Bitch

Her head felt like a volcano had decided to erupt all over her skull, each blink felt like a sudden pleasuring relief to the blinding light but each little scratch of a sound would send her dull head ringing into a series of agony across her brain. Chantelle groaned, her mouth was dry and her rough tongue felt rough and leathery inside her mouth.

She didn't know where she was. She didn't know what time it was. And she certainly didn't have enough energy to get up and bother finding out these important things. The hangover was torture, the bright piercing light seemed to send a rupture across her skull and nothing seemed straight. She just wanted painkillers but she wanted them to be brought to her, not wanting to waste valuable energy actually getting up and staggering into the kitchen herself.

Chantelle realized she was lying on something soft and bumpy...and moving. She suddenly sat up, ignoring the ache in her head that felt like a large bowling ball was slowly rolling around the inside of her skull. Chantelle looked down, realizing she was lying on some boy she didn't even know, he was half naked from the waste up and his face was for some reason covered in jam. Chantelle gave a noise of disgust, slowly climbing out the bathtub the two strangers had shared last night and wiping jam from her designer T-shirt. Chantelle gave a scowl, glaring at the guy before washing off her makeup and leaving the bathroom.

The house was a mess; streamers, cigarette ashes and beer bottles littered the floor. The walls were smeared with jam and other strange foods, stray teenagers were passed out all over the place. There was even a used condom packet lying in a murky corner of the room and some small clear packets of something that defiantly wasn't white flour sitting on the living room table.

Chantelle groaned, stumbling into the kitchen which was even messier than the living room. Someone was passed out across the kitchen counter, a beer bottle still clutched in a limp hand and his head hanging off the side, drool slowly making it's way from his mouth and down the side of his nose. Chantelle shook her head, trying to figure out how to tidy all this up before her parents arrived back home. She rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, finally finding a beloved pack of pain killers before chugging them down with a glass of cold water which flavored her ravenous thirst and quenched her dry itching throat.
"Wow, talk about a killer party..." A croaky voice came from behind her.
Chantelle spun round, finding Brittany standing there, her long chocolate brown hair all frizzed up and heavy makeup smeared halfway down her pretty face.

Brittany was prettier than Chantelle, no doubt about that. Even after Chantelle had gone through a nose job, Brittany still stood more beautiful than her. All of Brittany's long lush Auburn hair was natural and so were her evenly large breasts. Not Chantelle though, half of Chantelle's hair was made up of long extensions while it was entirely bleached blonde. She was naturally a dull mousy brown and nobody liked mousy brown. This was why Chantelle didn't exactly like Brittany that much, she was only part of Chantelle's "followers" because she was pretty and Chantelle feared that if she let Brittany go solo then Brittany might discover that she does actually have the power to become more popular than Chantelle. She was certainly pretty enough to do so. And that couldn't happen. Chantelle was at the top of the food chain and she would fight to stay there.

"Sure was," Chantelle muttered, prodding the boy sleeping on the counter like he was some disgusting strange bug squirming in a petri-dish.
"Have you seen George anywhere?" Brittany asked as Chantelle opened the fridge, bringing out a small pot of low fat yogurt.
Chantelle shrugged, digging a spoon gingerly into the pot before licking some of the yogurt from her spoon. "dunno," She mumbled before finding the yogurt too filling and just chucking it into the garbage can.
Brittany sighed, running a hand through her tangled yet still lush brown hair. Chantelle chewed the inside of her mouth, guilt lurking somewhere deep inside her but the events of last night were just a blurred series of unclear photographs in her dazed head. Brittany left the room and Chantelle sighed, following shortly behind. More and more people had begun to rise from the dead now and were slowly but surely staggering out the front door and back to their dreary homes.

Suddenly the doorbell rang and Chantelle groaned, walking to the door to answer it. And there stood Lucy, beaming up at Chantelle and hugging Chantelle's entire course work to her chest proudly.
"I finished your coursework Chantelle," Lucy drawled and Chantelle sighed with annoyance, rolling her eyes and snatching the work from Lucy's grip before slamming the door in her face.

Chantelle chucked her course work carelessly onto a table, stepping over several unconscious bodies before finally retrieving her cellphone from off the cluttered living room table. Amazingly her iPhone hadn't been stolen yet. Chantelle went through her many texts messages before finally coming to one sent by her parents. She frowned, opening it and reading it, her eyes suddenly growing wide with panic. Her parents were coming back early from their trip to Mulan...TODAY! They were asking for her to meet them in the nearest Starbucks in two hours.

Chantelle darted out the living room, flinging the front door open and looking out across the street. Lucy was walking away from the house with her head hung low and feet shuffling across the pavement miserably.
"OI!" Chantelle called and Lucy's head snapped round, her eyes burned brightly when she saw Chantelle there calling her back. Lucy ran back up to the front door, smiling up at Chantelle.
"Yes?" She asked and Chantelle grabbed the collar of Lucy's cheap leather jacket with a manicured hand, pulling her into the house.
Chantelle came back with a black carrier bag, handing it to Lucy "clean," She ordered, "Now: I have an appointment in two hours and I need time to get ready," She snapped, flicking her long blonde hair from her face.
And with that Chantelle marched away, proceeding upstairs to get ready for this "meeting" with her parents.

"Honey, we're going to a business trip to New York and we want you to come with us," Her mother announced and Chantelle just sat there, sipping away at her coffee.
"To New York?" She spat, "Are you kidding me?"
Chantelle's mum shook her head frantically, "You'll enjoy it! There's plenty of malls around and you'll have loads of fun!" Her mother beamed excitedly.
"But why do I have to come?" Chantelle whined, "I'm perfectly happy staying at home alone."
"Because you're too irresponsible to look after the house," Scolded her father who was reading a newspaper, he eyed Chantelle over the pages, disappointment marked across them dull grey eyes of his, "It's about time you learned to grow up Chantelle."

Chantelle scoffed, flopping back in her seat and crossing her arms, her waxed brows knitting together as she played off her best "pissed off" face. But her father didn't seem to even notice her dramatic stroppy mood.
"We're setting off on the plane tomorrow," He continued, "So we want you packed up by tonight."
Chantelle's face dropped, "Tomorrow?" She gasped, "But I have so much to do!" She complained.
Her father just frowned, lines appearing on his forehead, "The only thing you will be doing today is clearing up that house you made such a mess of; that's right, we know about the party."
Chantelle's jaw dropped. "What party?" She lied, trying to look innocent.
Her father clenched his jaw, "We're not stupid Chantelle, we know what you did last night while we were away. Didn't we tell you about the cameras we had installed into the house?"
"THAT'S AGAINST MY PRIVACY!" Chantelle screeched, jabbing an accusing finger at her father, "You can't just go round spying on me!" She protested.
Her father sighed, "We're not invading your privacy unless there's any cameras inside your bedroom...which there isn't. It's not your house Chantelle and you have no right throwing parties behind our backs." Her father said firmly. "they'll be no secret parties from now on. We'll make sure that the next time you decide to wreck our house, we will call the police on all your "guests". This is the last time I'm allowing you to get away with this. We're sick of you wrecking our house everytime we go away on business trips." Her father warned.
Chantelle stood up, grabbing her handbag and slinging it over her shoulder.
"You can't tell me what to do!....I have....RIGHTS!" She snapped, spinning on her heels before proceeding out of the coffee shop.

But just as she reached the door she turned her head round again, flicking her long blonde hair to the side. "And for your information: I wont be going to New York, you can drag me kicking and screaming onto that plane if you have to!" And then she left, storming out of Starbucks and slamming the door behind her.

And that's exactly what they did.