We Are the Rumour

Rumour (noun)
1. A generally circulated story, report, or statement without facts to confirm its truth
2. General talk or opinion of uncertain reliability

vt
to pass along information by rumour (usually passive)

She never had to try hard, and her present situation was an excellent example of the way that Rachel Keller always excelled in her life, always leaving others to bite the dust that she stirred up so elegantly.

She was sat at a bar in New York City, in a black dress with opaque black tights. Nobody questioned where the dress came from. She was Rachel Keller. Nobody ever had questioned what she did. Her shoes in themselves were a work of art, leaving any fashion whore green with jealousy.

Rachel Keller was a girl who was as high and mighty as they came, but even despite this there had been a time when she used to have principles. The black x's on the back of her hand used to speak for themselves. She was seen as a moral sort of person, always doing the right thing at the right time and place. But she was given a choice. Or at least that was how it seemed because in reality she had no choice.

It was either be moral or be the Queen of everything. You can't be moral and be the Queen Bee at the same time.

She had liked her place at the top of the pecking order. When she said jump, they jumped. When she said lie, they lied and the malicious gossip spread around the youth of New York like a bush fire.

There used to be two things in life that Rachel constantly reminded herself of: 'what goes around comes around' and 'don't bite the hand that feeds you'. Maybe they were somewhat ironic mantras to carry around with you and horde inside of your rather frozen heart, but Rachel loved the taste of sweet irony in her mouth. It gave her life that little bit of edge, which her daily routine could no longer to provide.

Or at least that was how it used to be.

Now there was indeed a taste of irony that festered in Rachel's mouth, but it no longer tasted sweet.

It was bitter as hell.

She used to specialise in bringing girls down who lied their way to the top, who borrowed designer clothes from lending websites in order to compete and stay in the running. She used to tear girls down who leeched onto certain boys just for the attention. She made other girls dig up the dirt, only then to display it herself to everybody in a glaring light that highlighted the lies of those lying girls and their ugliness

But what goes around defiantly comes around.

There are always people who are more than willing to lead a rebellion. There are always those who rise above everything else and go against all imposed conventions. It was Rachel Keller's bad luck that she was the first one in the firing line.

She had specialised in lies. In fact she knew so much about them, that she could lie her way through everything and anything and never get caught. It had always been like that. She was an astute observer of character and how people ticked.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why she managed to get away with her mountain of lies for so long, because right now she was just another girl, alone at a bar, with no high class friends surrounding her and hanging onto her every word.

The black dress that hung perfectly to her shape was in fact, unlike everyone's expectation, not designer. The D&G label had been cut out of a jumper in store and later sown into a black dress that had been picked up at a thrift store, and so later on the black dress that had been worn by a perfect stranger ten years ago, was passed off as a vintage D&G designer dress. Rachel became an expert in cutting out labels and sowing them into her own clothes. She copied the stickers that were placed inside the shoes in Saks and then stuck them into her own shoes that came from the Chinese owned shops downtown.

She didn't actually have the money. Instead she relied on her older brother who worked in Chicago and who sent her half of his pay check as a substitute for the lack of love and affection from her own parents.

Nobody knew about the fraud expect for one person.

Rachel Keller's closest friend.

Charlotte Hayworth was a plain girl, but her wit and her talent for scheming made up for her lack of striking beauty. She had stuck by Rachel; she went through everything with her including her rapid rise to Queen Bee status. Rachel had always made sure to keep pulling Charlotte with her and involving her with everything, but according to the followers, Charlotte wasn't the type of girl that someone of the Rumour Royalty like Rachel should be associated with.

So Rachel dropped Charlotte in the way that some girls would drop and stop using last seasons Yves Saint Laurent bag. She was cast to one side and left to fend for herself. But Charlotte had learned from the best. A strange sense of vindictiveness grew inside her, eating away at her everyday thoughts and only one thought consumed her mind: bringing Rachel Keller back down.

It was easier than she thought.

In the times when they had been friends they spent hours sowing the appropriate designer labels into dressers, jumpers, skirts, top, anything you could think of. Charlotte documented the fraud on her camera, it provided the girls with the thrills of that came hand in hand with their lies and deceit as they watched the video over and over again, thinking themselves superior.

The same thrill ran through Charlotte when she posted the video online. Soon everyone knew that Rachel had been lying to their faces for the whole time. The Queen Bee was dethroned faster than you could say 'Prada', with Charlotte slipping in smoothly to take over Rachel's place, making sure that even more rumours about Rachel were set out into the world so that it would be impossible for her to ever take up her old authority.

So it came that Rachel Keller was sat in a bar in New York City all on her own, in exile, the bitter taste of irony clashing with her expensive drink that was set before her.

She was all alone in her thoughts when the glass door of the bar opened, causing Rachel to turn in her seat and see Charlotte flood in, surrounded by the same girls who used to worship the ground that Rachel walked on. But even from where she was sat at the bar, Rachel could see two girls in the group whispering to each other and looking pointedly at Charlotte who had over the past weeks blossomed into an arrogant bird of paradise, proud but shallow.

They were already panning to tear her down and the rumours were only just beginning.

What goes around, comes around.