*// LOOSEN UP MY BUTTONS BABY.

[JULIETTE CORNELIA VANDERBILT]

you've been saying -
ALL THE RIGHT THINGS ALL NIGHT LONG.

"Thank you for checking in, we hope you will enjoy your stay and the party. Your bags have been moved to your room and transportation has been arranged to take you to the beach site," the man at the front desk told Juliette, his thick Greek accent reminding her with every word where she actually was. Greece, her favorite place in the entire world, practically. And now, most of her favorite people in the entire world would be here with her also, at the annual back to school bonfire, this year being held by her childhood friends the Austerlitzs. She nodded in reply to the man, before spinning around on the heels of her leapord print Tory Burch flats, the soles clicking against the marble floor of the Austerlitzs' private hotel. Juliette entered the elevator, thinking about the outfit she had picked out to wear to the bonfire party. She was planning on wearing a short, form fitting mini dress, with intricate designs all around the top, tall, strappy heels, and either letting her hair just fall down in its natural waves or putting it up in a loose bun.

A loud ring broke the silence of the area around her as the elevator doors slid open. Juliette exited the enclosed compartment and walked down the hallway, pulling out her key and unlocking the door when she reached her room. A small, pleased grin appeared on her face at the site of her Louis Vuitton luggage sitting in the center of the stylish room. The eldest Vanderbilt child skipped across the off white colored carpet and threw open the doors to the large closet in the room, where she had requested for her dresses to be hung. There it was, the gorgeous, specially made outfit for the night. Juliette reached up and grabbed its hanger, then carried it into the room before setting it carefully upon the bed. She stripped quickly and then put the dress on with a bit of struggle as she attempted to zip herself up, but finally succeeded. The eighteen year old grabbed her purse, hustled into the bathroom, and sat down in the chair tucked under neath the counter. She kicked her shoes off and peered into the mirror in front of her, critically stared at her reflection, then glanced away with a smug look. She found no faults in the make up artist's (whom she had hired before the short jet ride) work, thankfully.

Juliette stood up and walked back into the main room of the suite. She bent over and unzipped her suitcase, then grabbed her heels, which had been carefully tucked in, next to two other pairs of shoes that she was planning on wearing the next day. Her feet slid in perfectly, and she was ready to go.

The eldest Vanderbilt walked out of the room and into the hallway before proceeding to the elevator. She went back down to the lobby and exited the building, then headed straight to the shiny, expensive looking car that was parked just outside of the private hotel. A man opened the door nearest to her and Juliette stepped in, sitting down slowly as to not wrinkle her dress. The car sped off after around thirty seconds of waiting. In what seemed like hardly any time at all, the flashy car pulled to a stop, and someone appeared to open her door again. Juliette paid the young man no mind as her eyes took in the scene of the bonfire before her. She raised her eyebrows and slightly pursed her lips in jealousy, but wasn't able to stop the smile that overtook her face. Her brown eyes flicked up over the Mediterranean Sea to watch a flash of fire works go off in the air. Here she was in Greece again, at the back to school bonfire once more, although this time it was different, due to the fact that it was the last time that she would ever get to go to this party again. With that in mind, she knew that it was going to be the most fun of these parties yet. She would make sure it was.

[JEWEL SAMEDI CAMPBELL]

Jewel found it incredibly difficult to take any of this seriously, but really.. Who was she to turn down any kind of party? The burn of liquor at the back of her throat, the potential to end up with some kind of delicious arm candy wrapped between her long, slender legs. What position was she in to deny herself that right? It’d been a while, especially since she’d been a bit occupied previously and unable to engage in the activities of the beautiful and rich. Now, thankfully, she was a free girl, reality had set in and she was free to do as she pleased once more. Life had taken it’s toll for about a year, she’d paid her dues, and now she was back right where she started. Thankfully. Some dismal, deep part of her had stressed over her inability to return to life the way she’d been through it before, although it was obvious now that that wasn’t to be worried about. Sliding first one foot into the high, arched pair of shoes at the end of her bed, and then the other into the opposite shoe, she flickered her eyes to the valet boy she’d picked up earlier that evening, lounging naked on the couch, and offered him a smirk. Someone would be losing their job, and it wasn’t her, considering she was lacking desperately in that department. Embarrassed of her wealth, even though it was freshly acquired? Never. Never in a million years.

