**NOMINATE ME FOR FUNNIEST CHARACTER 2012 (BELLE WILKES) PLEASE.  Special Awards voting for the Wattys is ready! Go to the story you want to support, click Report and choose "Nominate a story..." **

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Silence.

We were sitting in this living room for approximately two hours, and we only talked about three times. Apparently, rudeness ran in the family because these rich brats were treating me like I was trash.

"So, Belle, where'd you get your shirt?" Casey, Nick's sister, asked after taking a long sip from her purple mug. "It's awesome."

I looked down at my ratty t-shirt. It was covered in stains, and there happened to be a few tears all over the black fabric. How did the pretty blond girl with the fashionable blazer think my old shirt was cute? It puzzled me.

"Oh, I got it at Wal-mar-te'."

She gasped giddily, acting like Walmart was some sort of high-end store. "Oh my god, really? Mother, we must go there sometime! I think I heard the Kardashians shop there!"

Sarah, Nick's other sibling, rolled her eyes after shooting me a death glare. "Case, you're such an idiot. Walmart is one of those poor people stores. I think they sell farming stuff there," she stated offensively. 

A perplexed look formed on my face. How could Nick be so smart and his sisters be so stupid? He was at the top of his classes, and Casey and Sarah barely understood the concept of sarcasm. Casey continued to think hard for a few more minutes until her sister's answer registered in her brain. She nodded in agreement, and I turned my head towards Nick.

"They're my half sisters. We have the same mom," he groaned, answering my unspoken question. He ran a hand through his tousled mane.

Nick's mother remained quiet. Her cold demeanor didn't exactly make me feel welcome, so I averted my gaze whenever our eyes met. She had on tight, 3/4 sleeve black dress that ended right above her knee. I noticed that Elise owned the same pair of shoes as her—ruby red pumps with a black bow on the top. Her face had strong features; she had cheek bones that could tear your skin to shreds. 

"Very funny, Ms. Wilkes. I wish Nick would've told me that you were coming...Charles doesn't really like Nick's...friends staying in the house with us when he's home." The tone of her voice was soft but had a menacing undertone. The way she paused at the word, friend, made me think that she saw me as one of Nick's bed buddies, not a project partner.

My friend's eyes enlarged, and he nearly spat out the brown liquid in his mouth. "Charles is coming home for New Year's Eve? I thought he would still be with his sister in New York."

Her head shook slightly before she spoke. "Yes, he should be here any minute actually. He texted me saying that he was just about to park his car in the driveway."

The slam of the door and a loud voice catapulted me out of my seat. "Honey, I'm home!"

"Oh, there he is! I told you!"

I tried to keep my mouth shut, but it threatened to drop. I had expected some Greek God to saunter into the room, but instead, an old guy wobbled in. He was definitely at least sixty; whatever grey hair he had left on his head was slicked back, and his back was curved. He was nowhere near attractive.

He leaned in and gave his younger wife a sloppy kiss, and then his head cocked to one side. After dropping his silver cane to the ground, he took a seat in one of the cream leather chairs and propped his feet onto the table.

"And you are?" His accent became more prominent.

And he was British! He kinda looked and sounded like Rob Pattinson high on acid. 

"My...friend," Nick snapped before taking a chug of his drink. Once he brushed off the whipped cream residue from his chin, he began leering his step-father over.

"Another prostitute? Tisk, tisk, my boy," he mumbled while stretching his arms above his head. His eyes closed and open a few times; he most likely was going to doze off soon.

Prostitute? Grimacing, I realized that my outfit could possibly be considered scandalous. The t-shirt shrunk in the wash, so it ended a few inches above my waist. My jeans were skin-tight and ripped all over, and Mel had plastered makeup all over my face before I left the South.

On the other hand, did he really think a lanky girl like me could attract a guy? I couldn't even attract flies to suck my blood.

"Actually, I'm his—"

"Sorry, she's just too good in bed for me to let her go. She's a kinky little girl," he joked after lacing our fingers together. A smirk slithered up his mouth; his blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

I smacked my free hand against my forehead. How embarrassing! He was always getting me in these predicaments, and I was too chicken to fight for myself. After pondering the situation over, I shrugged his comment off. No need to fight in front of his family.

"Disgusting. Do you have any class?" The left nostril of Charle's nose scrunched upwards, and a lime green booger was faintly visible.

