Letting Reality Begin

Chapter One - New Year, Same Story

Chantelle Miranda Radleigh inspected herself carefully in the full-length mirror, which hung proudly in the hallway of the Radleigh residence. Her chestnut curls were smooth and sleek – falling just below her shoulders in an elegant, glossy cascade – and her light make-up only enhanced her already stunningly beautiful features. Her skin was slightly golden from her long, hot summer – half spent in Spain and half spent in America, skiing. Her school uniform was immaculate, although hidden underneath her Burberry parka. She adjusted her pleated, grey skirt slightly, so that it reached the middle of her thigh – not too long, but not too short either.

Satisfied that she looked just the way she wanted – nothing less than absolutely perfect – Chantelle gave her reflection one last, small smile, before swinging her Marc Jacobs bag onto her shoulder and sauntering out the front door.

The sky was clear, thankfully, although the air was bitter and cold – which was only to be expected on an early September morning. Frost glittered on the large circular drive and the lush green lawns. Chantelle opened the door of the sleek, black BMW that was waiting outside the house and swiftly slid onto the comfortable leather seats. Their chauffeur and close family friend, Paul, frowned slightly at Chantelle in the rear-view mirror as he looked up from the newspaper he had been reading.

“You’re early,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow as he neatly folded up the newspaper and placed it on the passenger seat.

“I noticed, thank you. It’s the first day of school, and I want to be there on time,” explained Chantelle, reaching into the built-in fridge and pulling out an icy cold full-fat Coke. She quickly opened it and took a small, refreshing sip. Normally Chantelle wouldn’t be caught dead drinking anything full-fat – she worshipped Diet Cokes and skinny lattes the same way she worshipped social networks and designer labels – but today was the start was start of her academic year as Year Thirteen and she was getting stressed about it. Cokes, she had discovered, were great stress relievers, even if they did pile on the calories. Maybe it was all the caffeine and the sugar. Maybe not.

Paul’s eyebrows shot up even higher at Chantelle’s comment. “I thought it was all about being fashionably late,” muttered Paul, looking both confused and disbelieving. “Or at least, that’s what you told me last year.”

Chantelle inwardly sighed at that. Paul was totally right – it was all about being fashionably late, but being late meant the possibility of arriving at school with Alicia and Melissa and she would rather arrive early than be anywhere near her step-sisters. “Times change, Paul,” she lied, taking another sip of her Coke. “Now can we leave before I get really mad?”

“What? Leave right now?”

“Why not? Who are we waiting for?” asked Chantelle, even though she knew exactly who Paul was waiting for. “Unless you have any imaginary fairy friends who want to hitch a lift – not that I’d let them or anything – I don’t see why we can’t leave immediately.”

“No, Chantelle, I meant aren’t we waiting for Melissa and Alicia?”

“It’s not like this is the only car we have, Paul, and it’s not like you’re our only chauffeur,” snapped Chantelle, starting to get slightly irritated. Wasn’t it clearly evident that Chantelle didn’t want anything to do with her step-sisters? They had been her ‘sisters’ for over seven years now and Paul still hadn’t quite caught on that they hated each other’s guts. “They can get a lift with someone else. I’d rather shave off all my hair than turn up to school with them.”

Paul didn’t say anything – just nodded with understanding. If Chantelle would rather get rid of her beautiful curls rather than do anything in the world, then she was being deadly serious. To Chantelle’s relief, Paul finally put his foot on the pedal and pulled out of the drive.