"That" Girl

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We never get a look inside the mind of a REAL "mean girl". One guy finds a "nice girl" and the "mean girl" tries to interfere with the relationship, thus making the readers hate her. But we never really see why she's that way. We all just view her as power hungry and plain nasty. I'd like to change that. Irina Ross is materialistic, snobby, and likes her men like she likes her coffee. Plentiful. She doesn't really have any reason except for the fact she was raised that way. Both of her parents are still together with an amazing relationship and always make sure to shower her with love. But she wasn't actually raised just to be materialistic, her parents were simply blinded by love while she was growing up, giving her everything she wanted. (A/N: Some sentences will be in Russian. As a learning speaker, I would recommend Reverso to translate.)

Fantasy / Romance
Age Rating:

Chapter 1


"Giovanna! Where's my bracelet?" I yelled. Is it really that hard to find a simple piece of jewelry? "Here it is Madame Ross." My maid handed me a bracelet. "No. I said the Versace, not the Hermes." I glared.

Yeah, I'm a jerk. Oh I'm sorry, did you expect some delightful little Mary Sue? Well I'm not going to say I'm different either, so don't start thinking I'm not like other girls. I don't wear anything you'd see on a stereotypical girl with a whole page of boys names in her contacts, even though I don't have one. I'm the same as everyone else. We're all mean. I just happen to have daddy's money and mommy's face to help me out a little.

In fact, just last week I used my pretty face to get a date to the annual singles ball. I'm sure you can assume it's not with my mate. I'm a little bored right now and if anything, it's my dear other half's fault. I waited up for him until I was 17. 365 days is a long time to be waiting by a window. It's also rather embarrassing to show up to the ball at 17. It was nerve-racking for me to hear my name called, as I was just barely older than a pup.

I doubt my dear soulmate will be there tonight. He never is. That won't much though, seeing as I won't be in a quiet unseen corner with my date. Speaking of my date, here he is now.

"Percival." I greeted as I descended the stair case. "Irina." He smiled back, turning and offering his arm. I bid my parents and baby sister fairwell and took his arm. I prefer to be a lot more loving and caring to my parents, seeing as they brought me into this world, cared for me, and give me everything I need for a good life. I also take care to give my younger sister, Alina, as much as she needs. She's only 3 and therefore has a reserved spot in my heart that will never be changed, taken, or forgotten. They may push my buttons sometimes, but they're my family and I love them.

The drive to the ball was short a short 30 minutes and I looked at my phone the whole time. Social situations tend to be quite irksome for me and Percival never interrupts me. My parents must have told him. I put on a smile to step out of the car to my family look good.

We walked into the mansion that was hosting the event this year and as we passed the people, I tried to be as delicate and ladylike as possible. As I said, I love my family and if little Alina ends up in the same situation I am simply setting the table for her. I can't possibly afford to give her a bad name.

"All shewolves to the crimson carpet please, all shewolves to the crimson carpet." A man said. I walked to the designated area and made nice with just about every shewolf around me. You never know who could be your next Luna. And for that exact reason, I refuse to "scope out" the men. Do I have my escapades? Yes. But behind closed doors. I've never tarnished my name for a simple boy and I never will.

"Your name and title miss?" The man in charge announcing titles asked. "Kvetaslava Anezka Irina Rosskovich of Hvalácek Estates." I replied. Yes, I told you Irina Ross. That is simply what I shortened it to after I my family came to America. Kvetaslava is too hard to pronounce, Anezka gets a lot of Russian jokes, and Rosskovich is a mouthful.

"Um, excuse me?" A small voice asked. I turned to see a small girl, anxiety rolling off of her like a tsunami as I gazed down at her. "Your tag is showing." She said. "Ah. Thank you." I replied and to which she nodded. I see a Luna in this girl. All the rest are power hungry, but this girl... I can see power in her eyes. "Irina, Czech Republic," I softened my gaze, "and you are?". "Humara, Romania." She smiled up at me. It's as if I'm the first person to treat her normally here. "Miss Rosskovich, you're up." A woman said. "Good luck, may you find your mate." I nodded to Humara. I may be insufferable, but I will do what it takes to ensure mine and my pack's safety. I hate sharing. And although I would never actually do it, if somebody were to pick on my pack, I would rather it be me. A seer from back home told me I'd be a Luna and I've held on to that slither of hope ever since.

