The life of the rich and famous can be overwhelming—at least to those who aren't a part of it

The life of the rich and famous can be overwhelming—at least to those who aren't a part of it

(Author's Note: Please read and review my story! I appreciate every comment, and it'll help motivate me to write more. Thanks!)

The house looked like a museum. That was Chase's first thought. Her second was that this house—to put it modestly—was going to be her new home. If she had thought that the house on the outside, with its gazebo, roses, acres of lush grass, exquisite flowers and trees were special, she had changed her mind. Inside, she could see the graceful curves of the stairways, and the delicate paintings that hung on the wall. Behind a tapestry, she could see hundreds and hundreds of bottles of wine peeking out of tiny cubbyholes. Talk about a modern twenty-first century palace.

Looking at all of this, reality her for the first time ever, and she realized that all of this that she was ogling at would soon be part of her home. The thought itself was overwhelming. But then, Chase pinched herself, this was Beverly Hills. And in Beverly Hills, they took everything to a whole new level.

Her worn tennis shoes quietly squeaked across the polished high-gloss floor, and she had a sudden urge to take them off and let her feet sink into the plush carpet on the stairway. Not that she'd ever do that—talk about being over enthused— but nonetheless, Chase could barely contain her excitement. Her mom, her two brothers, and her had been sharing a cramped, dilapidated shack downtown, so needless to say, things couldn't get much worse. Which was one of the reasons why Chase was so eager to let go of her past and start fresh.

Three months ago, the fridge had been empty, the rent had been late, and school attendance had depended on whether if there was any gas in the car or if Chase was strong enough to run two miles on an empty stomach. All in all, Chase could only count up a tiny handful of good things in her old life:

a) She'd never had to worry about bulimia or anorexia since her problem had always been under-eating, not over.

b) She'd had pretty much a free reign on things like bedtime since her mom was too busy trying to pay the bills to care.

c) She never had to go to school if she didn't have time to do the homework from yesterday night.

Besides that, her life had pretty much sucked.

But then, Mark Lewallen had come along, and he was everything they could've hoped for. Kind, caring, and someone who could help with child support. And most of all, someone who was willing to look past their lack of money, who was going to make them all somebody instead of nobodies.

And now, three months later, look at where she was now. The difference between the before and after pictures was stunning. In other words, life was just starting to get a lot better.

Chase had already decided that when she became a famous actress one day and was ever going to write her autobiography, her crummy past would just be something she'd use to motivate people. See? she'd be able to say. I came from dirt, but look at where I am now!

A girl can dream.

And the man who was going to make it all happen and fall into place was now extending his arm towards her. "Mark Lewallen," her mother's fiancé offered a hand, and Chase shook it politely. His hand felt warm and soft against her small, pale one.

He did the same to her brother, Carson. "And what happened to Blake?" Mark asked, gently guiding the three of them into the dining room. That is, if a normal dining room was supposed to have pure gold sparkling off the rim of its plates.

"Uh, he's being fussy right now." her mom said quietly. "I thought it'd be better to let him cool down." Hannah smiled a smile that didn't quite touch her mouth.

Chase wanted to give s frustrated sigh. Describing her brother's anger as a hussy fit was putting it mildly. Not unless, you called getting stoned and drunk the day before to protest having to move to Beverly Hills a little hussy fit. And after what happened last time Mark had come to visit them, Chase was surprised that Mark even wanted to know how Blake was.

Nobody said it'd be easy to raise a teenager.

While her mom and Chase couldn't wait to come here, they'd only got Blake here by dragging him into the car. And the only reason they'd been successful was because he was still nursing his hang-over from yesterday night. Why anyone would be mad about living in ten acres worth of land with its own personal outdoor pool, movie theater and fitness center was a mystery to Chase.

"Chase, do you want to go change before school?" Her mother whispered to her. Chase glanced down at her jeans and the white shirt she'd gotten at the local thrift store, and then eyed her mom. Chase had been around long enough to know that her mom didn't care about how Chase was dressed. She just wanted Chase out of the room, so she could talk to Mark.

"That's an excellent idea." Mark boomed, rubbing his chin stubble, "I'll have Carla get you something to wear."

"Oh, she brought spare clothes." her mom said in an almost embarrassed tone, even though she knew perfectly well that Chase's spare clothes were in even worst condition than the ones she had on right now.

