P.S. I hate you! (lesbian story)

Isabelle

"Réveillez - vous Mademoiselle Parrier. Il est 7 heures déjà!" ("Wake up Miss Parrier. It is 7 o'clock already!")

"Uuuugh! It is so early, I want to sleep." Isabelle groaned as she fluttered her eyes open. Morning sun peered through the windows in her room as her maid Brigitte pulled heavy maroon curtains aside. She blinked a few times and stretched on her bed. Pushing herself up, she leaned on the headboard trying to get rid of sleep.

Senior year here I come, Isabelle chuckled groggily.

"Mademoiselle..." Isabelle vaguely realized Brigitte was saying something in French.

"Why the hell do you always speak in French to me Brigitte?" Isabelle groggily snapped at her maid.

"Mademoiselle vous savez..." ("Miss you know...") Brigitte started but was cut off rudely by agitated and dismissive wave of brunette's delicate hand.

"Oh just stop it, it is too early in the morning for me to put up with my mother's nonsense".

She knew that she was being a bitch but her mother's conceited ideas annoyed her indefinitely. She was never even around and she had to put up with her obnoxious crap. Brigitte just gave her a small apologetic smile.

Now she felt even worse, after all Brigitte had no other option but to follow her mother's orders.

"Ok, ok I am sorry for being so cranky, you know how I am in the morning." Isabelle sighed almost emphatically. She ran her fingers through her slightly ruffled morning hair. "Anyway what did you ask me?" 

"Je vous ai demandé si vous vouliez du thé ou du café?" ("I asked if you would like some coffee or some tea?") Brigitte repeated.

While suppressing a groan of frustration at her maid speaking in French again, Isabelle decided not to start the day with negativity, and just go with her mother's wishes...for now. Little did she know that her day will get screwed up anyways.

"Oh, du café, ça ira, merci Brigitte." ("Oh, some coffee would be good, thank you Brigitte.") she said finally with a fake smile. Nowadays she felt that that was the only type of smile she gave to people. Her days became series of pretended politeness and faux smiles. 

In a way Isabelle understood why her mother insisted on her speaking French. Both of her parents were French and they moved to US when she was six, so they (that is her mother) didn't want her to forget her mother tongue. Isabelle was their only child and considering that she came from a quite wealthy, old French family she had top notch education. As the result she was proficient in French, English, Italian and Spanish. She was always the smarty pants, the first one to raise her hand in class, the one who got straight As, a member of a few clubs, the president of student council.  And that was probably the reason why other kids never warmed up to her. However, they respected her, she taught them how to, in her, well, one may say unconventional ways.  

IsabelIe took out her uniform which neatly hung in her closet. Sadly she didn't get to wear any of her designer clothes most of the days, since she went to St. Helen's Academy, which was a private high school, and of course students were required to wear uniforms. She put on her knee long dark blue skirt,  white blouse, dark blue blazer, and finally she fastened fashionable dark blue bow tie around her neck. The uniform didn't really show of her beautiful curves, but it still suited her pretty well. She decided to let her brown curls fall loose down her back today. Finally she applied some light makeup and she was ready to go.

She grabbed her school bag and went downstairs to the kitchen to quickly grab something to eat. Brigitte already prepared breakfast for her, and wonderful smell of warm toast, eggs Benedict and coffee greeted her. She sipped on her coffee and took small bites of her toast and eggs while checking the latest news on her laptop. She liked to be informed about important world events.