If I Were a Rich Girl Read online

  If I Were a Rich Girl

  By Sherri Renee

  Copyright © 2018 Sherri Renee. All right reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and events in this book are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarities to real persons either living or deceased, locations or events is purely coincidental.

  Books by Sherri Renee

  Contemporary Young Adult Romance and Suspense

  Forest Ridge High Series

  High School Hero

  High School Heartbreak

  Second Chances

  If I Were a Rich Girl

  Just One Kiss

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Sneak Peek - High School Hero

  Chapter 1

  Being the new kid always sucked. Out of all the schools I’d attended over the years, this was the first one that required a uniform. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet. I tugged at the skirt, trying to coax another inch or two out of it.

  I couldn’t exactly say it was immodest. The skirt hit mid-thigh, but I would’ve been more comfortable in jeans and sneakers.

  Overall, the outfit was kind of cute. The blue blazer covered a white button-down which was pretty simplistic. The blue tie with green and white pinstripes, matching plaid skirt, and knee-high socks at least made it fun.

  I felt more like I was going to a Halloween party as a naughty school girl than to my first day at the ritzy-ditzy Stratmore Academy. I grinned at that thought. I was about as far from a naughty-school-girl as you could get. I, Mirinda Amberley, was the textbook definition of a good girl.

  I never gave my parents any worry, and even delegated myself chores without being asked, since they were always so busy working. I didn’t run around with the wild crowds, or date boys my parents would think were dangerous. Heck, I’d never even been kissed. Not that I was opposed to kissing. It was just that when you moved as much as we did, it was hard to make friends, much less boyfriends. I wasn’t interested in kissing a random guy just to say I’d done it.

  Yeah, that majorly added to my complete “lack of naughtiness” factor.

  The sun peeked through the clouds and beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. Other than the cuteness aspect, blazers in Texas were a terrible idea. I blotted my forehead. The last thing I wanted was to show up on my first day sweaty and crumpled like some kind of wilted flower. Not that people would notice anyway. I was more “wallflower” material on a typical day.

  As I neared the school, I forgot the heat and my steps slowed. Cars weren’t really my thing, but I knew enough to guess the cars in the student parking lot probably cost more than my parents earned in a year. I mean, the fact that Mrs. Grayson, their current employer, was paying my tuition as part of their salary should have been a clue that the kids who went here were loaded.

  I stared at the shiny new cars with a touch of worry. I’d expected at least a few clunkers in the mix. Wasn’t every school required to take on some scholarship kids? What in the world would I have in common with anyone here?

  A car horn blared. I jumped back as a deep blue BMW whizzed two inches in front of me on its way to the parking lot. The pretty blond driver shot me a nasty look, but it was the boy in the passenger seat that held my eye.

  His brown hair was stylishly tousled. A flush colored his cheeks, and his jaw was set. He appeared totally ticked. I was close enough to see deep brown eyes framed by heavy lashes. When those brown eyes locked on mine, the world around me froze. His expression didn’t alter, but his head swiveled as he drove past, watching me for as long as he could.

  My heart danced some kind of samba in my chest that—along with the crazy heat—left me lightheaded and faintly dizzy. Oh, my. Talk about gorgeous. I wondered if all the guys at this school looked as yummy as he did.

  I wasn’t surprised to see him with the attractive blond. Even though she seemed snotty, while he was all hot and brooding, they looked good together. Probably the school’s power couple.

  I tried to rein in the burst of jealousy that sprang to life in my chest. I would never know what it felt like to be one of the “in” kids at school. We simply moved too much for me to make good friends. Plus, I was more prone to be shy and awkward than gorgeous and snotty, and from what I’d seen at my past few high schools, snotty was a key to popularity.

  Who would have guessed it?

  A hot pink sticker on the Beamer’s back window claimed Happiness Begins In You. I rolled my eyes. Leave it to a rich girl to go for something profound. She probably thought “happiness began in her,” but I doubted she’d be too happy at all if Daddy took away her sporty little car.

  Shaking that thought away, I inhaled slowly and took in the imposing three-story stone building in front of me. It was hard to believe this beautiful old building was a school. With its stately brick walls partially covered in ivy, it looked like it should be part of a royal estate or something.

  My parents took their new jobs specifically because it gave me a chance to attend a prestigious high school like this. With Mom as a cook and Dad as a jack-of-all-trades, they’d had a lifetime of barely scraping by. Now, they wanted better for their daughter, and were determined I needed to graduate from some fancy college to ensure I got it.

  I was all for college. I’d already been accepted to Rice, one of the best colleges in the nation in my opinion. I just didn’t think I needed to attend a prep school to prepare me for it. The local public school would have been a better fit.

  When I got to the end of the sidewalk, my eyes flicked from one group of students to another. Some stood around chatting while others climbed the steps to the oversized wooden doors that were every bit as imposing as the school.

