Jessie Kensington thought she had escaped her troubled past when she faked her death and started a new life as Violet Arrowood. But three years later, she finds herself at Vanguard University on a scholarship, trying to build the future she always d...
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I was raised in a world of luxury, wealth, and unrealistic expectations. Alas, having more money than you can wipe your ass with doesn't help you when you really need it. Money is fucking great, don't get me wrong. Even the black hoodie I am wearing is dripping with wealth, but pretty sure you could buy an exact replica of this hoodie from Kmart for under $50–but you don't get the Gucci logo on it, and that's what you pay an ungodly amount for.
Money is power, and I like power. I like being untouchable. Unreachable. It stops people from bothering you. I was born with lots of feelings and shit, the way all kids are. My parents loved me, and I got everything I wanted which, I admit, also made me a spoilt little shit who thinks he can get whatever he wants. Which further reinforces the whole unrealistic expectations shit. Unfortunately, when you have lots of feelings, it ties you to people and things. Your veins spread out and latch onto those who you stupidly care about. One attaches to my mum, another to my dad and my sister. Then we have Cass, Teddy and Reggie. One for Clara, and that's it. Which is too much in my opinion, but once they are attached and you share the same vein. You can't just cut it off. You'll stop the blood flow, and a part of you will shrivel up and die. That's why I don't like getting attached to people. The less, the better.
My friends have stayed the same throughout high school and now college. Actually, I hate the word friend. I have my first family, the ones I share blood with. And my second family, the ones I share life with. I hate new people; sometimes, one of the boys would get a girlfriend, or Clara would try and get a new girl into our close-knit group. But I wouldn't bother. They can do whatever they want with their veins; I stay away. It isn't me. I don't hate it when they invite someone to hang with us; I get stupidly angry when one of the guys gets a girlfriend. Because then I have to deal with them too. Luckily these guys play more girls than they do football games. Except for Ted, he does go through a lot of girls, but he is a lot more respectful; my mother (and, annoyingly, my sister) says he's a gentleman.
Whatever. But my mates are my second family– hell, sometimes they are my first family.
And that's how I like it, and that's how it will stay.
"Oi pass the ball, douchebag!" Teddy screams at his brother, Reggie, from across the field.
I kick a tuff of grass with my shoe. I don't want to be here, but I don't have anywhere to go to get my mind off shit. This whole night has been a shitshow. Calling the boys for some ball was the only logical thing to do.
I'm not sure if my parents bought the "Got late-night practice" line, but whatever. They were too busy at each other's throats to argue with me. I don't know why they do the mandatory dinner bullshit if they are just going to scream at each other so loud that they can't even hear my sister hacking up her lungs. It's not that they don't care; I know they care. That's what they were fighting about, a new experimental procedure to help my sister's shitty lungs last a bit longer. They didn't discuss it in front of her, but just because they are in the next room doesn't mean we can't hear. Shit, you'd think for the price of our house, they'd have thicker walls. I tucked my sister in bed and got the hell out of there.
