The Heaven I Found In Hell (2 page)

Maybe she had a point, but I definitely wasn't going to tell her that. I'm a girl, but I still had pride in myself, and I wasn't going to allow my mom to tell me to do 'this,' 'that,' and whatever she wanted. She was being totally unfair, and she knew it, but she was my mom who grew up living the easy life because of her large bank account courtesy of the President of some technology company, a.k.a. her dad, my grandfather.

"Mom, is that the only reason why you're sending me far, far away? Just because after how-ever-many-years I'm not going to be doing the same thing? And please mom...it's not like I’m going to do all that complicated addition and stuff on the streets..."

I wasn't liking this. I was actually hating it. My dad, who apparently was getting tired of us talking and reasoning out non-stop, decided to play a game on his cell phone. Yep…he was blocking us out.

"No. There are other reasons why your dad and I decided that this is the best for you…" She said in a motherly voice that was annoyingly shitty.

Our orders arrived, and the only one who touched the food was my dad. My mom and I were busy burning each other with our gazes and words. I knew she was starting to get irritated by my persistence of not following her, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't like her idea one bit.

"Then what are the other reasons?"

She let out a sigh. "Another concern of ours is your eating habits."

"Mom, I need to eat like that. It's needed in this industry." I explained. I wasn't anorexic, bulimic, or anything. I stood 5'9", and I weighed 115 pounds. That wasn't so bad, compared to some of the other models. I met one who had a height of 5'9", but she weighed 100 pounds. See…
I'm healthy!

"I know, and this industry is bad for you. Did you hear the news recently about a Brazilian model that died because of anorexia?"

I nodded my head, before I started to defend myself again. "Mom, she was like 80-something pounds. I'm a 115."

"Do you know what your BMI is?"

I could already foresee it…she was going to win this…

I nodded my head at her, and she asked me what it was.

"17. Last time I checked." I said, giving her a scowl.

"See, you're underweight."

"But I'm not anorexic."

She let out another deep sigh, and by the frown and the rolling of eyes, I sensed that she was getting irritated already. She exhaled again before she told me that I needed to stop reasoning out, because all the words coming out from my mouth were useless.

"Mom…" I groaned out, clenching my fists.

"No, honey. Stop it." My mom said, avoiding eye contact. She turned to her teriyaki and started to eat it with etiquette, just exactly the way she was, proper, confident, independent, and in-control.

I turned to my dad this time, who was busy with a plate of assorted sushi. He looked up from his plate and turned to me. "I'm sorry honey. I'm just in charge of earning money, and your mom has the rest…"

That was helpful…not…

"I never even got a say in this…" I said to the both of them, probably sounding like a ten-year old child.

"I said stop it, Alexandra." My mom said forcefully.

Okay, she's pissed. She just used my complete first name.

She pounded her fists on her table, and mouthed out an 'Enough' when I scowled.

By this time, a few tears had rolled down my cheeks, and I couldn't stop them from leaving my eyes anymore. My mom, who became even more frustrated because of my crying, raised her voice at me. She didn't care if other people were watching, and especially didn't give a damn about embarrassing me; all she cared about was herself, and the good image she had been trying to maintain all these years.

"Alex, you're going to boarding school whether you like it or not. You're seventeen, and a career isn't a must for you yet. While you're there, I also expect you to gain a few pounds, and I don't want you to be skin and bones just like you are now when you get back for Winter Break."

I continued to sob, and she just went on reprimanding me.

"Ridgeway is a much respected school with such high standards full of students who come from dignified families, a few of them we know and are friends with, so don't humiliate yourself and the family name. You hear me?"

Shut up…

"Alex, do you hear me?"

"I fucking hear you, alright!" And with that, I walked away, and left them to finish the rest of the food. I exited the building and got in my car and drove to the hotel I was staying in. I was going to pack up, go to the airport, and go to California.

That was where Ridgeway was. In California.

Ridgeway looked totally different from what you would expect a normal boarding school to look like. Unlike the usual red brick walls, and fields full of willowy and leafy trees, Ridgeway had a very modern design. It had panoramic glass windows that were lightly tinted, and the buildings in the school property had metal staircases with glass railings, while the fields had cemented walkways with decorative fountains.

I was inside the building where the dormitories were, and learned that apparently the girl's dorms were in the same building where the boys were. The only separation that couldn't actually be considered a division was the name East Wing, and another one called the West Wing. The East was where the boys' rooms were and the West was where the girls' dorms were.

Room W407…where was it…here you go!