"Class? You're talking to me about class? You asked my mother to marry you two months after my father died! You were his best friend. A shitty best friend," he retorted, jumping out of his seat. His back muscles tensed, and I could tell that he was too close to punching his dad.

I really should've pulled Nick back down, but I really wanted to see what was going on. The atmosphere in the room seemed to heat up, and everything was getting interesting. There was no way that I was going to miss this, so I pulled out my phone to take a picture of the action.

Nick's step-dad's fingers twirled the ends of his mustache. He appeared to be frazzled for a few seconds, but after he regained his confidence, he glared at the boy. "I was a great friend. It's not my fault that things got too wild in the bedroom one night, and your father had a heart attack. After I consoled her for two months, we realized that we fell in love, so we got married."

Nick's blue orbs rotated. "In love," he scoffed, "puh-lease. She married you for the same reason that she married my father. She was in love with your money, not you."

Instead of trying to defend herself, Mrs. Monroe just shoved a piece of cake in her mouth and dabbed the ends of her coral lips with a napkin. Grinning, Nick gestured to his mother once his point was proven. The old man gripped the arms of the chair as his hands clenched into claws.

"Your mother has no clue how much money your dad had. She doesn't even know how much money I have."

Mrs. Monroe lifted her finger up to quiet them. "Actually, Matthew had approximately $800 million, and you have $335 million."

Oh, lady, you obviously didn't marry those guys for their money.

As a spectator of this fight, I felt awkward. They were revealing their dirty laundry in front of me, and they weren't even trying to censor themselves. After planting my mug onto the table, my feet propelled me upwards, and I pivoted to leave.

"I'm just going to go now, and—"

"Sit down!" The loud and commanding voice of Nick instantly caused me to plop back into the cushion.

"Oh, shut up, Nicholas. No wonder Mom plans secrets trips during the holidays to exclude you. No one wants you," Sarah sneered as she moved towards her father. Her left hand, now on Charle's shoulders, rubbed it affectionately. 

The victorious smile faded from his appearance, and he jammed his hands into his pockets. "Why don't you treat me like I'm your son? You lied to me for years, saying that you were too busy to go on trips with me." His voice cracked at the last sentence, and it almost sent tears out of my face. He reminded me of a lost puppy.

"Nick, it's just that you're so focused in school, and you're always saying how much you hate Charles, and—"

The unforgiving look on Nick's face melted off as quickly as it came. A few seconds ago, he appeared to be crying, and now, his face was as hard as stone. "Forget it. I don't care," he mumbled nonchalantly, acting like he didn't just get his heart broken. "Let's go, Belle."

Without a second glance, he left the room, and I followed after him.

**

"Belle, you look fine! Stop fidgeting," Nick scolded while we slithered through the large crowd in his friend's house.

Frowning, my hands attempted to pull down the tight, leather bondage dress. It kept bunching up, making it appear shorter than it really was. It was strapless, super tight, and ended about five inches below my hip. After the fight with his family, Nick sent me to Casey's room to borrow a party dress. It took thirty minutes to find her closet since his stupid mansion had thirteen bedrooms, ten bathrooms, four living rooms, two pool rooms, a tennis court, a movie theater, and about a million other useless rooms.

"My underwear is flashing the whole entire world. I told you I wanted to wear a pair of jeans and a t-shirt."

I sighed as I remembered why I hated parties so much. I attended one in high school, and I had a terrible time. This party was an exact replica of the high school party, except this one had a ton more alcohol.

Nick ignored me. His eyebrows furrowed before a grin was smacked onto his face. His fingers interlocked with mine, and he pulled me towards a random boy. The boy had brown hair, and his nose had a tiny bump on it. A few freckles were scattered across his face, but other than that, he was cute, just not my type.

"Woah, dude, you already scored with a hot girl? She's like a ten on the scale," he slurred with pouring a glass of some stinky, orange liquid. His eyes roamed up and down my body.

A blush crept up my face, and I silently thanked God for making the room dark. Nick's grip tightened on my hand. "She's the girl I was telling you about, not some girl I picked up tonight. Anyone else from our friend groups show up yet?"

"No, man. Anyways, I'm Derek, Nick's best friend. It's great to meet you." He slumped away, fist pumping as he disappeared into the dance floor.

Nick snatched two red solo cups and shoved one into my hands. After pouring us a glass of liquor, he waited patiently for me to take a sip. I placed the cup onto the table, and he had a confused look on his face.

"What?"

"I don't drink," I stated with my head down, embarrassed over how lame and sheltered I was. 

