Rich Girl

You know what rich girls are like; snobby, horrible and thinks they are better than everyone else? Yeah well Chelsea is your typical rich girl. But see what happens when she starts to get a taste of her own medicine!


1. Annoying Sister

Chelsea's POV

"Chelsea! Mummy told me to come wake you and tell you it's seven."

I ignore my little sister's irritating voice and roll over. She begins to shake me roughly so I open my eyes, roll over in my bed so my face is now barely apart from hers and scowl furiously.

"What's wrong Chelsea? You don't look too happy," she backs away slightly.

"Too right I'm not happy. If you don't get out of my

 room in three seconds I will kill you," I throw one of my silk pillows at her back aggressively as she runs out my room.
I push back my covers and let my feet drop to the cream carpet. My sister is so annoying. She has one of those sing song voices that just goes right through you. Her name is sapphire and she shows off about it because our parents named her after a stone and not me. I couldn't care less! I like the name Chelsea, I don't need no fancy name. I have everything I could possible need already; my parents are rich, I have a huge house with a built in swimming pool and not only do I have amazing friends, but I have the worlds best boyfriend. His name is Niall Horan and he is such a sweetheart.
I comb out my lovely, long, shiny brown hair.It comes down to just above my stomach. I quickly run the curlers over the bottoms to give it that nice wave.
I'm naturally beautiful anyway so I don't necessarily need make up but I feel naked without it so I swipe a little bit of mascara on. I do however need some colour to my cheeks so I pop some rosy blusher on.   I rummage through my walk in wardrobe trying to find a nice outfit for today's weather; dry but dull.
I pick out a sleeveless black top and really short denim shorts. I throw a silky leopard print scarf round my neck and slip on my favourite navy toms.   Grabbing my jacket and bag, I head downstairs to the welcoming smell of toast.
"Morning mum, thanks."
I nibble on my toast, taking sips of orange juice every now and then.
"Morning," she replies.
"Morning Chelsea," my sister sings.
I just shoot her a look of pure annoyance.
"Mummy, she's being mean!"
"I did nothing of the sort, I'm happily eating my breakfast. I don't need you telling tales now do I!"
She huffs and runs off to watch TV.
"Bye mum."
"Phone!" She reminds me.
"Oh crap, yeah!" I dash upstairs to grab my phone.
"Ommm, Chelsea swore mummy," I hear my sister moan from the living room.
"I heard her perfectly well darling, but that word isn't so bad."
"So I can say it? Crap crap crap cr-"
"But mummy you said it isn't so bad."
"Yes for Chelsea to say, she is a lot older than you!"
"She's only sixteen!"
"Yeah, old enough! You are eight."
I laugh silently as I leave the house.
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