e l i t e s / T. Shelby / The Brat Pack

three * ˚ ✦

They were intrigued by their unique friends. They were all beautiful, of course, the daughters of respectable aristocrats like them, but there was something different. Irene's eyebrows furrowed as she studied how Daphne's eyes were different from her and her sister's and how Daphne's skin has a slight tinge of soft yellow. How Tabitha and Ana's sun-kissed skins glowed under the chandelier. They studied their friends and their parents. How all of them represents something different, a difference Irene didn't know was something very crucial in her growing up.

Irene and Isabelle shrugged after that, not really putting too much thought into it. And they went on to play with their new friends, already closer with them. Laughing, sharing toys and such.

Later that night, in the girls' bedroom, already dressed in their nightgowns, little Imogen asked a question with her sweet voice; yes, Imogen was just a little girl back then. Not the bitch she turned out to be. "Mama, why are Tabitha, Daphne, and Anamarie different from us? Why are their mums not like you?"

Mama sighed as she looked at papa; in return, he gave her a slight nod. As she made her way to little Imogen perked up on her bed, surrounded by plush toys, papa made her way to Irene's bed, where she perked up as well.

Mama looked at her three daughters, one by one, "Listen, my beautiful girls. There will always be people who are different from you, in any shape or form. But those are only differences. We are all the same, humans. The only difference is what God decides to grace us with. That's it. We are all the same, remember that. We eat what they eat. And they drink what we drink. You see this, yes?"

The three girls nodded.

"And remember, any variations of what God has graced anyone with, it's all beautiful." Mama continued, caressing Imogen's cheeks. Papa smiled, nodding his head, a puff of smoke coming out of his mouth. "I don't want any of my children to treat somebody differently only because they're different from them, especially when that difference is something physical, understood?"

"Yes, papa." The girls chimed together. Their Mama and papa leaned on each other, beaming with pride and joy. Mama kissed them one by one, "Alright, bonne nuit, mon Coeur. Beaux rêves!"

"Bonne Nuit, mama, papa!" once again, the three girls chimed in together.

That night, the three girls lived by their parents' words. They would never treat someone differently only because they were different, especially when that difference is something the matter with the eyes.

The Grosvenor girls found themselves the friends of their lives. They grew older together—each other leaning on one another like pieces of dominos. Having the same tutors attending the same independent school, countless sleepovers have made the six girls glued together. Like sisters, only born from different mamas and papas.

Their fancy clothes, jewellery, and things, and how they later would carry themselves in society with an air of sovereignty and aristocracy, only demanding the best in anything, have earned their group the name "The Brat Pack."

And they relish it.

Not even feeling slightly offended by the name.

.

Present-day

That night, after supper, The Brat Pack piled into Irene's bed, with a bottle of Moet being passed around. Reminiscing their school day memories. Days when they were just teenage girls with hormones all over the place, days when the Brat Pack would do stupid and irresponsible things and - because they're daughters of aristocrats - would get away with it. Irene recalled when they were 17 years of age, still a student in the famous-among-world-leaders independent school, Le Rosey, they would have these sleepless nights.

Whether it's because of one of Irene's recurring fear, Isabelle's mental breakdowns, Daphne's secret crush, Tabitha's insecurities, or Anamarie's crazy dreams, they would always be there for each other. Crazy as it is, the Brat Pack have always been placed in the same room each year, making their little 'getaway' easier.

If one of them is experiencing one of these sleepless nights, they will all escape the shackles of their rooms. They would sneak out, climb up to the ceilings, and they would share some laughs and some cigarettes.

"Remember when the youngest Prince of Prussia took a liking toward Irene?" Isabelle teased while braiding her sister's hair.

"God, I remember that. I feel sorry for turning him down; I mean, he was loads of years older than me. I was bloody seventeen at the time!" They all shared a laugh.

Tabitha took a swig of Moet, "Goodness, we were such heartbreakers! Breaking at least a dozen of hearts."

"And that's only per month." Daphne chimed in.

"Oh my God, remember when it was winter, and we had the dance? Daphne was caught shoving her tongue down your brother's throat in the dark. I mean, our shy Daphne!" They grimaced at that particular memory, not cause the image of Daphne and Robert is horrifying - if anything, they've been rooting for the two to get together.

It didn't last long, the relationship. As Robert was seen with another lady. In a much more compromising position. He Broke Daphne's heart. Even until now, Robert's own sisters would still scorn him about the decision he made.

"Trust us, Daph, Robert has been well scolded at." Daphne rolled her eyes on this one.

They spent the whole night talking about the good and bad that went on throughout their youth, careful to not bring up Irene's incident and the Duchess of Grosvenor's death. They would mostly laugh, and little bits of tears were spent tipsy from the Moet. Their colourful Rosey days, little gossips were dropped regarding their aristocratic friends, University days.

The scrutiny they faced on the first day of university, as the year 1920 was the first-year Oxford University allowed women to attend the same classes as men. "They would just terribly frown at us, and I find it really, just hilarious, i-"

A knock came on the door, "Yes?"

Came in Magdalena, the head of housekeeping at Grosvenor House. "My Lady, your father has requested for me to say, and I quote him here, 'Shut your mouths and go to bed',

The girls chuckled.

"And he also mentioned you girls will be leaving London early in the morning, so it's better to be well-rested for the long journey north."

"Right, thank you, Maggy."

"Certainly, My Lady." The middle-aged woman turns and takes her to leave.

The girls leave Irene's bedroom, heading to their separate ones facing each other in the long corridor. Isabelle looked back to Irene, smiling at her as she always would every time it's time to turn the lights off, "You'll be alright?"

Irene chuckles, "Yes, I'll be alright. I've my little night light. Now go!" Isabelle smiled as she closes the door.

As she was a bit tipsy, Irene turned on her little nightlight at the table near her windows with staggering steps. The light bright enough to tinge the room a bit orange, not too bright to flash Irene's delicate eyes. Then, with a sharp breath - as every night would -, Irene turned the lights off. Hurrying to get into her bed.

With one last swig of Moet, Irene fell into a deep slumber.