LUXURY

＂ Ｇｏｏｄ Ｇｉｒｌ Ｇｏｎｅ Ｂａｄ ＂(1/4)

Erika Felix wasn't sure what time it was. The East Hampton Military's dingy, metal solitary confinement that felt like some kind of knock off dystopian movie set was always either eerily quiet or the set of a game show called; 'So You Think You Can Scream?' because that was all the school's most brattiest - and probably most insane - students did; scream for their parents' lawyers, scream for clothes that were more luxurious than itchy cotton, and Erika could even hear one boy with a British accent screaming that all he wanted was "some goddamn tea and Fiji Water." This certainly wasn't a night in the Felix mansion - unless it was a night Mr. Felix was angry with Damon but Erika quite enjoyed those nights.

However, despite the noisy whining from the other rooms that might as well have been glorified cells, Erika wasn't bothered. It wasn't like she could sleep, anyway, because if it wasn't her father's cool voice telling her what a shortcoming she was ringing in her head, it was an annoying girl across the hallway who kept asking her questions.

"I heard you came from that prep school in Beverly Hills? What's it like?"

"Are you a real red-head or is that dye? It looks like dye."

"How cute are the guys at Alabaster on a scale from one to ten?"

"What do you think about the new Givenchy collection? It's kind of rehashed, don't you think?"

'Gosh, this place might as well be the prep school trash dump,' Erika thought as she shifted on to her side on her hard metal bed, only a thin sheet for comfort - that Erika had discarded on the floor due to its cheap material. It seemed nearly everyone at the institute were either scapegoat wannabes like Addie and Cash or literal rejects of high society. 'Like me.'

Erika covered her ears in hopes that she'd ward away her father's stern voice that kept going off like the shoplifting detector at Sephora every time public school kids wandered in; beep, an inconvenience, beep, a mistake, beep, a shortcoming.

She could see why East Hampton Military Institute used solitary confinement as a crude punishment. When she was alone, all she could think about was everything she'd been trying to shove in Saks bags and into the deepest, darkest corner of her walk-in closet, never to be seen again - because as Queen of Beverly Hills and Daddy's Perfect Little Girl, she was supposed to be as perfect as an airbrushed Vogue magazine.

However, now all she felt like was a pair of Adidas joggers after a muddy hike.

Erika shut her eyes and tried to imagine she was somewhere more to her liking. Like strutting down the outdoor halls of Alabaster Prep that overlooked the greenery of the school quad. She could hear the clicking of her Louis Vuittons, the array of gossip that passed from Christian Louboutin cherry lips to Tiffanys-adorned ears, Benny Costa's ridiculously loud - and ratchet - laughter, Paisely trying to figure out the difference between designers and the 'made in Indonesia,' tags - 'Ugh!' She definitely didn't want to think about the bitch who destroyed her life in the first place.

Even if she kind of missed her.

"Why do you think you hate Paisely so much anyway?" The wannabe asked timidly from across the hall. She sounded like America's Sweetheart on steroids, speaking over the British boy down the hall who now just wanted "the first ticket out of stinking America."

Erika sat up with a jolt, only one hand covering an ear now. "What did you say?"

"I said, why do you think you hate blondie so much? What did she ever do to you?"

"How do you know about Paisely?" Erika called over the commotion of her fellow inmates. She wasn't one to entertain 'No-Don't-Even-Try,'s but the fact wannabe girl knew about her ditsy arch nemesis was...strange. "Don't tell me you're one of those pathetic low-lives that stalk my life on social media because that's just completely and utterly disgusting and I suggest you stop playing hide-and-seek with your life and go find it."