Leap of Faith

Day Five

You know how it’s the first day back at school and for some reason girls seem to thinks it’s an excuse to have their own mini Fashion Week… or Fashion Day? Well, that’s how it goes at Capshaw Academy. When you live this close to the super wealthy, school isn’t just school, it’s a jungle.

My sister’s had been treated as Capshaw royalty when they’d attended. My dad’s a math professor at Caltech- even though he’s on a research sabbatical- and while that didn’t give much credence to Libby and Anna’s social standings, the fact that our mom was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company did. In a place like Capshaw, money really did influence everything. Strange, then, that it never worked that way with me. It didn’t matter how wealthy my parents were, I wasn’t going to be one of those that could just fit in.

The Capshaw girls drove cars worth more than the average family’s home, and wore labels that no one outside of the Couture world could pronounce. I’m pretty sure half the girls came in to school wearing the Average Joe’s salary around their wrist or their necks. Competition was rife and it would be social suicide to pull up at Capshaw toting either last season’s It bag, or wearing the exact same outfit as someone else.

I just thank my lucky stars that I’m not the type that plays into that stereotype. Despite my mother’s status, and the fact that she’s been in the pages of Vogue, I don’t think I have anything in my closet that cost more than a hundred dollars. Actually, do I have anything that cost more than fifty?

Probably not. Unless you count my Vans sneakers, in which case, I have about two hundred dollars’ worth of footwear stuffed under my bed. Vans were my weakness and was the only time I really rewarded myself with a splurge.

Arriving at Capshaw wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a t-shirt and Vans was the closest to ‘fashionable’ I was ever going to get and that was fine by me. Georgie, however, was a slave to fashion and her first day back at school wouldn’t be complete without showing off her Christmas haul.  

She stood at the gates of Capshaw Academy wearing a pair of tailored black pants, a white chiffon top and a red jacket. She accessorized with black block heels and a slouch shoulder purse that had Marc Jacobs written on it. I took a shot in the dark and guessed he was famous for making purses. Georgie’s hair was styled to within an inch of its life and I’m pretty sure she’s used up her monthly make-up quota for just today.

“You look nice,” I tell her exactly what she wants to hear. “Like the purse.”

“Thank you,” Georgie cooed as she caressed the purse like it was precious. When she looked at my outfit, she frowned and glared at my sneakers. “I though you got a new pair for Christmas.”

I ignore her scrunched up nose and keep my mouth shut. It was easier than starting an argument with her about the state of my closet. As well as trying to get me to embrace high school, Georgie’s mission for senior year was to get me to be a clone of herself, and every other girl in our class.

Naturally, the hallway was filled with girls looking like they’d just walked off the runway and guys that looked like they just stepped out from the pages of Abercrombie’s latest catalogue. I’m not sure how it’s possible that all of America’s ridiculously beautiful teenagers ended up in my school, but here they were.

My locker was at the end of the senior hallway, seeing as they were arranged in alphabetical order. I pushed passed a group of girls who were talking animatedly about St Bart’s and the Bahamas, and rushed towards my locker.

In the midst of the crowd I temporarily lost Georgie, and without her by my side I felt vulnerable. I stopped in my tracks and spun to locate her, but in the sea of students, I was adrift. I started to panic a little until I felt someone take a hold of my shoulders and guide me through the crowd towards a group of jocks that I vaguely recognized.