The Beautiful Club

I sit on a chair inside the BC (Beautiful Club) room. It's the biggest studio inside the university. We do our daily hang out here. Every week we have our own photo shoots. The Beauchamp family owns it all. David's family are filthy rich. Too bad that David is stupid.

Everyone in the club has different class schedules. And so not everyone could actually hang out every day. Sometimes it is noisy in this room, sometimes it is silent. But one thing is for sure, the BC room is filled with lots of beautiful persons, including me, of course.

I am holding a pen between my slender fingers. A blue notebook is on my other hand. We don't have photo shoots today, and we don't have club activities either. Everything is just plain and ordinary. And in days like this, I am surely bored to death.

There are no official rules in our eccentric club. David said that you just have to be beautiful and popular. So we are not really obliged to attend daily hang outs. In fact, some club members won't actually hang out with us in the BC room. I only see them when we have photo shoots or cosplays.

Charlie and I have been in the club for two years. But we are only close to five members. They are David, Irisha, Peter, Soleen, and Craven. Seven of us are the consistent members of the Beautiful Club. Well, we have not been eliminated ever since we joined. Other members were already kicked out or have been reinstated at least once.

Today, Peter is busy on his laptop. There is a black ledger on his lap. I think he's calculating the club's expenses. What else will he do, anyway? He is the vice-president, but he is also the treasurer, auditor and well, the skilled photographer.

Peter Williams is a rich tyrant, too. But he is very greedy when it comes to money. He even told David not to hire photographers on our photo sessions. It's alright, by the way, because Peter is a talented man. He could do almost anything in a skillful way. And honestly, he is my favorite member. If only David is not stupid and reckless, I would have liked David more.

David is currently sitting on the coach. He is reading a romantic book (but I think it's more like a porn book)—as he always does. He is often loud.

"Oh, Juliet!!" I hear him snap. Whenever he reads a romantic line, David will recite them. Sometimes I think he is just a frustrated romanticist.

"See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!" David continues romantically, then his voice changes into something ladylike, "O Romeo—Rom—"

"Will you please stop that, David?" Peter yells at him and I almost dropped my pen. I see Peter fixing his reading glasses up on his nose, glaring so bad at David. He is scary that way.

"You're mean, Pete." David replies. He sourly flips a page and read silently. There are times that I wonder why he is a Beauchamp. He never studies. He is absent in his classes most of the time. David told us that Peter is his best friend. But Peter denied this claim.

I am bored looking at Peter's hands on his laptop. So I turn to Soleen who is making origami. A pile of Japanese papers are scattered on the floor. Soleen is quite timid. Her bob hair is brunette and her bangs made her look so cute.

"Don't you have class, Sol?" I hear Craven asking her. Craven is a meticulous person that it could be sometimes boring, especially when it comes to class schedules. He doesn't like cheating in any form.

"I skipped." Soleen replies nonchalantly, still making her paper dolls.

"Why?" Asks Clover. Oh by the way, Clover is a previous member who is still hanging out with us despite being kicked out. She has a long, black hair and it is naturally straight. She is more stylish than Irisha. She is the oldest, too. She is twenty three. She's been allowed to come here despite not being a member anymore because well, she doesn't listen to anyone. Also, she's David's cousin. A Beauchamp.

"I hate numbers." Soleen answers. Her small hands are busy folding papers.

"I hate them, too." Clover agrees.

Irisha Joules, on the other hand, is majoring in Economics. She is Mr. Beckery's scholar. Irisha is a sophomore. She ranked number one among the female members. Soleen Gregory is a junior in Finance. She is ranked second. I major in Fashion Marketing and Management, a sophomore, too, and I ranked third.

When Irisha didn't join yet, Soleen was ranked first and I was second. But now I am third. At first I don't like it, in fact, I hated Irisha for it. But it couldn't be help. People love dramatic profiles. And Irisha Joules has a dramatic profile!

She is a commoner, you see. Yet very beautiful and brainy, so a lot of people favored her than I. My profile isn't so dramatic except that I have a handsome twin brother. And well, mind you, being rich isn't dramatic at all—it is boring people.

Craven Bennington is taking up Political Science. His father is the Governor of Florida and he is therefore expected to take his father's path. Craven will graduate next year. He is ranked fourth among the male members.

Peter and David are juniors in the university. They are classmates. My twin brother, Charlie, is also a sophomore like me. Charlie, David, and Peter are all in the business side of the world. They're expected to acquire an MBA.

