Rich Bitch // malum & lashton

three

CALUM WOKE UP WITH A RAGING hangover. He could barely remember anything except for having a serious craving for gummy-worms. He tossed around in his silk sheets wanting nothing more than to just roll around and fall back asleep again. But he couldn’t because his alarm clock song that he had plugged into the surround sound was blaring. He never put it up this high. His parents probably did it because they were angry he got drunk again.

He sighed, getting up and turning it off. He gasped when he looked down, realising he was naked and hard. He didn’t even remember what he had a dream about. Probably Dani, his girlfriend. He shrugged, not bothering to put anything on, even if he knew his parents could come in. He went over to his walk in. He was thankful his parents sort of accepted the way he dressed. They did comment about it over and over, but never told him to change.

He smiled a little at the suits, because he felt confident and smart in them, but not comfortable. He opted for his black long-sleeved jumper and black jeans with some Converse. It was the first day of winter, and, true to its tradition, it looked like it was going to be a horrible day. He went into the bathroom that was on the end of his walk-in wardrobe, seeing that there was already Asprin waiting for him.

He went out of his room and down to the first storey where he hoped his parents wouldn’t be. He didn’t want to face the wrath of his mother and father yelling at him about getting drunk. He grabbed the Nutri-Bullet thingy out of the kitchen and made a banana milkshake; he heard they were good for hangovers.

He saw his mother walk in, so he quickly put the Nutri-Bullet back in action so he wouldn’t have to hear her. So maybe having loud blending noises right next to you wasn’t a good thing to do for a hangover, but it was a lot better than hearing his mum yell at him. He turned the blender off and opened it, pouring the contents into a takeaway cup.

“Calum!” his mother yelled. “I can’t believe what you did last night. You were an embarrassment! Even the poor kids laughed at you. One of them had to bring you home. Is that what it has come to? Poor people having to look after the rich people with a smirk on their faces?”

He smiled, saying nothing as he went out to see his bag was by the door. “Bye, mum.” He said.

Ashton was waiting outside for him in his sports car that had the top up because of how shit the weather was. He was the perfect example of a rich boy gone wrong. He didn’t speak, act or eat the way the rich kids did, but he had all the perks of one. Calum loved that. He didn’t love so much that his friend got absolutely smashed nearly every weekday, or sometimes injected drugs into his bloodstream.

Calum had tried to get him to stop it, but Ashton just got angry and walked off. He was worried for his friend. Worried was an understatement, but he didn’t know any synonyms for it. His only friend was Ashton; he didn’t want him to overdose and die.

“Hey,”

“Hey,”

“So, you ran off on me last night. Where’d you go?”

“I don’t remember a thing.” Calum said, drinking the liquid out of his takeaway cup.

“We scared the fuck out of those street-rats. You know, Hemmo and Clifford?”

He nodded, trying to think of a mental image. He’d never really taken any interest in them. All he really knew was that that Clifford kid was as poor as fuck and Luke had a mediocre amount of money. He’d never spoken to them before, because they were in a class below him and had a lower money status.

It was stupid, but it was almost like they relied on the Middle Ages’ hierarchy of wealth. If the people were in a stage below, they were either too good to talk to them or they had them as their servants. Everyone in his school talked down to the lowest stage of wealth like they were trash.