~I Don't Hook Up, Kelly Clarkson
Tryout for ME! This is my official audition set. Story will be up soon!
khloe beckman, 17
khloe is a new student, hailing all the way from los angeles, california. at her old school, she was the head bit.ch in charge, but here she's just another nobody. the upper east side has been a huge culture shock to khlo, who used to think ripped jeans and an ill-fitting sweater was stylish. but now that she's gotten acclimated to this lifestyle, it's only a matter of time before she makes the jump up.
model: andreea diaconu
taken by: istylista [hopefully!]
1. Khloe Beckham
2. Sarah Wilner
3. Caterina Skalski
4. Kyla Abbott
5. Paige Dorner
Having stared at my wardrobe for what seemed like hours, I gave in to an abstract looking sweater and paired it with my favorite pair of naturally-ripped denim shorts. Before exiting the room, I peaked at the full-length mirror that was propped up against of the walls in my new room. It hadn't been stuck onto the wall yet since we hadn't even gotten around to unpacking everything yet. Boxes and boxes and boxes were everywhere, some almost piling high up to the ceiling. The entire townhouse was cluttered with the random pieces of furniture or belongings that have somehow managed to get liberated from the boxes. Everything was complete and utter chaos. I had never moved anywhere before. The house I left in California was the house I'd lived in my whole life. The moving process was bad enough as it was, but the unpacking was worse. I absolutely hated the mess. Maybe it was my obsessive compulsiveness with cleanliness or maybe I just missed Los Angeles.
Taking the stairs by twos, I came downstairs and was confronted with more clutter and disorder. The untidiness of our new home made me want to cringe if I stared for too long. The movers were still bringing everything in from the truck outside and Mom was giving them orders, her hands planted firmly on her hips.
I opened one of the windows in the kitchen to let in some fresh air to clear my mind. Sharp cold air nipped my skin and I immediately regretted opening the window. The weather here in Manhattan was terrible and the view from our window was just as bad. All I could see was a busy city, tall grey building looming everywhere and the clouds were turning grey too. Rain started pouring down casually and I peered out the window to see an array of matching black umbrellas being opened, bobbing up and down as the locals carried on with their daily lives. Not one person acknowledged the sudden downpour.
What happened to my lovely view of the sparkling blue ocean? Where was my cloudless sky, with the shining, radiating sun? What about the cool, refreshing but definitely not freezing cold breeze that I was so used to?
I didn't like New York. Sure, I'd been here plenty of times for vacations, but we always went in good weather and it was usually upstate where my grandparents lived. Now were in Manhattan. Why would anyone leave beautiful, sunny California for this place? Of course the choice hadn't been mine.
I grunted and slammed the window shut.
"Sweetheart, Khloe, tell me what's the matter," my ever-doting mother rushed over to me. This meant leaving the workers unsupervised for a few minutes, which wasn't something Mom did often. She loved being in charge. Of /every/ thing. She put her hand on my shoulder, the Tiffany bracelet on her wrist jingling.
I jerked away from her touch. "I hate this place."
"Give it a chance, Khloe." She tried, looking at me intently with her emerald green eyes. "You'll love it, I guarantee you. There's that Le Rosey Academy we're enrolling you in, and once you've made some friends, you'll never want to go back to California." She paused for a moment and smiled, "This is where I grew up, you know." She said it as if she were saying it for the first time, smiling.
It had been her decision to move here. She said we needed a change. We couldn't just live in one place forever. I told her we traveled all the time. She said that didn't count. It was time for us to leave, try something new she said. What ever that meant. Besides, I knew she was trying to make it sound appealing. The real reason we were here was obvious, Dad had a new job offer.
I decided to face this situation head on. I went back upstairs, ditched my ripped shorts for a pair of leather pants. I opened one of my suitcases and dug around for an umbrella. I found my new Chanel umbrella and took it with me when I left the house. I should try to get a feel for this city, shouldn't I? And what better way than to go out and explore? Being this optimistic in such depressing weather wasn't a small feat.
It was difficult to walk around without bumping into someone every few seconds. I found myself in a busy coffeehouse. People were yelling at the baristas, coffee was being spilled all over and everyone was in a bad mood. I missed the relaxed, laidback atmosphere back in Los Angeles. . .
I ordered a vanilla latte and sat down in the nearest empty seat to me. As I waited for the latte to cool down a bit, I got a text from Wren. Wren was one of my best friends. Her text read, "It's not the same here without you, Khlo." I was in the middle of writing back something equally as kind to her when my phone buzzed again with another text. From Alex, my ex-boyfriend. His read, "Miss you." He was completely clueless. We'd been together for almost year and I was beyond ready to break it off but I never had any reason... I suppose the only good thing about moving here was having an excuse for splitting up with him.
I rolled my eyes at his message and went back to writing mine to Wren. After hitting send, I was hit by another wave of nostalgia. All my friends were back in SoCal. I missed them. I had nobody here. Sure, I had a few acquaintances from the charity galas and parties I'd been to on past vacations, but no /friends/. Not that It'd be necessarily /hard/ for me to make friends, I just knew it wouldn't be the same.
Across the cafe, a group of five or six Burberry-clad girls who were all sitting together in a booth caught my attention. I took my first sip of the latte as I watched them. They all had the Le Rosey Academy logo on their matching blazers. They were laughing, smiling, drinking their beverages, and taking pictures of themselves. Pretty much they were having a good time. One of the girls with caramel brunette hair and a natural-looking tan was really loud, her voice drowning out the voices of the other girls when she spoke.
"Alennie, oh my gosh, that was hilarious. Remember when--?" A girl said, a tall blonde with lashes so thick and long I could spot them from where I was sitting. I couldn't hear the rest of what she was saying to the obnoxiously loud girl whose name was apparently Alennie.
From the looks of them, those girls were the exact replica of myself and my inner group of friends. They were just Manhattan version of us.
Back in Los Angeles, I was the head of my group. I could just tell that I was going to fit right in. I knew by the time I'd walk into the halls of Le Rosey Academy, all heads would be turning to sneak a peek at the new exotic bombshell from California that would of course be me. I'd just saunter right over to the elite group of girls and they'd be on their knees begging me to join their exclusive circle.
Taking the final sip of my vanilla latte, I sighed with satisfaction. This place won't be so bad after all.