Fragmented narrative with no clear actionable allegations

ERSON unning off to do something sr already that there’s nothing grant—a self-made man who wise to the ways of the world ughters. They're good girls, he he knows, they don’t drink. love clothes and, especially, tado, Maroon 5, the boy band y loves California, which she’s She just knows she'll live there th her father as long as Mary chores. e meantime, is the crowd that sible than most American boys is another story. Mary’s father ld have liked her even less had ms. sid Mary, she can make more a day: “This guy in Palm Beach. rplane. He owns an island, you inland, away from the Florida ‘beyond the dull, scrubby flat- ying details, and dialogue have been ms ae Fa = FirtHy RicH lands and strip malls she’s grown up around. There’s so much that she wants to do and see. But for her the Gold Coast, twenty miles away, might as well be another country. “Yes,” she had said, without even thinking about it. Then there was Joe to contend with. “Who is this guy?” Joe had said, shaking his head. “You don't know a thing about him.” “Hundreds of dollars,” Mary had whispered. She couldn't quite look at Joe, but she was firm: “I can make that in one hour.” Joe seemed to think they were actually talking about it. A conversation — some back-and-forth. But the thought of not going hadn't even crossed Mary’s mind. If anything, she hoped that it would become a regular thing. “To rub his feet? Are you kidding? If you’re not worried about it, why haven't you told your dad?” “It’s your cousin, Joe! Some girls go three times a week.” “The guy’s feet must be killing him.” “Shut up!” “Tell your father.” “You know how Dad is. You don't tell your parents everything.” “Tm not going to some freak’s mansion to rub his feet.” “That’s right. I am.” “And if I told your father? Or mine?” “You'd never see me again.” Mary felt bad as she said it. She felt bad for lying. She knew that it would be more than a foot rub. Wendy had told her that much, at least. I] HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_019127