"Really, it's no problem. My daughters have more than enough than they need, and it'd help you fit in more with them," Mark waved the air to show that it was no problem to him.

But Chase knew that she wouldn't be leaving the house until she had something decent on. After all, Beverly Champion High had accepted her only because Mark Lewallen had personally donated a new wing for the school's art program. And after spending a million dollars just to get her in, it would be inviting gossip for it to look like he couldn't even afford a new pair of jeans for his new step-daughter.

Not that a whole new look would stop people from accepting the invitation to spread rumors, or anything.

"Right this way, miss," A girl that Chase assumed was Carla gently tugged her elbow up the long, winding staircase.

Chase stumbled up the stairs, trying not to gawk at the dazzling glass chandeliers that hung above her head.

"Right here, miss," Carla threw open a door and Chase couldn't help but stare in awe in spite of herself. The size of the room could've fit her entire high school. There was a pretty, four-tapestry bed with white and navy sheets and silk curtains the adorned it. She rang her hands over a set of chestnut desk. The bookshelf, bureau drawers, and doors were all made of the same wood. Chase paused in front of a life size mirror. She looked into it, and saw a dirty girl with a purple background, who clearly didn't belong in this place. Not wanting to dwell on that, she looked away, and found herself staring right at the bay window and the balcony outside it.

Chase quickly pushed the window open and looked outside. She could see the outdoor pool and Jacuzzi from here. About a hundred meters away, there was a separate, smaller house where the maids all slept. It was breath-taking. If anyone had ever wanted to see something like this in her old neighborhood, they'd have to get a travel brochure to Hawaii.

"Miss," Carla the maid, who'd been silently watching Chase, said timidly, "There's something you should know."

"What?" Chase said, reluctantly drawing her eyes away from the scene below her.

"The girls here, be careful, miss." Carla said quietly, like she was scared to be found talking bad about her employers.

"Oh," Chase was stunned, "Why?" It was hard to imagine someone that could have so much in life and not be grateful for it.

"I've been around for a long time. There's something not quite right about one of them." Carla said, lowering her voice even more, and repeatedly checking behind her.

"Like what?" Chase leaned in closer. What was it about her new sisters that was so mortifying?

Carla shook her head furiously like she was trying to erase it, "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

She was clearly regretting what she had already told Chase, because she quickly exited the room the way she'd come from.

Staring behind her, Chase blinked for a few seconds. I'm going crazy, she decided, and turned back. Not wanting to think about what Carla had said, she opened the door nearest to her, and saw what was approximately the size of her old trailer home.

Except that instead of sparse furniture, and old newspapers, there were hundreds and hundreds of shirts and jeans and clothes all organized by color, sleeve length, and type. It wasn't until Chase nearly tripped over a Nordstrom bag that she saw that the floor was uncharacteristically messy.

She reached inside one of the bags and pulled out a breathtaking purple jersey dress with the price tag still dangling on it. She didn't even have to ask to know that it was probably worth more than all her yearly savings from baby-sitting added up together.

She quickly ditched the white shirt and put it on along with the nearest jeans she could find and a pair of ballet flats that had been tucked into a pink shoebox. Then, shouldering a bag that had big initials stamped all over it, she looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad, she decided. Maybe she even looked like someone who could fit in with all the posh kids in school. Chase decided that if she tried really hard, she could even kind of fool herself.

Chase exited the enormous closet, carefully making sure not to trip over the dozens of bags that still lay on the floor. Whoever this room belonged to obviously had good taste in clothes. Chase wondered if she'd meet the girl at school, and if Chase would know that it was the girl she'd borrowed the clothes from. Maybe. Maybe not.

She closed the oak door gently behind her, and bounded downstairs.

"Oh my goodness," her mother said, looking up from where she'd been talking with Mark.

"Do I look different?" Chase smiled nervously, running her hands over the jeans, which had a fancy horse shoe in the back pockets.

"Absolutely stunning." Mark smiled, the tips of his eyes crinkling. Chase blushed. If Mark was this flattering all the time, it was no wonder that her mom wanted to get married so quickly.

"Thanks," Chase went over to give her mother a peck on the cheek, and shook hands with Mark again. She'd feel weird kissing him on his bushy cheek.

"You better get going, young lady, traffic's pretty heavy in the morning." Mark said, patting her on the top of her head.

"Okay. Bye." Chase slowly stepped backwards, out of the door and into the California sunshine, which seemed to shine 24/7.

