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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.