There's Something About Him (Complete)

Chapter One - Rich Secrets

A/N: Photograph of Alira Heath

I groaned as the alarm clock sounded, "Not again."

This day had been a source of dread for me since the holidays had begun; I was going back to school to complete my final year and I knew that it would be as hellish as what the ones before it had been.

I had never really understood why my high school experience had turned into perpetual torture when my elementary school had given me a wonderful sense of confidence as I floated through with the knowledge that I was a bright and well-liked student. I'd had friends; not many close ones but no one had ever bothered me and all of the teachers had said that I would do well into the last years of my education.

They had been wrong; so very wrong.

I rolled out of bed, knowing that my mother would come pounding on the bedroom door if I wasn't ready to go in time to catch the bus, even though she didn't understand why I still insisted on riding it when I had a perfectly acceptable Porsche 918 Spyder sitting in the 16 car garage.

Of course, she didn't understand because I had never told her anything truthful about the way that the other students at Ashton High School treated me. My extraordinarily rich parents thought that I was a shy and introverted individual who couldn't seem to conquer the seemingly simple task of making friends.

But then they didn't know that on my very first day as a freshman, the cheerleading squad had taken it upon themselves to make my life a living hell; thus, ending my social life before it even had a chance to begin.

It wasn't that I had done anything to them; I'd never wanted to be popular but that hadn't seemed to matter much. The school's Queen Bee, Miranda Cole, had taken one look at me and called me a pathetic whore.

It hadn't mattered much to me on that first day, since I thought that things could only get better but then the rumours had started. Ones that I had never bothered to deny.

Apparently I was a lowlife nymphomaniac who had needed a scholarship to make it through even the public system. There were other things passed around, of course. I had tried to convince the football squad to join me in a wild night of group sex and I had also offered sexual favours to my teachers - all my teachers - in exchange for my A+ grades.

With no one wanting to go against the social order it had resulted in a friendless run of long years.

Going into the school, I had decided that I would exist as an average student; no one would know of the fact that I came from a family which fairly claimed to be on America's top ten wealthiest list. We were the Heaths; my father owned companies around the world - he had invested in everything from coffee shops to warfare - he had political opinions which made him a regular figure amongst the countries most influential but he had also managed to, somehow, stay out of the magazines and off the internet. I always thought of him as the boss that you knew ruled your life with an iron fist even though you never went a day in your life knowing what he looked like.

My mother was a fashion designer; something that I knew any girl my age would kill for, but for me, it made it all the harder to hide myself.

I didn't want to be mobbed by the masses at my very average high school; I didn't want to be liked because I was rich or had access to one of the world's top fashion guru's. I wanted to be able to live this part of my life in the shadows so that I could get a sense of what people were really like.

I had heard stories from my dad about people trying to weasel their way into his life simply because they thought that he would rain money upon them when they demanded it.

I didn't want that just yet.

So here I was, the school's richest student and no one knew it.

My parents had wanted me to go to the best schools but I had just wanted to be normal.

I laughed as I finally began to dig through one of the shelves in my closet; I was certainly that! According the high school's unwritten rules, I should have been the most popular girl in school but I was the outcast, and all because a stranger with blonde hair, blue eyes and tanned skin had taken a disliking to me.

How very ironic.

My bedroom door flew open just as I was walking out with my favourite, well-used black skinny jeans and an unflattering black hoody which I would wear over the top of an equally unflattering printed t-shirt.

"Baby, please tell me you aren't wearing that...outfit again this year," my mother grimaced as she looked at the pile of cloth in my grasp. It always baffled her when I chose to wear such a thing when we both knew that the things in my immense walk-in closet could easily be valued in the hundreds of thousands.

"This is what children my age are wearing, Ma," I replied, refraining from rolling my eyes.

We had had this same discussion nearly every day and it always ended with similar results. I would get frustrated and shut down while she grew upset and offended, accusing me of not wanting to be seen at school in her designs.

She was right, I didn't, but not because I didn't love what she made for me. When I wasn't locked in that hell, I would happily run around the house in colourful concoctions and long flowing dresses with my waist-length black hair trailing behind me but at school my hair was always twisted into a tight bun while my face and honey-coloured eyes remained obscured by my hood.

Many times, I had come close to begging my parents to transfer me to a school where I could have a fresh start, and maybe open up a little about my background, but then my infuriatingly stubborn nature rose up to leash my protests. I didn't want to show those pathetic girls that they could control my life.

I only had one year left and then I would probably forget about them; only remembering how much I had persevered through the years.

Probably stupid, I know. Sometimes I couldn't even explain it to myself but I wanted to do this; prove that I could make it without my family's influence.

"Can you at least wear something other than black today?" My Mum's voice cut across my thoughts once more as she lowered herself onto my bed and wound a hand around one of the posts.

I shook my head at her, "I like the black and you know that I only ever wear this outfit at school."

She threw her hands into the air and flipped her brunette locks over one shoulder, "I just don't get it. So what if everyone at school knows about your money? You're a smart girl and I'm sure that you'd be able to work out pretty quickly if people are just hanging around because of it. I don't want for you to spend the last year of high school hiding in that ugly outfit for no other reason except stubbornness." By the end of her speech she was on her feet and pacing the length of my lilac rug.

I opened my mouth to explain, yet again, why I wanted to do this but the pleading look in her eyes and the fact that her words made some sort of sense stopped me. She was right in a lot of ways; after years of being ignored and the realisation that no one wanted to be my friend because they were too scared to go against Miranda, things weren't going to change just because I decided to wear something different.

The other students finding out about my family would definitely make an impact, so I knew that some truths about my life would have to remain quiet but this? I looked at the clothes and smiled for the first time that morning.

Maybe I could be more than the lonely girl in black this year after all.