.”
I thought for a couple of seconds.
“Oh my gosh. What if she decides to sue the home builders that built the house or the electrical company for faulty wiring, which is what caused the fire, which caused her dad to die, and then she has to get an attorney to sue them, and that’s who she falls in love with?”
Chelsea stared at me for a couple of seconds and nodded slowly.
“I mean, that could work, too. I was more thinking, what if she decides to become a kick-ass attorney and take the case on herself? But she couldn’t take the case on until she went to law school and got her degree, and even though she hated it, she did it because she knew she wanted to get revenge for her father and…” She paused. “Well, you get my drift.”
“Yeah. I mean, that also works, but I think my idea is better.”
“Well, you are the writer.”
“But I’m not a published writer yet,” I said, sighing. “If I’ll ever be one.”
“You will, Polly. You’re talented.”
“I don’t know about that. My English professor gave me a C on my last poem.”
“Oh, a C. That sucks.”
“I know. I never get Cs. It’s always Bs or As.”
“Well, you did get a couple of Fs that one time. Remember when we were in high school and—”
“Really, Chelsea?” I said, glaring at her.
