A Prep, that's what they call me. But, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be called that. I would be called by my name, seen as me, not as a rich girl. I've lived both sides of the coin, even though I hardly remember life before the riches.
If someone honestly asked me: If your Dad went bankrupt, and you lost everything, would that ruin your world? No, it wouldn't. I'd be happy. As long as it was me and my dad, I have everything I need.
I guess, that's what sets me apart from my "privileged friends." I put that in air quotes, because they aren't my friends. They are rich people in a group, with one thing in common: money. Do they even like each other? If you ask them face to face, they'll say yes and laugh at the very notion of disliking each other.
But, if you look deeper, and see how they actually are, then you'll see the truth. It's something subtle, like a sly glare. Or a rolling of the eyes, when someone brags about something. No Prep in all honesty actually likes each other. I even believe they don't even like themselves.
My story begins, on a particularly cool autumn day, almost twilight. Father had given me money to spend on whatever I liked, and I did just that. What surrounded me, was the lonely dirty streets of New Coventry. I would much rather live here, than in a mansion in Old Bullworth Vale.
I saw a homeless man, his clothes where old, soiled and probably the only thing this man had to his name. Right at that moment, I knew what I wanted to spend my money on. Making this man's life a little happier, even if he did spend it on booze. Better that, than some over priced piece of rubbish I'll never look at again. I noticed he had a empty paper cup in front of him, he sat there staring at the floor.
I removed the money from my pockets, five crisp one hundred dollar bills. I acted casual about it, and walked passed, casually dropping them into his cup. It felt good, knowing that he would use the money for something important. Then he called out to me.
"Hey Girlie!" he called, sounding completely surprised.
I turned around to face him. "Yes, Mister?" I asked, making sure not to sound condescending.
"I think you made a mistake, you gave me five hundred big ones," he said, holding the wad in his hand.
"No mistake, I planned to give them to you. You'll make much better use of it, than I," I replied, looking this man directly in the eyes. I doubted anyone ever did.
"Thanks Kid!! But you got to let me give you something in return!" he insisted, rummaging through his pockets.
"A smile," I said, not really wanting to take anything away from him. It didn't seem fair to me, that he had so little, and I had so much. He looked at me confused. "One smile, that's all I want."
The man's mouth curved up into a smile, it was hard to see through his long facial hair, but his eyes had a happy glint on them.
"Kid..." he said, joy leaking into his voice.
"Elizabeth," I informed him, smiling myself now.
"Elizabeth, I hope some day I can repay your kindness," he said, clutching the money to his chest like a child holding their greatest treasure.
"Have a nice day, Sir," I said, knowing that the day was almost over, but that wasn't the point.
"Call me Handy," he said, as he stood up, probably planning what he would spend the money on.
I walked away from Handy, feeling the happiness that none of the other Preps will ever know. I gave someone else a chance to live a better life.
What ever he does with that money, whether it's spending it all on booze and getting completely drunk, or spending it on getting a warm place to sleep and clean clothes, I know it will make him happy. That was good enough for me.