“Louboutin. A good brand.” the voice came from the couch, and Jewel managed to find it within herself to disregard it, despite the pull of her brain to respond. Not important. Not worth her precious, well-spent time. A small smirk adorned her red-painted lips as she just looked at him, acknowledging that he’d said something but keeping her mouth shut and her body from running into his arms and calling him daddy, just as she’d done not five or six minutes ago. He didn’t last very long. Fastening the strap around her ankle, still wearing only a bra and a pair of barely-there underwear, the girl stood on strong, tennis-toned legs, and slid the form-fitting black mini skirt up over her hips. They hadn’t had enough time to take it off before cabana boy was finished, and although she disdained to say it, she was actually pleased with this fact. Should he have taken any longer, they would have been late. Finally, an utterance came from between her lips, apart from the ultimate denial that she was even thinking of touching what was between those bronzed legs of his. Since she’d accomplished the latter, might as well take the former into consideration. “First, don’t speak to me as though you know me. We fucked, and that’s it. Second, I’m sure you know nothing more of Louboutins than what the bottom looks like -” pausing to grab her clutch off of the counter, she tossed a twenty at him. “- third, get the hell out of my room before I call security and say you were trying to molest me.” upon seeing the dumbfounded look on his chiseled features, Ms. Campbell made a shooing motion with her hand, “Allez, allez.” she spat, the French coming easily in comparison to her born and bred English. Commands were so much easier when no one understood them, and this way she could easily say he’d been trying to take advantage of her fourteen year old ass.

Waiting for the click of the heavy paneled doors to signify his retreat, she smirked to herself, gathered her hair and tossed it over her shoulder, and pulled the shirt she’d made from an Elie Saab couture gown she’d found somewhere back in her hometown. Having cut off the bottom, it made for an extremely well-fitting blouse, and she rather enjoyed the destructed edges at the end of the pearl-encrusted silk. Gave it a rough, personal edge. Offering herself a once over in the mirror, she ran a hand through her thick, glossy hair and lit a cigarette, moving so goddamn easily down the backstairs in the Austerlitz-rented hotel, keeping away form the swarms of people that were undoubtedly crowding the foyer. The buddy-buddy aspect of the old money families made her want to puke her guts up all over their expensive Persian rugs. Thankfully, the beach was only a couple feet away from the hotel and it wasn’t likely that it’d take her very long to get there; in summation about fifteen minutes was spent trekking on her nine-hundred-dollar shoes, but it was well worth it. Finishing up her initial cigarette, she lit another and was halfway to lighting it when another figure slammed into her own slender one, a male, his sweaty body smelling of cheap booze and suntan lotion. She gagged, but not before the impact from their crash sent her scrambling for purchase and subsequently bumping into another figure, this time definitely female. Men didn’t wear dresses. She didn’t fall, but she might as well have; the effect was the same. “Hey, you fucking asshole, you owe me a goddamn drink.” she said, the curse words filing out of her mouth and probably giving away her status, but she couldn’t give two shits. Dragging on the cigarette once more, she turned slightly back to look at the other female and rolled her eyes once her gaze landed on the familiar, paparazzi-friendly face. “And a stiff one, I don’t want a pussy drink. J.D, straight up. Go get it.” she ordered like she was talking to a personal service, not someone who’d just slathered her one half of a couture gown in disgusting Banana Boat sun screen. “Why the fuck do you need sunscreen, it’s night.” she muttered, sticking the cigarette between red-painted lips for safe-keeping and wiping her arm, disgusted.

[JULIETTE CORNELIA VANDERBILT]

you've been saying -
ALL THE RIGHT THINGS ALL NIGHT LONG.

Whatever happened to 'best friends stand by each other always'? Weren't your best friends supposed to be the ones to always stick by our side, come and find you at parties, and never, ever leave you alone, standing by yourself at a back to school bonfire bash looking like an idiot who had no idea what they were doing there? Actually, Juliette Vanderbilt knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew how gorgeous she looked doing it. The eighteen year old just could not help but feel a little bit hurt that she had been standing there at a party on a beach in Greece for at least five minutes, and not one of her friends or new money followers had come to greet her. It was appalling, nothing like this had ever happened before.

