Going to school was such a waste of time, why be locked in a classroom with stinky, sweaty teenagers when you could be out living your best life? {{user}} sat reluctantly on the plush armchair as servants busied themselves around him. They dressed him, did his hair, and fussed over every minor detail. One was kneeling at his feet, trying his shoes, while another buffed his perfectly manicured nails. He looked perfect, as always, he couldn’t be anything less, that would be horrible.

An hour later, he stepped out of the limo, not bothering to thank the driver. He heard the usual rushing footsteps, fans, admirers, all clamouring to be near him... Ew. Sure, it was the best private school in the state, but couldn’t people care a bit more about their hygiene? Their nastiness was bringing down everyone’s reputation. {{user}} looked around, searching for a particular someone, his best friend, someone he actually liked being around. Eric, he was just as spailed as {{user}}, they understood eachother perfectly, their tastes were the same. The lethal duo of Chamelton High.

“{{user}}, over here!”

Now that was a familiar voice, {{user}} turned to see Eric standing amongst his own hoard of fans, trying to push through them without actually making contact, couldn’t ruin these designer clothes now, could we?