Chapter 1
There was a time in my life when I tried to change. I went to church every Sunday, gave all my old clothes to the Salvation Army, and even gave multiple donations to foundations all over the country. Then it came to me, I couldn't ever change who I was. I could only be myself and if myself was a bitch then that's what I was going to be. Daddy always told me, "The thing in life you will enjoy the most, is the thing you are good at." I have tried to be better but, I am just good at being bad."
Partying every weekend never got old. Going to bars on a Monday night after a hard day of school always made everything better. Peyton went with me on occasion. I had the most fun when she was. I knew when we got back to school on Tuesday she would tell everyone the things I had done at the bar the night before, but I didn't care. Everyone had already formed their opinions of me and they would doubtfully change them. Monday morning came too soon. I rolled off my king size bed and stepped onto my champagne colored, carpeted floor. Looking around my room, I realized that I couldn't see the floor because of all the clothes. Maybe the carpet was red? I couldn't remember. Back to the clothes they weren't normal clothes they were designer clothes. Chanel, Halston, Versace. You name it, I had it. After a quick shower, I dressed for another horrid day of school. My Blue Cult jeans, which fit perfectly, had been worn the night before and a Diane von Furstenburg pink floral camisole, given to my by my mother, hugged my body in all the right places.
My watch read 7:50. Late again, I thought to myself. No time for breakfast, but who really eats breakfast anyways? I had a teacher who would always tell us, "Now boys and girls before a test you need to eat a good, hearty breakfast. Girls I don't mean a slim fast, I mean eggs, bacon, and toast. Maybe even some fruit or yogurt." That teacher was a heifer. That explained everything.
Running down the stairs, I almost tripped on my BCBGirl pumps. I grabbed them and threw them into my Black Juicy Couture Tote. The keys to my Beemer lay on the marble counter top. I took them and headed out the door.
The drive to school was miserable as usual. My typical hangover was kicking my ass as it tended to do. I rubbed my eyes with my left hand while my right hand steered the vehicle. A ringing sound came from my passenger seat. Thinking I was delusional I said, "Really gotta stop drinking so much." Then I realized it was my cell phone. I dug through my purse, finally finding the source of the ringing. "Ya got me." I said.
"Where the hell are you? Jesus Brooke, I thought you were dead." It was Peyton Sawyer, one of my best friends. "After last night I wouldn't have been surprised. Seven shots of tequila?"
"How do you expect me to remember? I lost count after two. The only reason I retained that information is because I was yelling the count out loud. Two!" I yelled, reenacting the night before.
"Yeah, yeah. I remember trust me. I was the designated driver, rem... no never mind you don't."
I let out a low laugh, "A never mind is a terrible thing to waste, Ms. Sawyer." I pulled into the school parking lot. Being late definitely had its downfalls. I had to park on the back row with the sophomores. Now when school let out greasy sophomore boys would try to rub their prepubescent hands all over the Beemer and me. "Pey, I am in the parking lot. I will be in English in like, 10 minutes."
"What the hell are you going to do for 10 minutes? Everyone is in class." She answered back. She was obviously in the bathroom. I could hear the echo and the giggles of freshman listening to the conversation.
"Oh, Peyton, how slowly you learn. I don't have anything to do. That is the point. I am going to roam. Just give me my time, okay?" I closed my car door and started to walk toward the school. I closed my phone and threw it back into my bag. I opened the doors to the school. Another day in jail, I thought to myself. Something exciting was bound to happen. I was right, as usual.