  Every person there had something about them that exuded wealth and confidence. Even dressed in matching uniforms designed to equalize us, I knew I’d never have that same aura they’d probably been born with.

  My shoulders slumped. Yep, public school would have been a much better fit. I swiped at my forehead, which was now as clammy from nerves as it was sweaty from the heat. Lovely.

  Most of the kids going through the front doors were younger, probably too young to have a driver’s license. They’d been dropped off by their parents. Or chauffeurs. Or however these kind of people got around.

  Thankfully, we lived within walking distance so my parents didn’t have to drop me off in our station wagon. Yes, our one and only car was straight out of a 70s sitcom.

  I got it. The car ran great and had room to haul around all their stuff when my parents had catering jobs. But being seen climbing out of it her
e would have crushed my social status before I walked through the front door.

  A rueful smile tugged at my lips. In what alternate reality did I have a social status to be crushed? Laughter came from my left, and I found a group of kids talking and enjoying their last few minutes of freedom before the day started. An unconscious smile turned my lips as I wondered what it would be like to be part of a group like that. To belong.

  Mom insisted it would be different in college. I’d be starting as a freshman like every other new student, and I’d be there the entire four years. I’d finally have a chance to make friends and fit in, according to her. I’d been an outsider for so long, I only half-way believed her.

  With a deep breath, I trudged up the imposing steps and pushed my way through the front door before stopping, awestruck and intimidated by the ornate decorations inside. The floors were a dark polished wood and reinforced my original opinion that they belong in a mansion, not under the dirty feet of hundreds of school kids.

  Dark wood trimmed the walls, while ornately-framed plaques and pictures hung, evenly spaced, giving an imposing but overall clean and uncluttered look. I had an eye for stuff like that.

  Interior design had always been my secret dream job, but I doubted I would ever go that direction. My parents equated artistic pursuits—like Mom’s cooking and my interior design—with just scraping by financially.

  Mom was a wonderful cook—like, people tasted her food and begged for recipes, but even so, money had always been tight for us. I believed once Mom opened the restaurant she and my dad always dreamed of, things would take off for her. Unfortunately, opening a restaurant took money, which they wouldn’t have until they were able to open a restaurant. It was all one big messy loop so far.

  They wanted me to take a more financially secure direction with my future, and had decided interior design was just as fickle as catering.

  Business degree here I come. Yay, me.

  I glanced around for the office. There were several doors nearby, some open, some closed, but not one of them dared have anything so tacky as a sign above it to mark its purpose. I heaved an irritable sigh as I tried to decide which direction to go. Great, now I was going to be late.

  “Excuse me.” I grabbed a short, dark-haired kid’s sleeve to get his attention as he walked by. He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering a little too long on my exposed thigh. Little perv. I tugged at the short skirt again. “Where’s the office?” I asked.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth while his eyes roamed to my chest.

  Wow. I guess money didn’t buy manners. “Hello?” I waved my hand in front of his face. “Office?”

  His eyes finally moved to my face, and he gave me an approving grin. “What do I get for telling you?” he had the nerve to ask.

  I wanted to tell him exactly what he was going to get if he didn’t cut the crap, but I couldn’t take any chances of getting in trouble here. My parents would kill me—and then die—if I got kicked out of the school they believed held the key to all of their hopes and dreams for my future.

  Spinning away from the half-pint jerk, I took a chance, walking to the first open door to my right and sticking my head in. It looked like an office. A really fancy office with solid wood furniture and a chandelier rather than the fluorescent lights that graced my previous schools, but still an office.

  The woman behind the desk wore her dull gray hair scraped back into a severe bun. She sat so straight I wouldn’t have been surprised to find a ruler jammed down her navy cardigan. I could tell just by looking at her that she was a barrel of fun at parties.

  She turned, as if sensing I was there, and raised a brow behind the round, wire-rimmed glasses, which sat perched on her beak-like nose.

  I took the look as a question. “I’m Mirinda Amberley. This is my first day.” I added a shrug, figuring that was about all she should need to know to point me in the right direction.

  She took her time eyeing me up and down. I discreetly pulled my shoulders back and sucked in my stomach under her appraisal. Her expression never changed, so I wasn’t sure if I passed her silent inspection or not.

  She slowly stood, and I’m pretty sure her spine never curved in the slightest. “Yes,” she said with an air of disapproval. “We’ve been expecting you. We don’t usually accept students in their senior year. Mrs. Grayson has assured us you’ll have no trouble catching up.”

  Her voice held a note of irritation. It wasn’t hard to guess that if it had been up to her, I would be at the public school right now. That actually poked at my pride enough to make me determined to earn my place here.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said when she raised an eyebrow at me. “I’ve always been in honors courses, and I’m a hard worker. I’m sure it won’t take me long to catch up at all.” I wasn’t sure of anything, but that didn’t matter. My family might not have been rich, but I’d inherited a double helping of my parents’ pride.

