The Bad Boy and The Know It All

Chapter 1

Insulation rained down on the party goers like industrial confetti. Girls spun in a dizzying array of vibrant colors and cloying perfumes, Arabella’s head throbbed to the beat of the rap. Despite her best efforts she couldn’t seem to tear herself from the corner. It wasn’t as if she was new to the party scene, she’d spent the whole of her childhood in Colombia after all. She fidgeted with the hem of her beanie, tugging the thick cotton further down her forehead until it engulfed the tops of her glasses. 

When had she lost touch? She’d already been back in the states for nearly a month yet she continued to live out of boxes. ‘Put your Goddamn stuff away or have one of the maids do it for you,’ her father was constantly chiding her. Maybe she didn’t want to put her God damned stuff away. Maybe she didn’t want to come back in the first God damned place.

Her mother was gone and no amount of her father's phony condolences could bring her back. A burring question had been eating her alive these past weeks. Why should she care? Was it wrong that she felt no love for the woman who had sent her one and only daughter hundreds of thousands of miles away to raise herself among her fellow socialite’s unwanted children?

Arabella released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding before pushing back off the wall and bee lining for the door. She didn’t have to worry about weaving through a mass of tangled bodies bopping lamely to some auto tuned pop song.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea clearing a narrow path by which she could escape. She could still feel their lingering gazes as she slipped behind the wheel of her 1964 Jaguar convertible. Well technically the car was her stepmonster's but the Jag was hers until her father could take enough time off work for the two of them to head over to the dealership.

The engine roared to life and Arabella winced at the attention it drew. She wanted a clean slate this time, wanted people to like her for her, not the zeros in her bank account. Of course her looks didn’t help, while Arabella had never thought herself particularly pretty people seemed drawn to her. A friend had once said she had the type of look that had guys wondering if they should take her home to their mother or corrupt the heck out of her. Checking her lipstick in the mirror, she gave a chagrined smile. They were about ten years for that. 

She cranked the radio and pulled down the drive as Frank Ocean filled her speakers. She just had to get through the semester. Starting mid semester wasn’t ideal but at least it meant she would be spending less time at home before high tailing it back to Colombia in the fall.  How different could public school be?

The house was dark by the time she pulled into the drive. It was just past ten and her father was undoubtedly still at the office while the step monster was probably zoinked out on another few Valium. Why her father had married a woman young enough to be her sister was beyond her. She padded softly up the stairs, careful not to slip on the sleek Carrera marble.

Her room was the first off the hall and she was grateful for the fact that she had chosen the smallest of the mansions rooms. Seeing so much wasted space… to much stuff always made her uncomfortable. It was one of the reasons she was so reluctant to return to her father’s extravagant lifestyle. Wrapped in her feather duvet Arabella curled on her side and tried to get some rest, tomorrow she would be entering hell otherwise known as Charmell Flats Charter High.

 Gauzy light cast shadows across the celling. With her mind still clouded by sleep it was easy to close her eyes and simply pretend things were different. Arabella’s throat constricted as she tried to imagine living without Dalia.

The seemingly oblivious girl was like a sister to her. The two had met their first day at the academy. Little more than toddlers, the girls had held onto each other for dear life. Ten years had later and their bond was closer than ever.