A C Q U A I N T A N C E S
My life was lifeless. I had no social life. No fun. No risks were ever taken. Everything had to be precise, my life was planned; what university I was going to, the kind of man I was chosen to marry and what I’ll succeed in life. My parents alienated me, they created me to be a prim and proper girl. A girl that was never allowed to choose her own path in life, I may as well have been a transcript, something with everything planned before it has even taken place. I had no soul, not a single bit of fun – unless you count family parties and planned proposals. Until Vanessa. She brought out the best in me…or perhaps it was the worst?
Completing a swipe of blusher across my flourishing face, I grabbed my pre-packed bag and grasped onto the aluminium banister, as I glided swiftly down the staircase. Maids clattered around the kitchen, whilst I placed a perfectly polished apple into my bag. Everything had to be pristine and perfect in our household. Not to boast, but our household is one of the wealthiest in our area, we live in the luxury of London. My future matters, yet I don’t have to panic as much because my parents have every little detail in my life planned. School; I’m not popular but I’m certainly not unknown. I don’t strive to have the latest couture clothing, I strive for success but I don’t have to strive too far. I attend a private school, for London’s finest prim and proper ladies. You question my way of transport? My driver clasped his gloved hands around the limousine door, opening it for me and then allowing me to softly clamber inside. I don’t know the difference of poor and rich, I’ve been living like this since my first day on earth, I had a personal pram pusher. If you expect me not to get my own way, I always win no matter what it takes.
The most popular girls are the ones whose mothers are supermodels, singers and wags; they all strive towards couture clothing, parties and the ‘how many likes can I get on Instagram’ life. Obviously I have self-pride on what I wear, but why spend money on all the couture things in life? I suppose I’m being quite hypocritical considering everything that I’ve told you so far. I’m in my third year in high school, my exams in the following years along with my future; not that I needn’t panic. All the girls in here are polite, polished, fine young ladies – of course like anywhere there’s the odd immature, girly behaviour. Yet there is no fighting, swearing (on the whole) or outrageous behaviour; like all the council schools and council academies. That’s a good thing though. My parents pay a large sum of money for me a year to attend, not to have me fooling around like a bunch of idiots.
“Emma!” A voice came near me, it was Chloe. Chloe’s been my closest friend in the school, however lately she and the popular girls have become quite close. I don’t have a problem with the popular girls, they’re all quite nice to be honest, just they dress and have different lifestyles in mind compared to me. She embraced me in a quick, petty hug and then brushed her strawberry blonde curls from her face, revealing her pale skin and freckles dotted around her face. Nobody over loaded they’re makeup for school, a few dabs of powder and maybe some mascara, nothing too bold. “There’s a new girl! Apparently she’s quite a catch – her old private school referred her to this one, they recommended the strict behavioural rules to her parents. Imagine!” Lately Chloe’s always been the one for gossip, who’s dating who, who’s got fake clothes, who’s been lying and cheating.
“I’m sure they’re just rumours Chloe, you know for a fact the school doesn’t except anything but strict behaviour.” Our school is the second strictest and highest academic scores in the country. They never usually accept referrals.
“Her mother owns some big newspaper company in New York, maybe they’re offering higher rates for her referral?” Vicious rumours on the new girl, it’s like every stereotypical gossiping girls, every person has to have a unique, interesting story just so people have a reason to eye her out and intimidate her like a shallow eagle. Suddenly like off a movie, the hall slowly quietened down as everyone parted, we all saw the new girl emerge. She looked innocent. I mean people never say judge a book by their cover, but why does everyone look so disgusted in her? The influences of the popular girls probably, feeling threatened on their territory. Glossy, hazelnut hair, with ombre highlights floated down to her pelvis, her uniform was immaculate and her makeup blended well with the crowd. Of course everyone changes their makeup outside of school; I’m just implying the obvious observations. Slowly she spun around, someone had obviously made a comment about her, everyone is polite here, just when they hear something bad about someone I suppose they make assumptions.
The new girl took a large breath of air and coughed a little, then stated loudly “Instead of all staring at me like a bunch of eagles, why don’t you get back to your own business? Yes I’m a referral student and so I don’t get referred to another school I’d appreciate it if you all took your noses out of my stuff and solve your own stuck up problems out? Thanks for your appreciation of my privacy.” She took a bow, spun round and slammed the door behind her.
Confidence. Maybe a bit too much arrogance for my liking, however fair play people have already made assumptions about her – why should she stand for people’s false accuracy?
“I think she’s a right stuck up bitch.”
“Referral, who’s ever heard of that? Absurd.”
“Arrogant. Don’t you agree Emma?” Chloe poked me, absorbing my attention back to the bathroom gossip. The girls were reapplying their makeup, whilst I stood at the side. I took a glance at Chloe – a changed character I must say and looked at the popular girls. One of the bathroom stalls opened and everyone’s faces dropped to the floor.
“I agree with you all girls, maybe she wouldn’t be like this if bitches – like yourselves – I must add, found a more interesting subject to gossip about?” The new girl looked furious as the other girls all scattered out the toilet. “Why are you still here? Are you the only one who will say something up to my face? Well go on then!” She growled at me. My heart pounced. I felt myself in quite an awkward situation; I wasn’t even talking about her. I don’t really see the issue. Perhaps I should just attempt to make her feel welcome.
“Er…I er…” I can rehearse everything boldly and bluntly in my mine, but I must confess I’m the shyest of the lambs when it comes to it. “I don’t really see a problem, I…I just think the rumours are pathetic, no one’s given you a chance to show your colours. Quite unfair I must say.”
“Wow. I think you’re the only person, who genuinely hasn’t slagged me off to anyone, think everyone is far too twofaced. They could at-least have the dignity to say it to my face!” Her voice raised one more, “I’m Vanessa by the way.” She held out her hand, jet chipped nails awaited my greeting.
“Emma Wallings.” Vanessa began to prod her palms against the window frames, “What are you doing – if I may ask?” I curiously questioned.
“Which one of these opens?”
“Far left, you have to give it a good old push, the girls have to open it after they’ve used any hairsprays or sprays.” I raised my eyebrows as I watched Vanessa force it open. She rummaged in her pocket, pulling out a cigarette, flicking her clipper and inhaling; as if she was inhaling a sea breeze.
“What? Have you never seen a cigarette before?” I mean of course I’d seen one before, just never a girl smoking here before. They’re all too interested in their health, the spots it would cause and the damage in the following years. Vanessa gave a girlish giggle, “You’re not bad you. Opinionated, but everyone likes a well opinionated girl. Perhaps we’ll become acquaintances of some kind.”
Perhaps was most definitely an understatement.
Acquaintances was not even close. We collided. We became like dizygotic twins. It wasn’t for the best, but she had some form of best interest for me. She wanted me to live.