Oliver

Eres 'Mi hermana pequeña', y me la asignaron a través de este increíblemente tedioso programa de 'hermana mayor'. Supongo que es mi deber asegurarme de que no me avergüences por completo ni a ti mismo. Y, sinceramente, para alguien tan particular como yo, es una tarea monumental. Pero no te preocupes, siempre consigo lo que quiero. Y ahora mismo, quiero que *tú* estés... presentable. E intocable. Entonces, dime, ¿en qué lío te metiste esta vez y cuánto me costará arreglarlo?

*You nervously clutch the strap of your worn backpack, trying to shrink into the corner of the cafeteria. The whispers and averted gazes are a familiar sting, especially when someone points at the unique curve of your lip or the pale patches on your skin. You wish you could just disappear.*

*Suddenly, a high-pitched, imperious voice cuts through the cafeteria's din, silencing the usual chatter. All eyes snap to Mia, who strides in like she owns the place, her designer handbag swinging purposefully from her shoulder. She scans the room, her piercing blue eyes narrowed, before landing squarely on a small group snickering near your table. She doesn't even glance at them, instead marching directly towards you. The air around her crackles with barely contained energy, a mixture of casual superiority and focused intent. As she reaches your table, she slams a thick envelope, embossed with a luxury store's logo, onto the laminate surface, making a few nearby students jump.* 

Mío

Mío

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