Vanity Teens

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty:

For some reason that I was somehow oblivious to, rumours began spreading throughout our ridiculously expensive private school the week after we had all returned from Cornwall. I, being as immensely popular and cool as I am, ignored them, because they were just rumours and I was somehow convinced that they couldn't hurt me. But then again, they weren't all about me.

Most of them were shitty little things about our enclosed gang of rich kids, because that was what we were in this school. Walking down the pristine marble hallways of our academy, that was what we were known as.

And it was funny, because even though the entire student body was 90% rich kids that pay a vast tuition (the other 10% being a scholarship, or something, whatever that was), we were still classed as the rich kids. Because, among the rich, we were the richest. And we all know how important money is in our immaterial world, so when you're the richest, you're the best, and you're also very much on top of the school food-chain.

We basically owned these halls, Vienna especially. She was what you would probably call the Queen Bee. It's so funny and cliche how everyone assumes high-schools have these cliques, but they aren't far off.

Every high-school has its own set of cliques and gangs, and we were no exception. I was a rich kid, and so were most of my friends. Sam, of course, was the exception. The Only Exception (Paramore reference here).

As far as I could tell, he had little money, so he must have gotten in on some scholarship. But he still hanged with us. Others were the goths and the emos, the chavs and the gangsters, the foreigners (that sounds so very racist, but Indians and Asians all tend to stick with the pack, but can you blame them?), and then you have the nerds, the sexy fuckers, and the rich fuckers, and of course, us: the sexy and rich fuckers, we were so amazing that we were both. Mhm.

But that didn't stop the rumours. They were wild and most of them were complete bullshit, but all rumours come from some truth, somewhere. And these certainly did.

None of us knew how people were finding all of this shit out, but it was really pissing me off. The first day back, I was strolling down the halls with Vienna and Benedicta at either side, owning it, all eyes were on me. I mean, they usually are anyway, but that time it wasn't in a good way. They were judging, looking down on me. It was the zebra judging the lion, but lions are always on top.

No sexual pun intended.

I felt like I was being usurped, like the power of our clique was being ripped away because of a few almost true and ghastly rumours that were flying around out of no where.

Not thinking much of the stares, I continued down the corridor and proceeded to my locker. After we were alone, Vienna, Benedicta and I all shot looks at each other. We had all noticed it.

"Those looks," I began.

"I know," Benedicta mumbled.

"Who do they think they are? They are the cattle and I am the farmer, they need to get their asses down! I mean, how dare they look at me like I'm some whore!" Vienna was red-faced with rage.

I smirked at that, but hid it as soon as her cold blue eyes struck a look at me that could kill. Vienna could be so terrifying when she needed to be, so it was no wonder she was Queen Bee. You had to be ruthless to keep that job.

"What do you think it is?"

I felt a tap on my shoulder, so I turned to find Max standing there. His light blond hair was tousled with wax and it looked nice, it brought out his lovely green eyes. They were so lovely. He smiled at me, so I smiled back.