  “Hmph.” She sniffed at me before turning to pick up a manila file from her desk. “This is your schedule.” She slid a crisp white sheet of paper from the thin file.

  “And this is your debit card.” She passed the card and schedule to me. “All school purchases, including your lunch, can be paid for with this, but absolutely nothing else.” She somehow peered down her nose at me even though she was at least a couple of inches shorter than my five feet, eight inches.

  Yep, just as I guessed, she was a blast.

  Chapter 2

  After begging directions from a passing student, I found my first class at the top of the grand staircase and all the way at the end of the hall. Not only was I sweaty and winded by the time I got there, I was late.

  The heavy wooden door opened with a low creak, and I cringed before stepping inside. Just as I expected, every set of eyes in the class focused on me.

  Well, every set but one. Holy guacamole. The hot guy from the Beamer was sitting in the second row with his attention on his phone. The temperature in the room shot up several degrees. How did one guy manage to have all the good genes in the gene pool? Shouldn’t those be spread around a little more evenly?

  Nah. I decided I was glad they weren’t. This guy would probably never know my name, but just looking at him was a treat to my senses. And I sounded as pervy as the kid who’d tried to undress me with his eyes in the lobby.

  Thankfully, the teacher cleared her throat and yanked my attention from Mr. Gorgeous, or I might have been tempted to simply stare at him for the entire class.

  “Can I help you?” the teacher asked, sounding annoyed. A pair of glasses topped her graying hair. She smoothed a hand over her snug black skirt which emphasized a set of hips entirely too wide for her tiny top.

  “Yes.” I pulled out my schedule, unfolding it. “I’m Mirinda Amberley. Is this,” I focused on my schedule, First Period Mrs. Priest, World History, “World History?”

  “Ah, yes. Mirinda Amberley. Mrs. Grayson’s, um,” she cleared her throat before adding, “protégé,” in a nasty tone that made her sound like she was in pain. A few kids snickered, and a rush of whispered conversations spread around the room like wildfire. Mostly among the girls.

  My fingernails bit into the palms of my hands. Why didn’t she just come out and call me “the charity case” and get it over with? Why couldn’t I fit in for once? I didn’t want to be the new girl, or the poor girl, or even the shy girl. I wanted to be Mirinda Amberley. Nothing more. Nothing less. Was that really too much to ask?

  A hundred snappy replies zipped through my mind, but not past my lips. No matter how badly I might want to say something, I’d been raised to respect authority. Even when they didn’t deserve it. I clenched my jaw and gave her a tight nod instead, and she pointed to an empty seat near the middle of the room.

  “Class begins at eight sharp,” she said. I darted another glance at Mr. Gorgeous as I made my way down the aisle to my desk. He was completely ignoring me.

  “I do hope you’ll be able to remember that,” Mrs. Priest
added, delighting in her own snide humor.

  My cheeks burned as subdued laughter erupted from around the room. I wasn’t sure what she thought being so mean would achieve. Did the thought of having a scholarship student in her midst offend her that much?

  I plunked my backpack on my desk and sank onto the hard chair. Glancing up, I found the driver of the Beamer sitting right beside me, wearing a perfectly evil, cat-like smile

  Great. Just perfect. I bit back a sigh, knowing her type and expecting the worst.

  She was even more beautiful up close, I grudgingly admitted. Her silky blond hair flowed in perfect waves. How did someone even get their hair to do that? I fiddled nervously with my full —read that as unruly—ponytail.

  Black eyeliner and mascara lined my self-proclaimed nemesis’s striking green eyes and made them pop while her full lips glistened like she’d just slicked on a coat of bubblegum-pink lip gloss.

  My brown eyes were deep and clear, and my other features were well-defined with high cheekbones and a slender nose. But next to this girl, I knew my simple ponytail and subtle touch of makeup screamed junior high. No wonder the twerp downstairs was hitting on me. He’d probably thought I was in his grade.

  I fought back another sigh. I wished I done a little more to fix up. I should have known girls at this school would dress to the nines even if they were just going to be sitting in classes all day.

  “Mirinda, is it?” Cat Eyes asked, flicking a sly look at the girls closest to her. “So, you’re like a charity case or something, right?” The other girls, with their photo-shoot-perfect makeup and shining hair, stifled giggles behind perfectly manicured hands.

  Cat-eyes didn’t beat around the bush with small talk, did she? I glanced up to see Mrs. Priest writing something on the blackboard. So much for her starting class and saving me from answering.

  I swallowed, and my cheeks grew warm as the girl smugly waited for an answer. Pearl earrings adorned her dainty ears, and she wore a matching necklace that probably cost as much as her car. She ran a ring-clad hand through her hair, reminding me of her movie-star perfectness and making me feel even more out of place.