Of course, Juliette could always have gone over to the large crowd surrounding the large fire, or traveled over to the area where many yachts floated gently in the water, and found an aqquaintance, someone that would be acceptable to be seen with, before going offon a search to find her true friends. They would most likely all be together in a large group, all catching up and talking about their summers. Well, all of them except maybe her twin brother. Juliette wouldn't be very surprised if Bastaain was charming some random girl, or if he had already past that, and was busy enjoying him self between the girl's parted legs. The eldest Vanderbilt rolled her eyes at the thoughts of her womanizer brother, then quickly pursed her lips, remembering that she had no room to talk. Juliette was with as many boys as Bastaain was girls. She was able to slip by with it, rather than get in trouble and disowned from the family for being such a slut, because she only slept with old money boys. The decision was made mainly to humour her parents and not give them too much trouble when they tried to cover up all of her rendezvous after boarding school hours with them.

Juliette reached to check her phone for messages, to see if one of her friends (or more than one, she wasn't picky) had called or texted her to see where she was, but then remembered that she had left it in her hotel room so that she wouldn't have to carry it around for the night. She had figured that she would see, be with, and be talking to everyone that she would ever text or call, and that there was no reason to bring her phone. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but obviously it was a mistake, she realized. Juliette had never even thought about considering what would happen if she couldn't find any of her friends. Never before had she come to a party, especially one so cool and important, one that she had even hosted a few years back, and just been left alone, standing stupidly. She paused her continuous flow of frustrated thoughts, taking in a deep breath to calm herself. It had been about what, seven minutes since she arrived at the bonfire party? It was nothing to get so worked up over, all she would have to do was just wait a few moments until she saw one of her friends, or they saw her. She took in another long, drawn out breath, then let it loose, the sudden rush of air making a whoosh sound. Really, there was nothing to get all worried over. Nothing to freak out about, nothing to get angry about. She told herself that she, her friends, and maybe even some of her siblings would soon be reunited for the first time since the start of the summer break, and that she would be fine and admired by a large crowd once more.

Her personal pep talk was interrupted as her focus slid from herself to a near by guy ramming into some random girl, making her spill her drink and sending her stumbling in Juliette's direction. The girl practically fell on top of her, and almost knocked the oldest Vanderbilt teenager down. The eighteen year old glared, then shoved the girl away from her. "Get off of me!" she shrieked, narrowing her eyes even more. Juliette was fairly sure that the girl was new money; she had never seen her at any childhood gathering with her friends, or when she had visited her friends at their different houses. The swear words (directed at the guy who ran into the girl) spilling out of her mouth effortlessly confirmed her suspicions: definitely new money. Any 'elite' girl would never cuss so much in a single sentence in public. Yes, most of them did let swear words slip a lot of the time, and it wasn't anything unusual to hear Juliette cuss, but she liked to think that she never over did it unless she was extremely pissed off. Which, she thought, the girl most likely was. The eighteen year old stared at the girl, attempting to remember her from the hall ways of Santa Croce, but wasn't able to bring up any memories of any sightings. The girl was pretty, but she looked young; most likely a ninth or tenth year. It wasn't uncommon for Juliette to pay no mind to new money students. "Who the hell are you?" she blurted as the girl rolled her eyes at Juliette.

[JEWEL SAMEDI CAMPBELL]

Pride was a trait that the young girl favored in both herself and others. It didn't seem like a difficult task to stand up for yourself, and those who shared that view with her earned her respect almost immediately. The challenge in that was keeping it, because for every instance where it might be useful and well-due, it was also on the verge of falling from the forefront of her thoughts. Jewel was volatile, angry. She spent a good deal of her time training for something, somewhere, sometime. God knew when it was going to happen, but she knew it was coming and thus complete mental preparation as well as physical readiness was absolutely necessary. That would explain her slim, sleek figure, as well as the blemish-free skin and perfect, pearly white smile. All weapons that Jewel knew how to use against anyone who wanted to fuck with her, as well as the lengthy nails at the end of her slender fingers and the muscles corded into her lithe, graceful figure. It wasn't like she couldn't defend herself, it was just that usually she lacked in vocal capability, and that was changing slowly, with every year of her short life that had yet to pass. Fingers moving to idly grasp her hip as she watched the gentleman retreat to go get her drink, she turned her attention back to the girl at her side, eyes taking her in once more to make sure it was really who she thought it was. A Vanderbilt, if she wasn't mistaken. So completely rich that she could use money to wipe her ass. In reality Jewel hated the old money families just as much as she hated the new money families and everyone else around them. It wasn't fair that they called themselves entitled because they'd grown up with a silver spoon in their mouth; the majority of them had never had to work a day in their lives, and had no idea what it was like to grow up broke, and then one day come across a metaphorical land mine of opportunity. They could kiss her size-zero ass cheeks, for all she was concerned about status and 'class'. Jewel lived how she pleased – not to mention when the time fit the circumstances, and her own conditions – and she never thought twice before opening her mouth to say what was on her mind.