"Oh, honey, here's your lunch money. And a new notebook. And this, just in case." Her mom gingerly handed her a cell phone. Chase took one look at it and gasped. It was a pretty pink razor, adorned with diamonds. She'd been dying for a cell phone since she saw Verizon advertising on her friend's television.

"Thank you," Chase swallowed, gently taking the phone from her mother's outstretched hand.

"Don't thank me. Thank Mark." Her mom advised.

"Thanks Mark." Chase stroked the cover gingerly the way someone stroked a baby's cheek. She liked the way her fingers felt when it gently bumped over the curved diamonds.

"No problem. You'll be fine in school. If you want to, you could always ask for Jade or Arielle Lewallen. They'll help you out." Mark told her.

She wishes. But we'll give Jade and Arielle the chance to introduce themselves to her.

"Okay, I will." Chase ran out of the doorway and out onto the driveway, nearly tripping over the new shoes. She vaguely wondered whose shoes they were: Jade's or Arielle's? Pretty names, she thought to herself.

"Hey." She said as she flung open the car door and carefully wedged herself into the backseat, stuffing her bag into the middle seat.

"What took you so long?" Carson was slouched down in his seat, still wearing the same clothes, which happened to be baggy shorts, a faded T-shirt, and a backwards hat. Chase rolled her eyes. Her brother probably thought that it was still cool to be dressed gangster. Thank goodness Blake had got over that phase years ago. Now, the only relic was the earring he wore on his ears, and even Chase had to admit that it looked pretty cool.

"Oh, you know, getting dressed." Chase shrugged, choosing instead to sneak a peek at Blake, wondering if he'd gotten over himself yet.

"Man, women!" Blake grumbled up front, crushing his cigarette with his fingers angrily.

Apparently not.

He threw the still-burning joint onto the smooth driveway. Seeing the tiny flame on the otherwise impeccable stone gave him a feeling of satisfaction.

The chauffeur eased the car out of the driveway. "So, starting your first day at school. Are you guys excited?" Chase straightened up slightly. The driver sounded more excited about their first day of school than she did.

"Yeah," Chase said.

Blake snorted, "Hell, no." Let his sister be all chipper and happy about having to uproot their entire life.

"Sorry, he hates school." Chase apologized on her brother's behalf. She didn't want the driver to go and spread word about how rude their family was.

"Oh," he said. They spent the rest of the ride making small talk to fill up the empty space. Chase eyed both her brothers as often as she could without getting caught. She was in the middle of talking about allergies—how in the world did she get to that topic?—when a sound rendered the entire line pretty much incapable of talking anymore. The noise was loud enough to shatter the windows of every car around them. Chase looked out the window to her right, and saw a red-hot convertible cutting everyone off.

The driver was a girl about her age with her light brown, chestnut hair down to above her breasts. Her sunglasses were on, and Chase noticed that she had a cup of Latte in one hand with another hand on the wheel, which was cutting people off right and left.

In the passenger seat, there was a blonde with her curly hair blowing all around her small face. Her hand was pressed against the car and she patted her hair every few minutes as if to reassure herself that it still maintained its level of perfection.

In the back, a girl had kicked her feet onto the empty seats beside her, wrinkling her bright, fuchsia colored toe nails. The mane of midnight black hair blowing away from her face was like the kind you saw in hair commercials.

A new song came on the radio, and she saw the girl in the backseat leap up and reach down a hand to pull the blonde up with her. When the car moved again, Chase was almost positive that the two would fall back down. But they didn't. Instead, they grated their hips against the other's and lip-synched to the lyrics. It wasn't until the driver purposely slammed on the brakes that the two sat down again.

Chase watched as the convertible attempted to cut their car too. Considering how many years they'd had their truck, it probably wasn't a hard thing to do.

"Hey," Blake yelled when he saw them, reaching across to slam the horn.

"What are you doing?" Kevin hissed, prying his fingers off the button. "You don't know what you're doing. I could get fired for this."

Blake glowered and then slouched in his seat, but didn't try to do anything.

The four of them didn't say anything as Kevin finally eased the car around the drop-off. Chase had previously wondered if she might not be able to find the administration building. But now, she could see that it stood in the very front of the school's entrance, with a brightly painted sign. The three of them got out and headed towards the principal's office.

Chase walked inside, feeling very much like she was walking into a prison. Inside, there was a lady behind the receptionist desk that looked old enough to be a great-grandmother.

