Okay so this is like a little teaser just to introduce you to Izzy. If you like it or have ideas then review. I won't be updating until I get 7 reviews.
Dear diary.
Dear Journal?
Journal entry one…
Diary entry one.
Book??
Poppy
Poppy
I have no idea why I'm even writing in this thing. I'm going to put it down to boredom and curiosity. I was just innocently cleaning out the attic out of the goodness of my heart, not snooping because someone didn't hide something I wanted in here and I happened to stumble across well…you. Just by the amount of dust this thing was covered in I wouldn't be surprised if someone brought you when flashing your ankles was a sin punishable by death. Anyway I Fell coughSmashedcough and broke the lock on some ancient priceless air loom wooden chest thing and here I am. But if this shit gets out I'll be the laughing stock of New York. I can just the imagine the page 5 article in Cosmo 'Scandal queen Izzy gets sentimental' That would be just what I needed. You see, I'm what could be considered…famous. But I'm not some stuck up B lister who refuses to admit their career is over. Gone. Down the toilet and no amount of boob jobs will help you. My friends and I belong to this group. The Elite. There's six of us in total; Lauren, Jessica, Tanya, Irina, Kate and Myself.
We're like this total legacy. Every third year the Elite six selflessly give up their time to stalk, judge, start rumours, break into records and haze you just so we can pick the next group of girls to take their place and of course they move into highly successful careers earning millions as well as having creepily perfect families and are all mums who bake cookies while wearing pearls and have torrid affairs with sexy Italian gardeners. Just ask my mum, she knows ALL about that. It's where every little girly wants to be. I'm talking life goal. Lie in bed and cry yourself to sleep because you think you're too fat or not smart enough to get in with us. News flash: You probably are, either that or have way to many self confidence issues. Like, I knew this one girl whose mum wanted her in so bad she raised her using the internet rule book, that we put on as a joke plus to provide a few tips hidden amongst all the garbage, as her child rearing manual. You think she would have realized none of us look like we say you have to in our 'rule book'. The girl's a total Barbie. I'm talking tacky extensions, too much make up and shopping at chain stores, the whole nine yards. The thing is we were neighbours. I was the ugly kid who played with boys. She was the girly girl who played with dolls. I got bored of my tom boy ways at about 14 and went kinda rocker. Like thigh high stiletto boots, skinny's under them, a tank and a waist coat, that kind of thing. I got in and she didn't. Then she tried to 'accidentally' shoot me and went a way for a little while, bet she'll be ecstatic when she gets to move her arms freely again.
We know everything, like I could break into the schools computer system, steal all the answers to any test, replace them with something saying IZZY KINGSLEY IS QUEEN, STICK THAT IN YOUR JUICE BOX AND SUCK IT like 500 times and no one would even consider that it may have been me, while some scrawny kid with oily black hair and dandruff and is permanently stoned named Chris in another school across the country gets jail time for it. That's how much power we have.
We know everyone's secrets; how much your family earns (apparently not much, that's why you're not in our group)…I can get a list of anyone you've ever dated in less time than it takes Starbucks to make me my morning black coffee; I know you're last credit card bill… and that your new LV bag is a fake, you name it. We have access to everything, amounts of zeros that could buy up Google and EBay and have it paid for all by lunch time without breaking a sweat if we felt so inclined. So when your with us forget credit card debt, its Prada all the way baby! We get straight A's, attend all the hot parties (if we're not there it's not worth you're time. If we weren't invited then wake up; it's not a party. It's a chance to play boggle and talk about how in thirty years you're going to be living in your mothers basement thinking back to how thirty years ago you were having this exact conversation about your future, we play in the top sports teams, are heads of at least five clubs or committees each and always look like your wet dream served on a plate with your favourite garnish. How we do it all? Well that's not something I could write in here.
I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Izzy Kingsley, well that's the name I go by. I attend Manhattan Girls Prep, a prestigious girl's school with a tight arse principle. Except that she was totally a member of The Elite and is as hard as melted butter on us. We run this school. This town, and have associations in places so secretive you'll never hear about them except we're half your age and have. Burn.
One of our 'rules' is that we all have to live together. Kind of like a sorority. Really living together just makes life a lot easier. The house is huge, big enough for atleast 12 of us girls but thank god all the extra space means it doesn't bother us when we have all our boy toys over, but the sound proof walls help with that to. We each have our own rooms looking out through a mother fucking huge window to the sea and to say that I hadn't been photographed topless by accident a few times would be a total lie, atleast I got in Hello magazine. We have a mini kitchen area and bathroom too, although we tend to use the main kitchen for meals and only stock our private cupboards and fridges with our dirty little secrets. Irina has alot of those, but you didn't hear it from me.
To the untrained eye walking through our house we would be considered the essence of perfection. Girls immaculately dressed to fit their personal stereotype (I'm slightly rocker-ish but in a sexy way), Hair neat and sexy, we never look like we just spent the last 6 hours partying on tables with no tops on drinking ourselves senseless then crashed on our doorstep for 4 hours of sleep. Because we didn't. Much. Make up light and natural, Not sluttish but not conservative or nun like, just the right balance of sexy and innocent to make you look and look and look…and it all looks so effortless and maybe it is. That's just one of our many secrets.
Our home looks spacious and large, with high ceilings and white walls. It's decorated in shades of pink and whites with light wooden floors and pink and white furniture. We know perfectly well that we are lucky bitches and when we pull up to school in the latest cars that don't come out for another six months then get our gorgeous selves out with effortless grace and start walking flicking our hair with our D&G glasses to hide our hangovers while watching the jaws drop, hearing the pants tighten and watch eyes literally turn green (I still say it was trick contacts) well it's quite hard to Not realize we're luckier than you.