Chase's departure was marked by my depression and refusal to leave my room.

When Jack visited, the Bitch attempted to coax me out of the lavish pit I'd locked myself into, faux worry in her tone, but I'd refused point blank. Later, I'd received a text from her saying that, if I ever pulled another stunt like that in front of Jack, I would be thrown out.

Finally, after three days of not moving, my stomach was in enough turmoil to tempt me out of my near catatonic state.

The house was, as expected, almost always empty. The Wicked Bitch was at work in Los Angeles, which was where she spent most of her time, tormenting models and designers alike. I was just glad that, as it was three hours away, I wouldn't see her unless it was a weekend.

The maids didn't exactly count as company; they didn't make any sort of conversation with me, even after my attempts at talking to them that had emerged from loneliness.

When the first weekend brought my mother back home, she didn't acknowledge me except to say that I could use any of her cars and her credit card as long as I stayed out of her sight.

Which was why I used it. I went crazy at one of the two local malls which, instead of just having stores like Hot Topic, Forever 21 or Urban Outfitters, was filled to the brim with stores like Michael Kors, Donna Karan and Ted Baker. Although the less expensive stores were there, they were practically empty all the time. I scoffed every time I saw that; only a suburb like this one could have that happen.

Chase and I lived in the perfect haven that was San Francisco. Sure, the cost of living was high, but we didn't need much. Chase worked, I was a normal high school student who had a job at a cafe and we shopped at inexpensive stores. We had a three-bedroom apartment that had just enough space for the two of us and the occasional guest. Life was, in all sense of the word, perfect.

It might have seemed hypocritical that I shopped at designer stores but, when I moved in with her and was given permission to use her card to whatever extent I wanted to, I decided that I would do as much damage to her account as I could, hoping that she'd go bankrupt. Of course, that wouldn't happen, but a girl could dream.

Also, I took great pleasure in swiping the card at every designer store in the mall but hers. Her label was called Tiffany Wentworth, with her having used her maiden name because her late husband's last name was, in her words, much too plebian.

Besides, I was a girl and I loved shopping. The kind of stuff I could buy with her money, wasn't normally available to me, so I used the situation to my advantage.

The rest of the month passed as quickly as I could expect it to, with me dreading going to my new school. I spent as much time as I could in bed, eating and watching Netflix. I binge-watched my way through Gossip Girl, Friends and American Horror Story, even though I'd seen all three shows more times than I could count and I ate too much popcorn and Nutella and ordered pizza every other day- Javier, the cute delivery guy, and I were even on first name terms.

I regretted all of that, though, when I had to go to the gym a block away every damn morning. Unfortunately, I wasn't the kind of girl who could eat whatever she wanted and not get fat.

Eventually, though, it was time for me to go to school. I knew I wouldn't fit in, especially because there were only two high schools in the district and these people had been going to school together for years.

But, after dreading it for the past month, it was time for me to bite the bullet and deal with it because it was finally the day. My first day. Mommy dearest was in LA and I had to find my own way to the high school she had signed me up in.

Thank God for Google maps.

I appraised my outfit of black jeans and a cute white, bell-sleeved, cold shoulder shirt once more, and made sure that the eyeliner that lined my blue eyes wasn't smudged before letting my hair out of its ponytail so that it fell against my back in soft waves. This would do.

The high school was a fifteen minute drive from the house, and after asking two people for directions, I managed to get there.

The building was unimpressive- it was a regular, large brick structure that was like every other high school. People milled around on the grass outside, chatting and catching up after their summer apart. I parked in the parking lot, with the school being so small that there weren't separate junior, senior and teacher lots. Like, really?

The cars in the lot were, however, far from ordinary. Mixed in with the simpler Hondas, Chevys, Toyotas and others were Porsches, Range Rovers, BMWs, Audis and, to my amazement, even a cherry red Ferrari.

I made my way to the entrance, needing to get my schedule and locker combination from the office. They'd emailed the schedules to the students earlier on but, since I was a newbie, I needed to go to the office for it.

People turned to glance at me curiously, unsure as to who the new face was. I recognized a couple of people from around town and from the years I'd lived there, but no one made an effort at making conversation with me.

The office was, unsurprisingly, easy to find. After attending a school that three thousand others went to, it wasn't hard to navigate my way through a high school with a population of one thousand and five hundred students.

"Hi," I said, approaching the plump, redheaded receptionist whose placard read Mrs. Geist. How Clueless. She seemed nice enough, though, and greeted me with a wide smile.

"You must be Taylor Channing." She said, and I was slightly taken aback. How was it that she knew who I was? "You're our only new student this year." Mrs. Geist clarified, noting my confusion.

"Do a lot of people generally transfer here other years, then?" I sounded snooty, I knew, but she couldn't sense the derision in my tone which, after I realized exactly what I'd said, I was grateful for.

"Oh, there's usually at least ten, honey, but no one new has moved here in a while. Apart from you, of course." She smiled warmly at me and I found myself smiling back. She was the first person in this place to treat me like a human being. Well, excluding Jack.

