A Story for Writers Craft class, about a girl who was once on top of the world, but loses everything.

Essay by acoreHigh School, 12th gradeA-, November 2009

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Lola"Lola!"I heard my boyfriends booming voice from the other room. "Lola!"I stopped looking for my uniform for a minute and took a deep breath.

"Yes Tyler?" I said, trying to remain cheerful despite coming dangerously close to being late for work.

Just as I was stuffing my uniform into my pink-and-green plaid, special order Dakine backpack, all six-feet-four-inches of Andrew burst into the room.

"Okay, girl, how many times am I gonna tell you? I want none of that Tyler shit. It's T-King, at all times. That or Royal-T. Or you can just call me King, for short. Or maybe just T--""And how many times do I have to tell you?" I interrupted, "I'm not calling you by your last name. I'm not calling you by your first initial, I'm calling you Tyler. Because it's on your birth certificate. And besides," I playfully grabbed him by the chin.

"It's so cute."Tyler rolled his eyes and looked away from me.

"Whatever," he said.

I sighed, zipped up my bag and headed toward the door. Yeah, he was jerk sometimes, but I really did love him.

"Oh, what were you yelling about a minute ago? You've gotta make it quick, Tyler, I'm gonna be late.""Well, I was thinkin', about how you got all these... connections, you know, from the Frost guy, right?""The Frost guy". He was behaving in the strange uneasy, jealous way he always did when the subject of my ex husband came up.

"Uh-huh" I said impatiently while heaving my bag over my shoulder. "Seriously, I'm gonna be late.""I was thinkin' I could use a new car. Maybe a Bentley.""Woah, honey, do you know how much a Bentley is? Since when do you have half a million dollars?""Well you got all that money from...