All of that explained her late reaction to the girl's question, a mere smirk and a shake of her head. “Au contraire, who are you?” it wasn't like she would openly spit out her identity, not until the other girl did, and not to mention, the discreet acknowledgement that she meant absolutely nothing was present in every dripping, seductive syllable that tumbled out of her over-educated mouth, hung from her luscious, reddened lips. “As of right now, just some insignificant bitch who broke my fall,” she stated, eyebrows raised. Confrontation was her favorite game to play, and now was no different than any other time. Just because she did actually know who the other girl was didn't make it special; it didn't give her entitlement to some sort of automatic triumph. The callous twist of her lips wrote it all over her face. And then, as if he was there to personally interrupt ever sing crucial moment in her life, the man who'd run her over before came back, smelling a bit worse if that were at all possible. Swinging his heavy arm around her narrow shoulders, the man leaned in close, sloshing a bit of his drink on the ground. In one swift move, she had his nutsack in between her painted fingernails, pinching as hard as she could with a frustrated expression on her pretty face. “Thanks,” she muttered, snatching the drink out of his hand. “Unfortunately, the majority of it made it to the ground, rather than the cup.” pointedly, she let go of him and he fell backwards a bit, scrambling off. Sure, she was a bit frightening and her behavior was definitely a lot less than ladylike, but defending herself was necessary and she couldn't be smelling like a bonfire. That was just... unattractive. Much like the frown she was wearing. Raw expression had never been one of her strong points, and ultimately she'd usually end up in something like a mask of indifference.

Bringing the slim paper roll back up to her lips, she wrapped her mouth around the edge, sucking in and leaving a bit of a pink imprint on the blank sheet, lips curling into a smirk as she watched the eternal kiss tattoo itself onto the cigarette. Good lord, boredom ensued. “I don't suppose I should expect a depressingly long tangent on why I misbehaved and exactly how you're going to spend the next year making my life hell, should I?” she questioned, taking a sip of her drink. “Because if so, that's terribly predictable of you, and your status as queen bee might be ripped from beneath you by someone who knows how to do it better.” she shrugged, eyes drifting halfway out to the beach and then momentarily back again, some sort of curiosity, much like the cheshire cat, present in her lips, her eyes. The curve of her cheek. Jewel was, as almost always, a walking enigma.

[JULIETTE CORNELIA VANDERBILT]

you've been saying -
ALL THE RIGHT THINGS ALL NIGHT LONG.

Juliette was a bitch. If you asked practically anyone who attended Santa Croce, specifically any of the students who fit under the category of 'new money', because they were the ones to whom she mostly acted rudely toward, what the best word to describe Juliette Cornelia Vanderbilt was, almost all of them would agree: bitch. One could argue, saying that she was conceited, spoiled, and elitist, but all of those things lead up to her being extremely rude and snobby to a large amount of people. Anyone who was classified as 'new money' at Santa Croce Academy was default hate for her, because she felt that she, her family, and her friends were all better than them, and therefore she was rude to the new money students, whether they ever did anything to her of not. Anyone who ever insulted Juliette or one of her close friends: automatic extreme dislike, although for more obvious reasons than the time that they gained their wealth and/or how much of it they have. If the eldest Vanderbilt felt that she was better than someone, more beautiful than someone, wealthier than someone, or cleverer than them, she could (and sometimes would) treat them as if they were less than the dirt on the bottom of her shoes, and just feel even better about herself. It was completely messed up, the whole bitchy, spoiled rotten rich girl act, but it had run in the family, and Juliette was just carrying on the tradition. No one would ever think bad of her for doing so. Well, no one she cared about, anyways. Her family and their bank account took care of everything. She could burn down the Milan police station and get away with it- for a bribe from her father, that it. She was fine with contenting herself with being a total bitch to others whom she believed herself better and more important than.

