Disclaimer- Yeah, yeah, yeah, I own no one, Capeesh?

S/N- Okay, so I have finally hopped on the Modern Day High School fics bandwagon. Even though it's practically gone, as in all that seems to be left of those are Welcome to NHS, Outkasts, and St. Vincent's, which I highly suggest you read. Anyway, there is a CC at the bottom if anyone is interested!

Special thanks to- Cards who so wonderfully beta'd this for me! Love you Cards! And also to Shade, who was the other side of the RP that inspired this!

This story brought to you by: Armani!Spot

New Money

"It's like the more money we come about

the more problems we see"

Mom and me, we're what PRS calls 'new money,' as in, we haven't always been wealthy. I mean, we were never poor or anything, just not really well off at all since Dad got thrown in prison. At least we weren't until Mom won the lottery- the 51.4 million dollar jackpot. Of course, she splurged immediately. First it was little but important things like unpaid bills and credit card debts, but soon after it'd turned into a new mansion complete with its own swimming pool with a built in hot tub, golf course, sauna, and tennis court. From there, the money became a new Ferrari, a butler, a couple million in clothes, a horse, and- of course- the best private school in the country.

Park Row School was a boarding school in Downtown Manhattan that Mom found out about from one of her new hoity-toity rich friends. I'd never even left New Mexico, much less been to New York, but the next thing I knew she was showing me brochures and raving about the school. Maybe it was the best school in the country; no doubt it was the most expensive. Mom could have easily bought another six cars for less than it cost to send me there for one year.

I tried to reason with her, tell her that splurging like this was just going to make the money disappear all that much faster, but she wouldn't listen.  To her, PRS was the perfect place to send her son who was just becoming accepted right here in Santa Fe. But no, "New York has culture" she would say with excitement, "You can see shows and go to museums a meet people from all over the world!"

Yeah, and I can also get mugged, murdered, and held at gunpoint, sorry to burst your bubble, Mother.

But I couldn't very well say that to her. I couldn't tell her that she was wasting seventy grand a year for me to go to some stuck up prep school that I would probably hate anyway, she wouldn't listen.

Which is why, on January 23, I found myself sitting outside the huge red brick building in the limo Mom hired while the chauffeur carried my bags to the lobby. The building was intimidating, especially in the light gray mist that hung with the morning. God, I didn't want to go in there. This year was going to be pure hell; I was going to be stuck in a school full of rich jerk-offs and spoiled brats. Look at what I was wearing for Christ sakes! Mom had forced me into a new Prada suit. Prada! If everyone dressed in insanely expensive suits everyday, I was definitely going to run. I sorely missed my faded jeans and T-shirts I wore back in Santa Fe. Hell, I missed everything about Santa Fe. I'd only been in New York for a little over a half hour and already I hated it.

Maybe if I just sit here and don't make any noise they'll forget that I'm coming today, I thought to myself as a last hope. No such luck. A rather ugly white haired man who looked to me a bit like a goat was walking towards the car.

"Francis Sullivan?" He asked when he reached me.

I shook my head. "Jack Kelly." I'd legally had my name changed after my old man went to jail.

The man frowned and checked the papers he was carrying. "Says here I only have one new student coming today, and his name is Francis Sullivan. You must be in the wrong place, Mr. Kelly. Where are you going, I'm sure I can be of some assistance?"

I sighed, "No, I'm Francis. I mean, I was Francis. I'm Jack Kelly now."

He frowned and looked me over, glancing at his papers every so often. Finally he seemed satisfied. "I am Principal Snyder, Mr. Sullivan. Please come with me."

"It's Ja-" I began, was cut off by Snyder.

"Mr. Sullivan, follow me." He gestured me with a wave of his hand. I climbed out of the limo and followed him, kicking at the pavement with my matching outrageously expensive Prada shoes and scowling.

I wasn't moving fast enough for him, I suppose. He turned around and practically yelled: "Sullivan!"

Sighing, I quickened my pace, although it pained me to listen to this asswipe. As much as I was wanted my comfortable clothes, I wanted my comfortable school even more. Kloppman, the principal there, understood me. Although he was hard on me at times, (Saturday detentions, anyone?) he was a cool guy. Not like Snyder, who had a stick (probably made of pure gold) shoved up his ass.

Yes, this was going to be an interesting year.

~~~

Casting Call!- I'm probably going to need many people for this, so should you like to be in it either tell me in your review or email me personally (ShortLILQT721@aol.com) and I'll send you a profile to fill out.