In this club, David is ranked one—the most beautiful male in the club for three consecutive years! Well, I couldn't agree more. He's really handsome, but I don't agree he has common sense. Peter is ranked two. And Charlie is always ranked three.

Miss Clover Beauchamp Baron, on the other hand, recently graduated last year. I often call her Miss because she's older than me, and we're not really that close to call her by the name. She majored in International Business. She used to be rank one before. Until now she hangs out with us in the BC room at least twice a week.

But honestly, she likes Peter. That's why she is still hanging out with us. I think Peter has noticed it already, but is just pretending he doesn't.

Oh well, just like any other day in the BC room, everyone is busy on its own. Peter has his laptop on. David is reading a book. Soleen is very passionate in her origami making. Craven and Clover are sitting next to Soleen, ordering her origami in a clean line. And when I look at Charlie on the other side, he's busy talking to Irisha. And I am here busy of being alone. Great.

Charlie laughs and I glance over them. He's smiling, laughing, and his eyes are sparkling over Irisha. He looks so happy. And I waited, and waited, until he will glance at me. But it doesn't happen. Stupid.

I see him pat Irisha's head, just like a pet. And I wish I am her. Charlie used to pat me like that. But recently, he wouldn't. He put his right arm on her shoulders, and he whispers something to her that she blushed. I clutch my chest because it suddenly hurt. I don't notice I am already clenching myself. So my pen almost broke.

Seriously.

I startle when Charlie glances at me. But briefly, I smile. I give him a thumbs up to reassure him that he's doing well with Irisha. But he sighs. Then he goes back talking to her. Is he mad?

I cleared the misunderstanding with Irisha this morning already. I did what he told me so. He could at least smile back at me. Irisha even laughed at me when I said sorry to her. The nerve. She told me earlier, "Why are you sorry, Chaise? It wasn't a big deal."

Gah. It wasn't a big deal to her. But to Charlie is was greater than a big deal. He is really madly in love with her. And his love is stupid enough. Sometimes I want to see Irisha as my real friend—have a girl talk with her, shop with her, laugh with her. But because she stole Charlie from me, I couldn't really like her at all.

Charlie snakes his arms around her slim waist. I widen my eyes. Why does he do that? They're on that level now? The nerve. He isn't holding anyone except me before. Charlie should be holding me and not Irisha.

Wait. Hold me what? Seriously Chaise?

Wait. Don't tell me Irisha has returned his feelings now?

Are they a couple now? Irisha wouldn't let him hold her waist like that before. She used to slap him all the time. She doesn't this time. Does it mean…that?

I feel moist under my eyes. I am surprised myself. When I couldn't help it, a drop fell. I quickly wipe it off with a hand. I am afraid that someone might notice. I don't even know why I cried.

I smile pathetically.

I open my note and start writing on it. I think I am bored. I wrote and scribbled things on it. I hate this feeling. My hand is shaking, either in pain or jealousy. And then my pen fell off my fingers. I pick it up and write again. But why? Why am I shaking and teary?

"What are you writing, Chaise?" David peeks over my shoulders and I almost jump from the chair. I don't notice him coming to me.

"Nothing." I tell him. But I am stuttering. I scratch my hair ridiculously. But David leans closer and is desperate.

"You're so busy writing. What's on it, Chaise?" He asks again. Then I see him widen his blue eyes. He covers a hand over his mouth. I am starting to have a bad feeling about this, especially when his expression is unreasonable and comical.

Don't tell me David has noticed something in my notes?

Just the thought of it makes my heart thump so fast.

But he is dumb, right? He couldn't have noticed it himself.

My train of thoughts are stopped when David's next words appalled me to the tenth power.

His eyeballs become wider.

"Oh no!" He snaps. "Don't tell me Chaise you're…you're resigning from this club? Is that a resignation letter?"

Pfft. I roll my eyes at him. I overthink too much. But how could a man be this dumb?

Is he doing it on purpose? Or is it natural since birth? I feel sorry for Mr. Beckery. I feel sorry for Elaine. I feel sorry for Clover. And I feel sorry for myself because I like David even though he is stupid. But wait, my like and Clover's like is different, okay.

"There's no such thing as resignation in this club, David." Peter suddenly butts in. He adds, menacingly, "We kick people out."

Oh, right.