"Do you even go to parties?"

I shook my head.

"You're a partying virgin!"

"Oh, shut up!"

His brown eyebrows wiggled up and down. "Belle Wiles, prepare to lose your innocence! We can go do a keg stand, do body shots, play beer pong, take some drugs —which one do you want to do first?"

I placed a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. With a sigh, I replied, "No, I'm not going to do that stuff. Do it alone, and I'll go into the corner with my juice box."

We stood in silence before he swapped my cup for another red cup. Suspiciously, I bent down and smelled the liquid. A fruity and enticing aroma filled my nose, and I had the need to take a sip.

"It's punch. If you don't want to drink, at least drink that."

I stared down at my drink. It looked like punch and smelled like punch. There was nothing wrong with drinking it then, right? It wasn't like I would get raped anyways. Who would want to rape me? No one for sure.

The sweet liquid exploded onto my taste buds, and Nick smiled in approval. He then dragged me away, into the large crowd.

I wished I could say that I knew what was going on at the party, but I really couldn't. After two and a half glasses of punch, I realized that the punch was actually spiked, but by that time, I barely could form sentences. Nick had convinced me to do a keg stand (I fell awkwardly and cut my leg), and I even did a few shots. He became hammered about an hour later.

"Toga! Toga!" I cheered as I pranced around the house in a soiled sheet I found in the upstairs bedroom. I tied it around me and began dancing. "Party! Party!"

"Woah, Belle. When did you get blond?" Nick chuckled; he picked up a piece of my curly hair and sniffed it. "Smells like cherries."

"Guess what, world? I'm a virgin!"

People soon began cheering, and thrill sent adrenaline through my veins. Giggling, I cannon-balled into the pool and removed the sheet from my body. By the time I exited the pool, the leather dress was sagging on me, but I didn't care.

"Hey, Belle, guess what. You have a nice ass," my friend slurred as he poked my tush. His brown hair, now covered in red ketchup, was jutted out in all different directions. He smiled lazily up at me.

"You kinda look like a stoned Einstein right now," I joked, keeling over with laughter. Wheezing for air, I slapped his hand away from my body.

"Thanks. You have small boobs. Like, I totally have bigger ones than you, and I'm a guy."

Before he could reply, a techno song we both knew began blasting throughout the house. We started jumping up and down and moon walking, which gained us a few stares. As we danced, I fell a few times, but I wanted to do the worm. Once I accomplished that, I swayed side to side on my heels. Derek decided to make a move while Nick was out of sight.

"I don't know why Nick doesn't try anything with you. You're like one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen him with," Derek whispered in my ear as his hands firmly grasped my hips.

"You are right, my good sir. I am a fucking catch, and I deserve someone successful. I deserve a bartender or a janitor!"

My eyes scanned the surroundings as we moved to the beat of the music. Many couples mimicked our dancing, but most of the people were making out under the rainbow lights. Some were even swimming in the pool. Nick had left a few minutes ago to grab another drink, but he hadn't returned yet. He was probably sucking the face off of some girl.

"You deserve me, babe." His hand furtively glided up my thigh, but for some reason, I didn't mind at the moment. We continued to dance until a shrieking voice made my attention focus on them.

"I can rap! Oh, Belle is really not swell, and she's dancing with my friend, who has a flat end. His hand is up her dress, and she won't confess that she likes it and that she's a slut!"

"Oh, yeah? You think you're like Eminem now?" I protested, yanking Derek's hands away from my torso. "Watch this! Nick is an ass without class. His hair has dye, and his fly is open in front of his small junk!"

Snickering, his best friend, using both his hands, pushed my back, propelling me into my enemy. My hands laced around his neck, so I could regain my balance. Scowling, I turned towards Derek, wondering why he had just done that.

"Get on you two. You obviously got something going on, so go home and just screw each other already. Plus, you're embarrassing yourselves."

I opened my mouth to argue, but when I did, my stomach flopped. The smell of the grungy house and the liquor caused me to kneel over, and hot liquid spilled out of my mouth.

So classy.

**

Not how I wanted it to go, but I really needed to get a chapter out. Guys! Southern Belle made #5 for Humor?!?!?! ISN'T THAT CRAZY?!?!? 

REMEMBER TO NOMINATE BELLE WILKES FOR FUNNIEST 2012. Special Awards voting for the Wattys is ready! Go to the story you want to support, click Report and choose "Nominate a story...

Limit: 100 votes, 40 comments.

Until next time...