Confessions of a Not So Rich Girl

Chapter 1

The first and most crucial thing you’ll ever learn about me is the following.

I am absolutely horrible at telling the truth.

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Mom pulled up into the parking lot, her ’92 Honda Civic screeching to an annoying halt. I quickly scanned to see if anyone heard the loud noise. Okay, so we’re surrounded by a Mustang, a Jaguar, and two smart cars that probably cost more than our rent for three years. I already don’t fit in here, I thought.

I slid out of the old car, the door creaking as I opened and closed it. I grabbed my two beat up suitcases from the top of the car, plunking them down on the concrete. “Are you sure you don’t need help with that El?” Mom chimed, and her door swung open with record speed.

“No!” I said, with a little too much force. “I mean, it’s really fine, Mom, I can manage to get two suitcases to my dorm on my own.”

“What, are you ashamed of your own mother?” She rounded the corner of the car and grabbed one of my suitcases. I cringed at her obnoxious ensemble – a huge shirt that screamed PROUD CORNELL MOM, paint splattered jeans that were probably from the early 30’s with wear and tear holes in them, and scuffed-up cowboy boots. Her recent hair dye – blonde, to match with my hair – was starting to fade, and her gray and brown roots were frighteningly visible. I would have been a thousand times less embarrassed if she had showed up in a Ronald McDonald costume.

So, all in all, yes, I was ashamed of my own mother. “Mom, you’ve already seen my room before when we came a few weeks ago, and my roommate was telling me about her sleep schedule. She sleeps almost all day because she has this thing where she gets tired really easily, so she’s usually sleeping when she’s not in class.” A totally made up on the spot lie, but worth it if it meant my mom wasn’t going to embarrass me in front of all the people that maybe, just maybe, would think of me as a potentially cool person.

“You’re right, I don’t want you to be inconsiderate,” Mom said. “I just wanted to see you off. This is a big moment you know, Eloise Millicent. It’s not like I get to see my only daughter off to college every day.

I cringed at the use of my first and middle name. “Mom, will you stop with the ‘Eloise Millicent!’” I cried. “You’re making me sound like a ninety year old heiress from the seventeen-hundreds.”

“Oh, but I do love your name so much, El.” Mom cupped a cold hand around my cheek. “You don’t even know how proud I am of you, getting a scholarship to this school, getting a job two years ago to save up for college all. You know that we can barely even afford to look at this place right now.”

“Mom,” I said, looking around to make sure nobody heard.

“There’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. While every other rich kid here is pouring his or her parents’ bank account out just by breathing, you’re taking advantage of the scholarship opportunity.”

Talking about our horrible financial situation was a touchy topic for me. I felt extremely horrible for feeling ashamed of my parents and my life, but it was hard not to feel that way when you were surrounded with people that could buy your entire life with their half-week's allowance. 

I looked over to the dorm building. I could see the window to our dorm cracked open, and a round face with curly brown hair could be seen poking from behind the green curtain. I was sure that it was my roommate, Carolanne. We’d exchanged contact information upon meeting each other, and I’d texted her to let her know I’d be showing up at our room around 4. It was almost 4:30. One thing I’d learned very quickly about her was that she was always on time.

“Look, I’m gonna go, Mom.” I started to walk away, but turned back to look at her. I could see her wiping her eyes and trying to mask the fact that she, Heather Klein, was crying. Crying was not an activity that my mother ever participated in. “Love you.”

“I love you too, El. Call me when you get settled in and whenever you need to talk.”

I nodded, and gripped the handles of my bags tightly. I watched as Mom walked back to the old Civic and strapped up, stopping to inhale and exhale deeply while gripping the steering wheel, something she did every time she was this close to having a breakdown. And eventually, she just drove away.

I pulled my suitcases behind me and I walked to the dorm building. For a while, all I could hear was my own breathing and the sound of my sneakers slapping the concrete. Then, it happened. The downward spiral chain of events started.

I could feel the handle to one of my bags get lighter, and then I heard the clunk of one of my suitcases falling to the ground. The handle was still in my hand. Crap, crap, crap, I yelled in my mind, looking at the god awful 10 year old suitcase with a million scratches and tears. Even the zipper was opening in some spots.

“Hey, do you need help?” I heard someone say.

“Not really, I think I can manage getting a stupid suitcase up the freaking stairs without any charity help,” I quickly remarked, not even realizing the sharpness of what I said until I turned around.

Oh.

“Well, I’m not just going to let you sit here with two suitcases and not offer to help,” he says. And He. Is. Gorgeous. He had the most luscious, dark black hair I’ve ever seen. It almost glimmered blue, that’s how dark it was. His eyes were emerald green, and I could almost see flecks of both blue and green in them. He was tall, but not too tall, and he was outfitted in a navy blue cable-knit sweater with a plaid shirt underneath, with khakis and boating shoes. That was far fancier than anyone in my town had ever dressed. The people where I came from kept it limited to jeans, old band t-shirts and beat up Converse.

“Uh, sorry,” I stammered. I couldn’t believe I was already making a fool of myself in front of people and I had only been there for a grand total of fifteen minutes.

He laughed, walking closer to me. “It’s perfectly fine. I take it you’re a freshman here?”

“Yeah, first year,” I said, standing to my full height of five feet three inches. “What about you?”

“Sophomore.” He sticks out a hand. “Chase.”

I stuck out my hand in return and shook his. “Um, El.”

“El? What’s that short for?”

“Eloise. It’s horrid, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, I like it actually,” he said, picking up my suitcase and tucking it under his arm as if it was just a football.

“Really, I can get my things up to my room by myself. You don’t need to help me, you probably have  more important things to do with your day.

"If by important you mean avoiding calls from my Mom pleading with me to come visit her and my father, then yeah, I guess so." He grins and me. 

I tried so hard not to sit there and swoon over him. Finally, I just grabbed my suitcase from his arms, which was not the best of ideas since I was considerably weaker than he probably was and almost dropped the bag. "Look, thanks for your help. I'll see you around."

 "Strong one, huh?"

"Not really, but I have more important thinkgs to do than sit around and have a conversation with a guy that should really be calling his mother right about now."

He raised his eyes in amusement. "Okay, okay. Fine.  But you have to promise me that I'll see you around sometime, Miss Eloise."