The Debutante

Chapter One

"Alexandria, remember you have the fitting for your dress at four o'clock this afternoon. If you are not there at precisely four on the dot, you will be in much trouble," my mother sternly spoke as I was sitting at the table in our large dining room. I tried my best to resist rolling my eyes, and focused my energy on swallowing the green smoothie in front of me. My mother was on another one of her health kicks that she insisted everyone else in the house follow (aka the Chef). I think it's because of her stupid anxiety about the ball, and how I'll look in my dress. 

My father rushed down the large spiral staircase before pecking my mother on the cheek. Her blush was blended to perfection, and her light red lipstick was applied with careful consideration and skill. I didn't understand the appeal of lipstick. Whenever we appeared anywhere, she obviously forced it on me, but I stayed with a nude shade or some kind of pink. I wanted something that could easily fade and eventually disappear throughout the night, so I didn't have to worry about reapplying it or smearing it. But for some reason, she just loved the color red.

"I have called a large meeting for this afternoon," my father began as he always so properly did while speaking. "I will not be home in time for dinner. Can you tell Portia to keep my food warm?" Portia was our all-around maid. What she did for us was, frankly, incredible. She was also one of the sweetest women I had ever met in my life. She treated me like another human, unlike my parents who treated me as if I was just an heir to their money, or their "perfect" offspring. My father was the Owner and CEO of Prescott Corporations. Wearing that many hats in such a large company with thousands of employees, my father definitely has a stressful yet fiscally productive job. I always thought it to be unfair that he be both of those positions. There was no one to check him; it was just him. However, he did have a Board of Directors that advised him on any decisions.

"It's alright, dear. Alexandria has a fitting for her gown at four; therefore, we will probably be home around six. Everything should work out alright," my mother stated, seemingly trying more to convince herself than any of us. I still stayed fixated on the disgusting green smoothie I was expected to finish. My mother definitely could annoy me so much with her schedules. For her, everything had to be on a schedule, or she acted like it was the end of the world. In order to prevent this annoyance, ignoring her was the perfect opportunity.

I sighed sickly at my parents, for they barely even noticed I was there, definitely hardly speaking to me. "I'm leaving," I spoke, hoping to get somewhat of a reaction out of them, but they did not even look up as they were too entranced in speaking about the business or something. I took the elevator down from our penthouse to the ground level. I walked through the doors, briefly saying hello to Tony, our doorman. He was another one like Portia. He was always happy and smiling. He was just pleasant to be around, and someone that treated me like a real person. It was such a small ask, but with this family, it was like pulling teeth to be treated normally.

I glanced to the street making sure my towncar was here. I was completely fine with just taking a taxi, but my parents refused. They made it known that I could not be seen in that yellow piece of "junk." Their words, definitely not mine. When Tom, the driver, saw me. He perked up and opened the door behind him. "Hello, Miss Alexandria. How has your day been so far?"

"Same as always," I sighed.

"Sorry to hear that," he responded, knowing that the 'usual' consisted of being ignored by my parents, yet being pressured to be perfect. It really was a deadly combination. "Are we going straight to school?"

I nodded silently. School, six letters, one word, yet still big enough to make a kid cry. My school was almost straight out of Gossip Girl, no joke. Essentially, there were three groups of kids here: the scholarship ones, the wealthy ones, and the middle of the road kids whose parents desperately wanted their kids to go Ivy's. Sure, my mother would never approve of my hanging out with someone that could potentially hinder my social standing, so I wasn't really allowed to associate with the scholarship group. I was in the second group. My friends and I were, sickly, the children of Billionaires (in my case), wealthy Hedgefund owners, and any other high-paying job you could think of. There were even a few of my friends with famous parents, like actors or singers.