"Name?" the grandma looked up from her horn-rimmed glasses when she heard them approaching.

"Chase, Carson, and Blake van Buren." She answered for the three of them.

"Ah. Go on in. Mrs. Cracow's waiting for you." she gave the three of them a withering glance, and then went back to typing furiously on her computer. Chase glanced nervously at the clock. It wasn't like she was late or anything.

She bit her lip, and pushed open the door.

"Ah, Misters and Ms. van Buren, I've been waiting for you," a voice said.

Chase nearly jumped when she was the diminutive woman sitting behind the large mahogany desk.

"Mrs. Cracow, school principal." she told them all.

"Ah, and what are these people here for?" another, rougher voice asked in a state of utter boredom. Chase thought she detected a faint British accent.

When her eyes had finally adjusted to the dim lighting, she saw the outline of a muscular silhouette. Wait, no. Her heart gave a tiny flip. Not just one silhouette, but three. Three sexy males all looking at them. At her.

Lowering her eyes, she slowly raked her fingers through her hair and licked her lips.

Hello gorgeous!

"Mr. Ferrarra, I'll beg you to keep your tone civil in my presence." Principal Cracow hissed. Everything about her reminded Chase of a snake. Her hair hung in limp, little strips, her voice was thin and reedy, and the way she moved was more like she slithered. "Welcome," she said extending a hand, which Chase hesitatingly shook. It felt cold and unfriendly.

"Normally, I'd sit down with you and discuss the rules of decorum at Beverly Champion High School. But today, I seem to have run into some unexpected trouble with some of my students. However, I sincerely hope you will not judge our school by their improper conduct." She threw the three of them a glare.

"So, I'll just have to settle with going through the basic ones now, and trust you to go over the student packet when you get home." Mrs. Cracow finished, promptly producing from her drawer three thick packets. Chase's heart sank. She was supposed to read through that whole entire thing?

"One of my utmost rule of importance is that students will always be on time to class, as it is important to show respect for not only your fellow classmates, but also your teachers." She emphasized the last word so hard that Chase swear she could see spittle flying out in between her teeth.

She gave the three guys and long, hard look that could've burned through ice. One of them squirmed a bit uncomfortably at being scrutinized like that.

"Okay. So, it was only a little accident. Could happen to anybody," the guy farthest to the right shrugged.

"You boys damaged Mr. Holder's car on your way to school today by crashing it. Such shameful, improper conduct." the principal sneered, seemed to momentarily forget that she was in the classroom with three new students that she was supposed to be making a good first impression on.

"So we'll get our parents to pay for the damage. No harm, no foul." The boy in the middle drawled, splaying his hands on the chair handles. His voice was dripping with tedium.

"Then you'll be happy to know that not only are your parents to pay for the damage wrought upon Mr. Holder's vehicle, but you are also obliged to serve an hour of detention after school." The principal continued, looking happier, now that she was dealing out punishments.

"What?" The middle one leaned forward in his chair, no longer cocky."One hour of detention after school." Principal Cracow seemed to relish making them wait. "Every single day of the week. Be there."

The one closest to Chase slammed his palm down onto the handle of his chair and stood up. "That's insane!" he shouted. "What am I going to do about soccer practice? And the championships?"

"Mr. Ferrarra, then you may serve it one hour early in the morning. And unless anybody wants me to lengthen your punishment, you may all be excused." Principal Cracow grinned like a proud canary.

The three other guys stood up, threw one last glare at the principal, and then stomped out.

Chase, not sure what to do, also stood up, scraping her chair back.

The principal looked up at the noise, "Oh. Right. Welcome to Beverly Hills Champion High School." She said in a monotone, like she'd already given the same, encouraging words to countless of people before, pretending to smile and be enthusiastic.

Chase gave her a smile just as fake in return. "Thanks," she said before exiting the door behind the three guys.

Some kind of welcome indeed. She was still invisible. And even with her clothes, she just couldn't fit in like everyone else. She hadn't fit in at her old school, and she didn't belong here. Maybe she was just an outcast where ever she went. She'd thought that moving here would've finally changed her life. But nothing had changed.

She was still a nobody. And from the looks of it, she was going to stay that way.

Just wait until she realizes that in this town, it's better to be a nobody than a somebody. But most of them don't realize that until they've gone to far, and have only just begun to fall.