Cameron and Cassidy

Part 1

I walked through the huge elegant painted double doors of the shameless place that we call home- well, to them it is. Never was it to me.

A lady in a black and white uniform with the hideous head band that went all matchy with the hideous, hideous maid uniform came towards me. Goodness gracious, I have asked mom to just drop the uniform thing. I get it she's filthy rich and could possibly hire thousands of maids but no need to embrace it that much.

She asked if I wanted her to take my guitar, which was currently hanging on my shoulder with the case, upstairs and into my room. I nodded and mumbled a little thanks before walking pass the overly-elegant-constructed staircases that were laid to my left and right. The staircases are so mellow dramatic, I think the Queen of UK might come down from them but who am I kidding? The only queen that sets foot onto those steps were my mom's.

Queen of the riches.

Sounds appealing, huh? Not when you're in my shoes. Trust me.

The squeaking sound of my muddy sneakers glided onto the ever-so flourished floor rattled the empty place while leaving marks of my muddy footsteps as I made my way to the kitchen.

I opened the fridge and grabbed the first pint of ice cream which I presume was from Germany or some foreign country since mom doesn't like the local ice cream which I entirely do not believe. She just wants to spend all these money on shits. She should try the ice cream from down the block. It's like $2 and still tastes like this $2000 imported ice cream.

I was in the middle of my great indulgence of the ridiculously overpriced vanilla ice cream when I heard the familiar tick of footsteps. I've grown into that sound that even if you blast music through my ears I would still know that my mother was arriving.

"Cassidy, my dear." She greeted enthused. Mom was wearing this elegant dress that I suppose she bought in a highly ridiculous price. I just can't help but to see dollar signs in every angle of her. I mean, it's literally true and I hate it. Every corner of this place screams 'hey I'm more than a thousand bucks.' It's absurd!

I dropped my spoon making it stick upright from the ice cream.

"Mom, my mother." I greeted back with fake enthusiasm that was highly obvious.

"You made quite an entrance with those disgusting shoes." She sounded pleasant but her words were totally not. Mom looked at me from my 'disgusting' sneakers to my ripped black jeans then to my boy band shirt that I personally haven't heard of upto my hair that was carelessly pulled back into a messy bun- not the cute messy but messy messy. "Classy."

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest with all the sass I could grab from my being.

"So," she clapped her hands together. "Romeo Turner is coming in a few days." She cheered, placing both of her hands on her hips.

I sighed. "I don't really care, I'm not Juliet."

"Fortunately, you are, Cas." She pursed her lips as she walked closer to the crystal stool I was currently slumped on.

"Yeah, fortune-ately." I rolled my eyes as mom sighed.

She plastered this smile on her face as if I hadn't dissed her.

"Well, I think we should go dress shopping. We need you to look presentable for their arrival."

"Uhm, I can't," I stood up from my seat. "I actually have plans for today."

"Cas, you just got home."

"Yeah, to pick up my guitar." I said before walking out the kitchen.

"Stop walking out, Cas. We should talk about this." Mom stepped on the threshold of the kitchen where I was a few feet away.