The eighteen year old's dark brown eyes opened and closed with a blink, taking less than a second. They then began to take in the shaking of her head and the smirk on the face of the young girl in front of Juliette, whom she still did not know the name of. The Vanderbilt twin raised her eyebrows slightly when the girl replied, taking in the message that the girl was not going to give her name yet and that she did not know who Juliette was. The twelfth year almost gasped out loud, and quickly shut her mouth, which had fallen into a small 'o' in surprise. How in the world did she not know who Juliette was? The vain teenager's nostrils flared slightly and her eyes, which had been carefully lined and were covered by eye shadow, widened in shock and anger. She was featured in magazines, had pieces in the society section of the newspaper about her, and had been featured on Holy Mary's, Santa Croce's 'gossip girl', blog thousands of times. Obviously this girl was a ninth year, she must have come from a place far, far away, and she definitely had not done her research on the social workings of her new school, otherwise she would have known who she was talking to. Then the girl spoke again, this time igniting fury inside of Juliette. Who did this nobody think she was, calling a Vanderbilt an 'insignificant bitch', and raising her eyebrows at her like that. She glared as a reply fell from her glossy lips before she even thought about what she was going to say: "I'm one of the most important people you'll ever get to even see, let alone talk to."

Juliette took in a deep breath, and then slowly let it out in an attempt to calm herself down. The guy who had shoved the rude, nameless girl into her came back, with a drink in hand. Then the young girl actually pinched his crotch when he threw his arm around her, and then stole the liquor. The eighteen year old glared at him, not breathing through her nose so that she would not inhale his awful stench. The younger girl brought her cigarette up to her lips and puffed, then spoke again. Juliette narrowed her eyes slightly as she listened to the words, which practically mocked her. The twelth year snorted quietly. "'Queen bee?' Where do you think we are, the set of some dramatic high school movie? And no, I think you know perfectly well what the consequences are to being such a little bitch to me, and even if you didn't, I wouldn't waste my time on you, because you're not even worth it." No, it definitely wasn't her best, but it was all that she could come up with off of the top of her head and without any friends standing behind her. Juliette looked around once again, to see if she could spot anyone who would be able to back her up and spread rumours about this bitchy little girl.

[JEWEL SAMEDI CAMPBELL]

Social order honestly meant absolutely nothing to Jewel. She could care less if someone was supposedly better than you because they had more friends, or because they had more connections or whatever the fuck it was that made them so holy and grand. Money? She had it too. She could throw it around just as obviously. However it offended old money families that new people were rising to their levels of wealth, she had no idea. It just didn't make sense in her mind. They were born with it, and if anything, people who just managed to grasp their cash flow should have more respect for working harder to get it. Not that it mattered much to her – she obviously defied whatever laws were set out in front of her anyway, so it didn't make a difference one way or another what someone else said or did. Jewel was her own person and she found it consistently convenient to say as much, however frequently as was needed to remind people that it was a bad idea to unnecessary to fuck with her. And that also probably explained why this girl was so completely useless and irritating in her mind. She'd probably grow up to be married off to some spawn of someone else who'd made a deal with the devil, probably have perfect little kids in her cookie cutter life and never have fun, never truly taste what it was like to live unrestricted. Jewel hated that in people. She'd rather die then have her most basic right revoked – the freedom of will, of opinion, and of speech. She could say what she wanted, because really, who was going to stand up to her? Most of the things she said proved her to be a lot more mentally able then people considered at first glance. To be honest, she probably looked like everyone else's stepford kid, and she understood that. Perhaps that was why she fought the standards so vehemently. She didn't want to be just another girl in a sea of them. She wanted to be the best. In her mind, she was the best. So this cuntbag in front of her was really doing nothing to improve her ridiculously testy persona. A small smirk fell across her lips, and she shrugged, nonchalantly insulting her even more by saying she didn't give a flying fuck. None of this would have started if it weren't for the way she'd addressed her to begin with – now a competition had started and Jewel wouldn't be contented until she'd completely obliterated the opponent, which was the Vanderbilt slut in front of her.

“Obviously that's why I know you, and that's why I give a flying fuck what you think.” the sarcasm dripped off of her accented words like honey, landing with a pooling sort of rhythmic flow at the bottom of the container. In reality she could care less what happened, which may have been why she was fucking with this girl to begin with instead of dancing her life away by the bonfire and then sighting her target for later. Crossing her ankles delicately as she stood, she let another smirk befall her pretty little lips and turned her head slightly, taking in the swarm of elite socialites making their name known to society, dresses in everything from Phi to Gareth Pugh and enjoying themselves so much in their ten thousand dollar outfits that it should be illegal. Clothes should never be that expensive, and yet, who was she to talk? She who was wearing shoes expensive enough to feed a family for months on end, and had cut a couture gown in half to suit her own benefits? Furthering that, what did she care? Her inheritance was enough to run a small country; she could live off of it for the rest of her life and still leave millions, if not billions when she died. It was ridiculous. The money that had been poured on the Campbells put everyone else to shame. Or it did, until she moved here and surrounded herself with like kind. Some part of her was masochistic. Seeing as she hated these people, her justifications were questionable and her thoughts were a bit swirled on the subject. But that may have been why she did it – anything that caused complication or drama was completely fair game.