She handed me my schedule and combination, instructing me on where exactly my locker was locating because, as she'd explained sheepishly, the school didn't have maps.

After reassuring her that I'd find my way around, I took my leave, focusing on getting to my locker and, hopefully, finding someone to help me along the way.

When I left the office, there was a boy standing right outside. He was a brunette with a decent build. He looked like a preppy frat boy, though, with his polo shirt, khakis and Sperrys. He was cute, but wasn't the best looking guy I'd ever seen.

"Hey, are you Taylor?" He asked, immediately upon seeing me. It was almost as if he'd been waiting for me and, to be honest, it was kind of creepy.

"Yes..." I replied, eyeing him oddly, "Who are you?" I questioned, blinded by the shiny, white-toothed smiled he sent my way.

"I'm Charlie Melton." He answered, holding his hand out for me to shake, "Jack's son." He added, when I still just stood there, obviously confused.

"Oh, of course." I said, shaking his hand once, still a little overwhelmed, "It's just that Jack never mentioned a son."

"Why am I not surprised?" He rolled his eyes, and I let out a short laugh. Charlie seemed nice enough. "He asked me this morning to find you and make you feel welcome here. So, come on, let me see your schedule."

"Why, so that you can stalk me?" I teased, handing it over anyway. I had a feeling we'd be friends.

"Why else would I want it?" He examined the paper for a second before looking back up at me and saying, "You're lucky enough to have your first friend at Bridgetown High with you in homeroom and during lunch. I'm not in any of your other classes, though, but I'm sure my friends are. If you want, I don't think they'd mind sitting with you."

"That actually sounds really nice." I agreed, "But, I think I should really just find my locker first."

"Oh, yeah, what's the number?" He asked, and I glanced at the paper Mrs. Geist had given me before answering, reading off the sheet, "Uh, 423."

"Hey, that's the same hallway as mine." Charlie said, "Let's go."

We were met by multiple people along the way, all of whom greeted Charlie enthusiastically. He was, apparently, Mr. Popular around here. That did help make me a few friends, though, as a really pretty black girl named Tamsin had offered to sit with me in English that day just because I was with Charlie.

Charlie kept me company during homeroom and, let me tell you, he was one of the most hilarious people I'd ever met. He also introduced me to his girlfriend, Ally, a petite blonde who was cheer captain. Although one would expect her to be bitchy, she was actually really accommodating and didn't mind me spending time with her boyfriend in the least.

I had Physics first period, though, and that was something that I really was dreading. I wasn't really a science kind of girl, but I had been signed up for all my classes by my mother's personal assistant, who'd picked all the generic ones like Psychology, English Literature, Calculus and Physics.

"You must be my newest student." Mr. Barker, the teacher, a bespectacled little man who barely reached my shoulder said, donning an excited grin. He was much too happy for a Physics teacher, especially on the first day of school.

"Yes, I'm Taylor Channing." I replied, waiting for him to give me the green light to go and get a seat. I'd been warned that there were teachers who would have me introduce myself in front of everyone and, from the looks of it, this one was probably one of those.

"Why don't you introduce yourself to the class, Ms. Channing?" Mr. Barker asked eagerly, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they slipped down for the third time since I'd spoken to him. This had to be a joke. Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Barker addressed to the full classroom, "Class we have a new student here today. Be nice to her."

"Hi, everyone." I greeted reluctantly, with a sarcastic wave, ignoring the snorts and chuckles people had let out at my awkwardness. "My name is Taylor Channing."

"Tell us something about yourself, Taylor." Mr. Barker pushed, and I found myself one step closer to breaking those stupid little glasses of his.

"Uh," I was confused about what exactly could I tell them about myself without coming across as a complete and utter loser. "I just moved here from San Francisco and I like to read." While my admission was kinda dorky, I spoke with confidence and, honestly, I'd come to realize that that was pretty much the difference between life and social suicide when it came to high schoolers. No one really reacted negatively, so I assumed that I was good.

"Go find a seat, Taylor." Mr. Barker gestured at the few empty seats in class and, I looked around carefully, just settling on one beside a guy wearing a letterman jacket.

Just as I was heading over there, he spoke, "Yeah, Taylor, sit here. I can help you catch up." He crooned, high-fiving his friends as they laughed.

Ugh.

I made no attempt at hiding my revulsion as I sat down at the only other free desk. The desk actually had another free right next to it and, honestly, I should have just sat there.

The seat beside mine remained unoccupied for the rest of class and I relied on the girl sitting in front of me, a very bubbly redhead named Chelsea, to help me get caught up with what was happening.

Class couldn't have gone by slower and, when the bell finally rang, I felt relief flood through me. Mr. Barker was a decent teacher and he was really passionate about his subject, but I just couldn't deal with Physics.

Ally was standing by the door of my class and, leaving me pleasantly surprised, she offered to help me get to my next class, which was English Literature.

This, at least, I was sure I'd enjoy.