Poor Little Rich Girl | ✓

Chapter 16: Then I Guess I'm Crazy

Chapter 16: Then I Guess I'm Crazy

The next morning, I find it in me to get out of bed after lying there for about three hours, doing nothing. Sleep didn’t come to me very easily last night at all. In fact, it barely came. I slept like a newborn baby and I don’t mean that in the good way. I mean it like, I slept for about an hour an thirty minutes and then woke up about eleven times. Well, that’s an exaggeration, more like six times, but still.

So, at around 7:30 a.m., I decided to stop torturing myself and just stay awake. I grabbed my iPad, turned it on and watched three episodes of my addiction, Gossip Girl and here I am. I’d happily - well, not happily, but you know what I mean - lay in this bed all day and watch Gossip Girl, but I told Ben that we could hang out.

I guess I could call and cancel, but I hate people like that. You know, people who bail on you at the last minute when you’re supposed to hang out? Like, you get up out of your bed, shower and make sure you look nice and presentable to hang with said person and they call and cancel. It’s like being slapped in the face numerous times.

I’m grounded, but I don’t care. My grandmother is probably sleep or something because she didn’t come and force me out of bed this morning with her stupid air horn or anything. That was good, because I think if she had, I’d have gone off on her.

My parents never take things like grounding seriously, so I can easily walk out if they’re still in their bedroom, and considering I haven’t seen them all morning, I’m guessing that they are. And as for Spencer? Well, Spencer usually sleeps until about 12 p.m., unless he’s talking to Julia or something. It’s only a quarter past 10 right now though, so he won’t be up for a while.

I roll out of my bed and sigh, standing up and stretching. I’m in a gloomy mood right now and for a totally obvious reason. I walk across the room to my carry-on, damn it we’ve been here a week and my clothes still aren’t here. I’m not a patient girl, therefore I’m really, really starting to get pissed off at having to wear the clothes in my carry-on. Besides, I only packed for a week and a day, so eight in total. This is the seventh day meaning that Tuesday I’ll either have to re-wear something or my clothes are gonna have to be here. Like I said, I don’t like to re-wear clothes in the same month, so I pray to God that they’re here.

Being that I’m in such a gloomy mood, I try to find an outfit that expresses it that, pushing past the vibrant pastels in the carry-on bag. After a few minutes of searching, I find an oversized grey t-shirt that has a pair of black sunshades on the front and a thick black mustache beneath it. It’s perfect to show my gloominess. I also find a pair of expensive, plain black leggings, my skull earrings and a pair of all black Converse. I haven’t had a down-dressed gloomy day in a while, which really makes me wonder why I packed this stuff.

I collect the clothing, close my carry-on after grabbing up a pair of panties and a bra - a black matching set, thank you very much - and go to the small ugly bathroom to take a shower. I only spend about eight minutes in the little shower, the thing that freaked me out was the fact that I saw mold growing in the crevice of the wall. That’s like, the most disgusting thing in the whole world.

Once I get out of the shower, I get dressed in my depressed attire and grab my toothbrush from my room, quickly brushing my teeth and then yanking my hairbrush through my mane of hair, getting the tangles out. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and then dab on my normal amount of make-up, plus just a smidge more, trying to conceal the bruise left by Samuel. I’m still really surprised that he hit me, actually. The concealer does its job pretty well, managing to hide the bruise to the best of its ability. Whether or not it’ll be invisible to others, I dunno, but I hope so.