Her eyebrows quirked as the girl pointed out that queen bee sounded like something out of a movie, and she offered a noncommittal sort of cold, malicious grin. “I don't think it was me who was going on about how saying what I think will get me in a load of trouble. Perhaps you're taking your weekly soap operas a bit too seriously. As for wasting your time – you clearly don't have anything better to be doing, or you would be doing it.” taking another drag on her cigarette, she stubbed it out under the platform of her Louboutins. “Where are your friends? If we're really going by roles in a high school hierarchy, you should have a band of loyal followers, no?” the cynical outlook Jewel had on life was showing through so vividly, it was a wonder she didn't write screenplays like Juno for a living. She'd make a killing. Bringing the cup up to her lips, the girl took a delicate sip of the liquor and ignored the familiar burn it made on it's way down, the feeling something of a comforting symbiotic relationship.

[JULIETTE CORNELIA VANDERBILT]

you've been saying -
ALL THE RIGHT THINGS ALL NIGHT LONG.

The life style of the rich, famous, and elite was filled with expensive clothes and shoes, ridiculously costly vehicles, gourmet meals, extremely deluxe homes, and outrageous, wild parties. It was the life that Juliette lived every single day, and had been living for the past eighteen years of her life. She loved it, receiving every single thing that she could ever even dream of wanting, right at the exact time that she wanted it. Her love for being elite had only grown over the years, grown to a point of being an obsession with the social hierarchy and always having the newest thing before anyone else. It was just how she had been raised, and her feelings about how she lived her life had been encouraged by her family. Her parents were simply delightful to her during her childhood, and had raised her as if she were growing up as a princess in a fairy tale. She was pampered to perfection. Whether it be taking one of her father's fancy cars out for a spin before getting to the age to get a license or letting her go to Paris, France, on a month long shopping spree/vacation, Julius and Anne Marie Vanderbilt had given their daughter Juliette anything and everything that she wanted. Every thing her heart desired was fulfilled, no matter what. Sometimes she would have to put a little work in to it, by maybe intimidating a younger class men into doing something for her, or destroying someone's reputation and social life. The eighteen year old actually found scheming and plotting to ruin someone's self esteem and being a total bitch to people just as exciting and satisfying as a week spent shopping. Yes, the concept was extremely harsh, cruel, almost sadistic, in a sense, and definitely vain. Juliette did it all to secure the fact that she was the prettiest, the most powerful, and that she would always get whatever she wanted. Of course, the subject of 'power' at Santa Croce, and in the world, too, was disagreeable when talking about Juliette. She wasn't the 'queen bee' of the school; that spot was basically shared by a large group of girls (all old money, of course), although the eighteen year old was definitely near, if not at, the top of that, too, along with being at the top of Santa Croce Academy's social ladder. The eldest of the Vanderbilt clan wasn't extremely power hungry, although she did have a fairly large care for it. Some of her friends were ridiculously so, which made her feel better, because she didn't even need to be worried about losing her spot at the top. It was comforting to her to watch people whom she called 'friends' (never her true ones, mainly the followers) sweat about social order while she was completely fine.

Dark brown eyes widened and eyebrows were once again raised in shock and unfamiliarity on Juliette's face in response to the rude, sarcastic remark that came out of the mouth of the girl. "Look, bitch." She paused, considering what to say next. "I don't give a shit if you care a 'flying fuck' about me, or not," she lied. On the contrary, she cared what everyone thought of her, practically, unless they were calling her a bitch. "Because you're really not worth my time and attention, and you're little 'rebellious to the social order' act is getting old. Why don't you find a new personality, perhaps one that isn't as over used? Not caring about having a horrible reputation among people who matter is a bit unoriginal, don't-cha think? Obviously you're a bit young and naive, because reputations and social order is very important in the real world." Juliette held a wry, satisfied grin off of her face.

