Beauties, Boys & Brats

Hilary:

Ugh. The extremely annoying song on my alarm clock wakes me up, and once again, I realize that my life is over, in other words, school is beginning today. The worst part is that I’ll be a freshman in a new uniform, in a new school, in a new town. I moved to the Upper East Side this summer, and I have hated it ever since I took the first step into my grungy little room in my apartment that is the size of a peanut. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little; the apartment is on Fifth Avenue with an enclosed terrace, two living rooms, three stories, six bedrooms, and five “deluxe” bathrooms. Hah! Call that deluxe, my old bathroom was practically the size of a spa in New York; my bedroom was not much smaller than Wolman Rink, but now it is only the size of two classrooms (again, I tend to exaggerate). Well, I guess this is what I get for encouraging my dad to quit his job of being a nurse (who knew men could be nurses?), and to become the chief executive of the marketing department at Bergdorf Goodman. I will not admit to regretting that, but maybe it isn’t all that I thought it was - aside from getting 75% off all of the designer ready-to-wear.

“Honey, what do you want for breakfast?” my mom screams from the kitchen on the first floor.

“Uh…waffles with extra whipped cream”. I eat my waffles in a split second, and dash out the door without a word. My Burberry coat is about to fall off because I am running so fast. Maybe all those private running lessons that I took in the Hamptons paid off, but I’ll find out if I make it to school on time.

Tiffany:

I am just too excited for words. This is going to be the perfect year. I am the richest, prettiest, and thinnest girl in my grade (yes, the reason I know this is because I checked). Surely, I will be the everlasting queen of the hierarchy of our school’s social system. Now, the only things I need to ensure myself unending pleasure are girls who are adequate enough to compose my clique. We won’t have a name, nor will we need one because names are for pathetic cliques that people have trouble telling apart. Lucky for my girls and me, we’ll be so fabulous that we don’t need a name because everyone will know what clique we are, since we obviously will be the only one worth mentioning. Oh yeah, and the other component of my perfection is my perfect-to-the-touch boyfriend, Richard. He is my perfect match in so many ways: his good looks, his identically hot friends, and he is very, VERY, rich (hence the first syllable of his name Rich-ard).

When I arrive at the doors of Cynthia Henderson Private School for Girls and Boys – let’s just refer to it as CHPS – my sixth sense kicks into gear, and my hunt for the perfect posse begins. I wish the school had free dress, because that makes classifying so much easier, but we have uniforms. Anyway, at least all of our bags are different, so when I see any sign of a designer product, the owner will be fortunate enough to be on my list. I walk through halls with confidence; I hold my head high, smear my lip-gloss on, and strut like I’m the new top supermodel for Victoria’s Secret.

“Who’s that?” says some girl as I sashay through the hall. The girl is pretty, but I have no clue of she is. I make a mental note to scope out her status later, and see if she meets the requirements to be my vice-queen-bee. I nod of approval at her Tory Burch bag, Prada heels, and try to ignore the fact that her tights are from Gap Kids. I decide to check out the girl now instead of later, after all, they do always say, “never save for tomorrow what you can do today”.  I turn on my heel, and make a beeline for the girl.

            “Hi, I’m Tiffany. Follow me.” I blurt out without an explanation. I probably should have said something else, but I didn’t feel like it. Surprisingly, she follows without a single question. Forming a clique is gonna be a piece of cake.

            “Hey, I’m Hilary…” she comments with a voice which gives the signal that she needs a bit of information.

            “Wanna be a vice-queen-bee of only the best clique ever?”