I stood in front of a door with the letter W and the numbers 407 engraved on a circular piece of glass that was attached to the door. I took out my key, which was apparently a card just like the one found in hotels, and inserted it into the slot, unlocking the door, before I entered my room. The whole dorm was absolutely big. 
Just how big was it?
 Well...the room had separate bedrooms, and each room had its own bathroom. There was even a living room and a tiny kitchen, making it like a small apartment. After surveying the place, I noticed a figure of a woman my age sitting on a couch while she watched Entertainment Tonight on the LCD screen. The brunette lowered the volume and turned her gaze to me.

"Are you Alexandra?" She asked with a small smile as she crossed her legs on the couch.

She looked friendly, but for some unknown reason she intimidated me. I didn't know why. Maybe because I felt a little bit obligated to be close to her considering she was my roommate. I cut my train of thoughts short when I noticed her looking at me with a raised eyebrow. 
Oh great...she must think that I’m weird now for not talking.

"Yup, and my new roommate is…?" I asked her, also retuning the smile.

She stood up from the couch and went over to where I was, before she bent down and helped me carry my bags.

"No, it's okay!" I immediately told her when she picked up my heaviest luggage and started carrying it to my room.

"Don't worry about it." She said with nonchalance, the smile still on her face. "I'm Riley by the way."

Riley, as I now knew her was a brunette, and her chocolate brown eyes almost-perfectly matched her dark hair color. She was a few inches shorter than me, but nonetheless she could be considered tall. Also, her skin was darkly tanned, which indicated that she played some kind of outdoor sport.

"Oh, okay. Hey!" I said with a small awkward laugh.

She turned to me, and did a small hand gesture, before she cocked an eyebrow up at me.

"Are you nervous?"

I laughed. For a person who barely knew me, she instantly got me. "Just a little bit."

"I think I'm the one who should be nervous. Rooming with Alexandra Levi? World-renowned Victoria's Secret model?" She said with a tiny hint of amusement in her voice.

"No need to be." I said with a laugh. "Call me Alex, or even Lexy."

"Okay then Alex, what do supermodels like you do in their spare time?" She said, as she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for an answer.

I laughed at what she said, before I started to explain to her that there was no so-called 'break' in the fashion industry. "Oh God…spare time? That's like non-existent."

She arched one of her eyebrows up at me. "No kidding? Is the modeling life that busy?"

I nodded my head at her, before asking her what sport she played.

"How'd you know I'm an athlete?" She asked with one of her eyebrows arched up. We put my luggage down on my bed, and headed over back to the living room. She went over to the kitchen, opened one of the cabinets and got out a big pack of Ruffles. On my side, I went over to the living room couch and plopped down on it.

"Your tan." I simply said to her.

She looked at her arms which were a dark tan as I had pinpointed before she let out a laugh. "Well, you got that right. I play soccer and I'm part of the track team. I'm captain actually." She said with a proud smile.

"Really? That's awesome. I wish I could play a sport." I said to her before I pulled my legs up, crossed one over the other, and rested them on the couch.

I was telling her the truth about wanting to be athletic. I used to play a few sports when I was young, but I kept changing, so I never really became good at one. Now I regret being raised up as a spoiled daddy's girl. Because of the way I was brought up, I was used to getting my own way, and only recently had I felt a kick in the gut when my mother told me the devastating news that I was going to High School. But now I look at what I had been mad about...and realized that Ridgeway didn't seem so bad. The school was pretty; my roomie was nice...what could be the flaw...?

"Hey!" She said, lighting up, and forgetting to open the bag of chips in her hand. "The guys and I are playing soccer in a little while. You should come and join us."

"That's a bad idea…" I said, shaking my head at the same time.

Me and a sport…nuh uh…not a good match, especially a sport where you run around trying to catch a ball in an extremely huge field. No way…

"Oh no, just try!"

"Forget it, Riley." I said to her with a small wave of my hand. "By the way, the Ruffles are still unopened."

She laughed at her own stupidity, before she opened the bag of chips and offered me some. I shook my head, before I rejected her invitation respectfully.

"You're saying no to Ruffles?" She asked in mock-disbelief which made me laugh softly.

My eating habits never used to be like this. Salads, bread, juice...nuh-uh...I remembered when I was young...where I used to finish the Cold Stone ice cream, the numerous bags of chips, the oily pizzas, the thickly-sliced steak...those were the good days when I didn't care about becoming a pig...but now, the scoops of Strawberry ice cream I used to enjoy seemed like a nightmare...
Okay...maybe I’m exaggerating, but I know you lot get my point...