The girl smiled coldly, before speaking again, this time bringing up the fact that Juliette was standing alone, without any friends or followers. "You definitely knew what you were doing, and that's just as good as going on about it." The eighteen year olds nostrils flared slightly before she spoke again. "I have plenty of better things to be doing rather than speaking with you, and plenty of people better than you to do it with. I'm not sure if you noticed, but I had just stepped out of my car when you came crashing into me out of nowhere and almost spilled a drink on my dress." Okay, so maybe she was telling a few lies, not only to the girl, but to herself, but she had to as to help her case and confidence. "My friends? They're out looking for me. The same with my 'loyal band of followers'," Juliette said, making air quote with her fingers. "Going by the roles of high school hierarchy, they're not all geniuses. Just wait a few minutes, they'll be here." She tilted her head to the side cockily, even though her reply was nothing to be cocky about.

[JEWEL SAMEDI CAMPBELL]

Obviously comebacks and whatever else happened to come up in this girls warped, demented mind weren’t her specialty. It probably wasn’t often she was insulted. People clearly didn’t take her status for granted and that meant that she probably got whatever she wanted, that new money probably crumbled under her feet and the Austerwho-the-fuck-cares were probably a group of her best friends. Jewel thought it was stupid, she thought money was money and how you spent it meant nothing, nor did how you happened to get it. She was rolling in it, the douche bag standing in front of her was rolling in it, why the fuck did she care how she happened to come across it? Sure, she was probably annoying her, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Maybe offending her was the better way to put it. But frankly, it wasn’t like she had anyone else she knew even remotely to talk to except for that eccentric older Montague, and his weird behavior and just… stoicness. She’d be afraid of him, if she gave two shits about dying or not. She didn’t, so it wasn’t like it mattered much to her. Scratching the side of her nose, she took in the girl before her one more time, the Vanderbilt she pretended not to know or care about. The latter of the two was the truth; she couldn’t muscle up and offer one small bit of care if it would kill her first. She loved herself first and foremost and that seemed to be working out better then any other plan ever could, which meant that she wasn’t going to do anything different for the vast majority of her life. Love herself first, and then thine neighbor. Who gave a fuck about her neighbors? Further more, what kind of idiotic neighbor called themselves Brangelina? What was this, America? Christ.

She could have sworn she was in Italy. And this girl, with her pretentious outfit and horrible behavior, her quick-to-anger attitude when Jewel was actually pretty chill. She was a bitch, yes. She enjoyed fights and even occasionally started them, but it was less than typical of her to fuck with people who hadn’t done anything. When she was at fault, she knew she was at fault and left it at that. But this girl had pissed her off beyond belief with that horrendous greeting, and frankly she deserved to be treated better than scum under someone’s shoe. She wasn’t insecure, she didn’t need her, she could have walked away so many minutes ago and stopped wasting her breath. But it wasn’t like she had to do anything, and she didn’t have to leave. And she didn’t want to. Leaving would mean she was losing this round, and she couldn’t have that. If anything, Jewel was ridiculously tenacious and fascinated by every small retort someone could make. Cigarette stubbed out, she had nothing to do but stare until perhaps the other girl grew uncomfortable, and even then she would continue staring. Until a smirk cracked her lips, that was, and she was forced to be out with the one statement that was on her mind. Ignoring everything else she’d said, she summed the whole argument up in one sentence. “You should go looking for them.”

She nodded, turning her vision away from the girl. If anything else came anywhere near her, she would toss her drink in the girl’s face and then leave the lame-ass party that hardly had anything she was vaguely inclined to do there. An interesting year? Maybe. But that had nothing to do with the fact that she was bored out of her mind. Where were the illicit sex tapes and drugs, the alcohol that circulated under the watchful eye of the teachers. Where were the massive foam parties? Everything she’d heard about this stupid school had been false. these people were no more wild then a pack of house cats and she was growing tired of it already. Obviously some danger was in order to make sure things stayed the same as she liked them - shaken, not stirred. “I’m sure they’d appreciate you putting forth a little bit of effort, if they are, indeed, your friends.” she shrugged. Not that she was good at maintaining relationships of any kind. After what had happened with her parents, god knew she was a little inept when it came to that area of her life. Attachment wasn’t something she frequently had, or was bothered to have. It took far too much work and she was, in essence, the laziest person this girl in front of her would probably ever come into contact with. She liked to toy with people, she liked to put them around their little finger so they were intrigued and play games, and when it came to fighting, that was her favorite one. Needless to say, she kicked ass at games like battle ship. All it took was a little bit of touching under the table and the other person would undoubtedly glance uncomfortably at the spot where their biggest ship was - she also took names down when playing chess and games similar to that. As of right now, she was sure the female would walk away in a huff and leave her to enjoy her drink, which would be sitting safely in the cup, because no one would bother to tip it out of her hand and she wouldn’t dump it on the female if she was gone and out of her hair. Win-win situation.

