If Only Being Switched at Birth Was Easy

/15/ Richie Rich Goes Punk

Just as I didn't want the extra attention, the morning announcements at school had to congratulate me on the gymnastic accomplishment. I just rolled my eyes and slouched in my chair, seeing as no matter how many people clapped or started nasty rumors about my win, they wouldn't remember that I was sitting at the back of the classroom, listening in seeing as we've been in the same class since the beginning of the year.

"I'm starting to feel distant from you," Adam told me at lunch as he rode his skateboard off campus. I shrugged.

"You never tell us anything," Ryan added.

"Maybe because you're too busy to care," I responded. They gave me a glance.

"Stop being a girl about it," Danny said. "If she wants to spend her days only telling a few people shit, then let her."

"You sound like King," Ryan mumbled.

"Actually no. Because I would say 'lay off, or I'll lay your ass out,'" King corrected. A couple of us laughed and then a group approached us.

"Weird seeing all of you here," a familiar person (who I hadn't seen in years) said.

"'Sup, bro," Danny said, breaking the tension. I looked over to King and noticed as he stood frozen. I remember how he and Darren got into a major fight—so much that King kicked him out of our group. He was enraged for days, but a week later, I found him hanging out with Darren again. I never told any of the guys, but as they reunited and conversed with Darren and his group of drop outs, it seemed as if it wouldn't have made a difference if I had or hadn't.

"Who are you?" one of Darren's friends said to me as he leaned on the wall to the left of me. He had shaggy blonde and brown hair that was obviously dyed several times and a tattoo that stuck out from the top of his shirt. He had piercing hazel eyes for intimidation but of course I wasn't scared of him.

"Maybe if you went to school, you'd know me," I retorted. Even though I hated school, I hated drop outs. Especially Darren's kind of drop outs that did that only to lazy around all day, smoke, and drink.

"You don't go to my school," he said.

"And what's school's that?" I asked, doubtful.

"It's on the northeast side," he shrugged. I narrowed my eyes.

"Rich boy," I accused.

"Rich girl," he responded and I looked down because it was the first time I was meeting someone who hit home with the knowledge my whole family fortune situation.

"Yeah...love birds, sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch to eat," King said. I shrugged and started to walk away, but the boy pulled my back and I suddenly felt writing on my right forearm. Landen, he had lastly written.

"Call me," he smiled sweetly.

***

Over the next few days I had done my research on the new rich kid trying to sling it with us outsiders. Landen Ross was a seventeen year old son of an actress and photographer and was already worth two million dollars without contributing anything into the world. That being said, he admitted to his money but didn't exactly flaunt it. Even with friends like Darren, he never cracked when asked for money. I had also learned that he didn't even tell his parents about his friends' behavior...for good reason.

"So why do you hang out with people like Darren?" I asked Landen as we sat outside the gates of the skate park, days after I had met him. His bio intrigued me and I figured if anyone was going to reason with me—as a wealthy person with a bad rap—it would be him. Something else interested me about him though.