Rich Girl Problems

Chapter 1

I heard footsteps approaching my door before I heard Martin's knuckles raping on my door, as I finished powdering my face with a ridiculously expensive brush. "I'm coming!" I called politely, as I glared at the prissy, idiot staring at me in the mirror. I was wearing a shirt, and blazer, topped with a short school skirt, which I had pulled down (much to my mothers dismay) make-up was caked on my face, and my feet squeezed into black patent dolly shoes. My brown hair was curled so tightly I swear it was giving me a headache.

I try not to be ungrateful, I know that some people would kill to be in my position, wandering around with a servant at your tail, sorting through wardrobes full of sparkling outfits. But not me.

Hi, I'm Katherine by the way, I'm 17 years old and live with my extremely annoying and judgemental parents in London. When my grandfather died, My parents inherited a lot of money and decided to build a perfect future for the Pierce family with it. Due to this, all I have known is money never runs out. You know how parents always say, "Money doesn't grow on trees!" Well in my case it does.

I grabbed my patent Guuchi bag and strode down the spiralling staircase, Where Martin was waiting a a napkin hanging over his arm, to escort me to the dining room."Good mourning!" I cooed politely as I was within earshot of my parents.Martin winked catching on as he cleared his throat before replying,"Good Mourning, Miss. Pierce!" He led me down the Dining room clutching my guuchi bag and posing ridiculously as I stifled a laugh.

"Ahh, Katherine," My mother cooed standing from her chair as she stared admirably at my prissy outfit. "Just Beautiful," She complimented in a strong British accent. "Well, that is because I made you!" She added, preening herself, and staring around at my father chuckling politely. That was one of our house rules, 1. No laughing is permitted, only polite chuckling.

"Oh mother!" I chuckled in a fake English accent. My family actually originated from Russia, but my mother wants to be English so much that she reckons faking the accent will help her come across as English. She really doesn't.

I sat gracefully in my chair, resisting the urge to plonk down and stuff my face. I stared at the plate in front of me. On it sat a minuscule snail shell, encasing a slimy inside.Yum. " We don't want you putting on any weight," Mother hinted, before returning to her meal, whilst I poked the slimy snail suspectingly.

"Your father and I, wanted to talk to you about something," Mother said excitedly clasping my fathers hand in hers, as she shooed away Martin who obliged slightly unwillingly .I new He would be listening anyway, and considering how excited mother was this was definatley going to be bad news.

"We've realised how poorly you are doing in French class," Mother started, as I sat quietly waiting for the bad news."You have one percent less than your other classes," Father added, as Mother nodded disapprovingly at me. GEEZ WOMEN ITS JUST ONE PERCENT!

"We decided more French culture could help you withstand higher marks," Father commented, his hands still clasping mothers. "So We are sending you too PARIS!" Mother cheered, jazzing her hands as party poppers surprisingly entered the air. I jumped in surprise. "REALLY!" I cheered, withholding the need to scream. " Are you coming?" I asked cautiously, please say no, please say no. "Sadly we are not, I know you will miss us, but we expect outstanding behaviour from you," Mother replied.

As if I would miss her I just couldn't wait. " I am afraid you will have to take public air planes, as you father and I are set to take the jet to Turkey for a three week getaway, also we have no one to check up on you so we will see you when you get back after two weeks," Mother finished smiling, as a grin spread across my face. This was going to be the best two weeks of my life. "Don't smile like that, its unattractive," Mother frowned as I politely smiled, I wasn't going to do anything to mess this trip up.