Taking a sip of her drink, she positioned the cup so she could place her hands winningly on her hips and offered a victorious smirk, her grasp tight in case the occasion arose. She wasn’t about to smell more like vodka then she did on a daily basis - too much perfume of alcohol and cigarettes couldn’t have been good for the nose.

[JULIETTE CORNELIA VANDERBILT]

you've been saying -
ALL THE RIGHT THINGS ALL NIGHT LONG.

Why the fuck was she still standing there, by the bitchiest, most disrespectful, and most inappropriate girl in the ninth year? She was a Vanderbilt, for Christ's sake, she should have been hanging out with large, old money family the Lefebvres, or partying with the hosts, the Austerlitzs, or either pestering the new Montague to tell her where he had been for the last eighteen years or seducing him. She should definitely not have been stuck arguing with this rude girl who wouldn't even tell Juliette her name. This was the party of the year, and she had just arrived at the beach. Already she had gotten involved in a fight, not surprisingly, although it was not anything extremely dramatic. It was just a bit tiring and upsetting, and it sure as hell wasn't how she had planned on starting off the night. When the eighteen year old had pictured her arrival at the party, she had imagined being immediately surrounded by a group of wannabee followers, before finding one of her best friends - preferably Lillian Austerlitz or Alexandrine Lefebvre. Or both, she wasn't picky about that matter - and enjoying the rest of the night with them. She had planned on watching the awe-inspiring fire works and being a large part of the envy-inspiring party. Juliette had told herself earlier, on the plane ride over to Greece, that she wouldn't get totally wasted, just a little buzzed, and that she wouldn't go home with just any guy; it was the start of a new school year, her first conquest had to be suitable. Mingling by the bonfire in the musky, wood scented air, chatting with her friends over by the yachts, flirting with lots of hot guys, enjoying the imported beer, and wading in the cool water of the Mediterranean Sea were all on her planned agenda of the night. And now, all of her great and fun plans were tumbling down faster than a house of cards outside on a windy day. All because this unimportant girl crashed into her and was now wasting her time and offending her. After all, she was one of the first people to ever really question Juliette and actually be rude to her. The twelfe year was shocked, and was not at all ready to have to come up with witty comebacks to the girl's seemingly never-ending intelligent replies. Every time the oldest Vanderbilt said something, and assumed that there was no way that the girl could have anything to say to it to out smart her, she did. It was incredibly frustrating.

God, she just wanted to walk away never see, speak to, or hear about the girl ever again in her life. But she really did not want to go right then, before knowing for sure if she had been the 'winner' of their argument. Her dark brown eyes darted around the area near them, to see if anyone was watching to witness her victory- or her humility. No one was looking or eavesdropping on their conversation; they were all enjoying the party and getting drunk. Juliette glared jealously at a group of tenth years, who were all dancing around and having fun. That was what she was supposed to be doing. They didn't notice her harsh stare, so the eighteen year old turned back to the girl, who happened to be staring her down. She refused to let it make her uncomfortable, the girl looking at her. Not saying anything, just staring. The oldest Vanderbilt rolled her eyes when the girl suggested that she should go looking for her friends, in what Juliette thought sounded like an indifferent tone. So maybe the argument was cooling down. Maybe there was no reason to stick around. After all, all she wanted to be doing was enjoying the party and watching other people get all stressed out over drama, not be the one having to put up with shit herself. In fact, it probably would have been a whole lot easier if she just walked away. She could forget all about the ninth year bitch... for the night, at least. "You should mind your own business," Juliette said with a sigh.

The eighteen year old eyed the drink in the girl's hand with envy. A drink sounded very good right then, and staring at one, the girl practically flaunting it around, was not helping. The girl spoke again, to which Juliette just rolled her eyes. No reply. She didn't feel like putting forth 'effort', whether they'd appreciate it or not. Call her lazy, but after having an argument with an extremely witty girl who questioned her authority at Santa Croce was tiring, upsetting, and it made her very stressed out. All of the sudden she felt the sudden urge to just slap the girl, but that would have been extremely inappropriate. Satisfying, yes, but most certaintly inappropriate. Her feet itched to take the few short steps forward, to put herself within arms reach. Her right foot slid forward a few inches, but then she made herself stop. She spun around on her heel, Juliette's back facing the girl, before speaking one last time, waiting a few seconds to see if the girl had a reply to her words before she walked off. "Welcome to Santa Croce, bitch."