Reality Show Lovers (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 1

*Update: This is an edited version of chapter 1, which was originally posted on 2014 (5 YEARS AGO?!) This story is undergoing a lot of revisions and changes because I truly want to continue it & make it BETTER for ya'll as well.*

Reality Show Lovers

In a world where almost everything is curated, it's easy to lose yourself & hard to find yourself.

Chapter 1

"Why the fuck are you so slow today," I mutter to myself as I attempt to pedal faster. I check my watch. 7:22 a.m. I have eight more minutes until the Monday assembly would start. I dislike two things: Mondays and being late. Given my situation, you could say I wasn't having the best start to my week.

As usual, mom wanted me to take the car, but I always insist on using my bike. My neighborhood was a good fifteen minute bike ride to school, which is good for exercise. Today, however, I should have used the car. Sweat brimmed my forehead and my legs throbbed. I was in a rush, which I never enjoy.

As my legs burn, my arms ache and sweat rolls off my body, the streets of Los Angeles come by in a flash. Normally, I would enjoy this Instagram-worthy view that looked like a part of a Netflix chick-flick movie montage. The palm trees, blue skies, hot sun, crowded beaches, and line of shops just look like a blur of colors that only hurt my head right now.

The cars next to me come to a stop. I wait in the same spot for two whole minutes that seemed like forever until I realiz that I have to make a move. In the grand scheme of things, being late is not the worst thing. It's more of a personal preference that I be on time and avoid possible judgement. Being late is a kind of thing that gives me social anxiety, so I try to prevent it at all costs.

15 seconds until the light turns green. Even though the thing I was about to do was risky, I take a deep breath and decide to go on with it anyways.

I wedge myself in between two cars they both honk their horns at me.

"Sorry!" I shout at them as I look back momentarily. "Assholes."

A car almost hits my side into me but it abruptly stops, making me shriek and swerve. I continue pedaling even though the stoplight turns into red. I brace myself before speeding down the road amidst the angry drivers honking at me.

In two minutes, I finally bypass all the traffic and take a right turn, heading towards the gates of California Richwood High.

California Richwood High. The name itself is self-explanatory. It is literally the school for privileged and the occasional gifted, built by the generous contributions of the rich and famous. Across the country, it's known as the "school for the kids of CEOs, actors, businessmen, doctors, etc." As exclusive as it sounds, it's quite diverse because of all the different races, religions, and cultures. You're in if you have the money, of if you're good at something in particular, whether that's academics or extracurriculars.

Yes, you could say I'm a rich kid. No, I'm not spoiled and did not buy my way into my school unlike other kids of celebrities. I'm privileged, all from the hard work of my parents. My dad, Jonathan Rivers, used to be a construction worker but now owns his own company that produces this kind of cheap, eco-friendly cement. My mother was some sort famous 80's teenage sitcom star who occasionally acts these days and now owns her own skin-care line. And me? I'm really just an average girl. Seriously, I'm not even kidding. Not even a little bit. I'm objectively averagely appealing, get decent grades, and my personality is nothing extreme. I'm no social butterfly or a complete loner.  I have no special talent nor am I a genius at anything specifically. I'm not popular, but I do have an awesome set of friends. Almost everyone here has famous or rich parents, and it oftentimes feels like an unspoken competition with everyone else.