"Miss Kvetaslava Anezka Irina Rosskovich of the Hvalácek Estates." The man from earlier announced as I descended the staircase. Блять, that's a lot of people. I don't know why all of these nerves are hitting me.

"Miss Elini Ioana Humara Adrian Mihai de Florin of Florin House." He announced. My fellow Luna has quite the name as well. I will admit, the small girl has grown on me. I quite like her. I look forward to doing possible business with her pack. She followed me to the refreshment table and asked if she could just stick around me. "Of course Eleni, if I may call you that?" I smirked mischievously. "On two conditions. You shorten it to Elle, and I get to call you Kveta." She smirked back.

A rather dashing young man came storming over and since it was only us at the table, I whispered "On your six." And pointed the end of my wine glass to him. They had their regular "mate" thing but surprised me when Elle said "I want to say a proper goodbye to Kveta." After her mate tried to take her away. She didn't say in her small voice either, she said it with complete confidence. With those vibrant Luna colors I see in her.

"Goodbye Kveta. Good luck, may you find your mate." She said with a smile and handed me a small piece of paper. "Goodbye Elle. May you be the best luna you can be." I did the same, also handing her a piece of paper in case she ever needed to call. It's strange. I almost see her the same way I see Alina. More pure than an angel and when look into her eyes you want to give her the world but not just because of the power that shows, because she's like a little angel girl when you give her a doll and tell her it's sick and broken. She will mend and pretend medicate and tuck that doll in to a cotton ball filled tissue box with cloth glasses wipes until it's all better.

I just can't bring myself to act the way I usually do around her. Oh well, I didn't get to meet my mate tonight. But I did meet someone just as valuable.

I exited the mansion and called my personal driver to come pick me up. Don't worry about dear Percy. He'll end up going to the home of whichever shewolf he chose to be with for the night. "Куда ты хочешь пойти девушки?" Pyotr asked. Девушки has always been his affectionate pet name for me. "Бросайте меня в бар." I said. He nodded and started to drive once I was buckled. Pyotr is a highly trained, decorated veteran who served in the Czech special forces. He lives on the estate grounds as my bodyguard, driver, trainer, and half brother.

What? He's never treated me as his sister anyway. Neither has Giovanna, Anastasia, Milos, or Aleksej. Oh, don't give me that look. Папа had a lot of time on his hands before he met Мама.

Pyotr looked in the mirror and locked the door when I tried to get out. "Дорогая моя сестра, я тебя люблю. Я желаю вам счастья." He said. Wow. Maybe tonight's an exception. "Спасибо Петру. Я тоже тебя люблю." I smiled like a little girl. He probably knew it didn't go well based off of the time I called him. "Хотите, мы зайдём ко мне?" I asked. He's always so... Stiff. I'd like to see Pyotr be Pyotr for once.

"Да, спасибо." He replied with a nod. I forgot to mention that his English is very limited and that we only really communicate in Russian. He parked the car and handed me some clothes, standing guard outside while I changed.

When I finished changing I got out of the car and went to walk by my new big brother figure. As soon as he opened the door for me I was slapped in the face with my mate's scent mixing with another woman's scent. I let out a humorless sound, somewhere in between a chuckle and scoff, worrying Pyotr. "Он с другой женщиной." I glared with hatred, Russian rolling off my tongue like a smooth tsunami.

I guess I can't be a hypocrite. I walked up to the bar and asked for a beer mug filled with vodka. "И она с ним." My brother glared with me. I asked for the same thing on behalf of him. I made a "cheers" motion and he did the same. "Tonight, we found happiness." I said. "Tonight, we found pain." He finished for me. This is an exception to his limited English. This is an exception to my jerkyness. "Давай напьемся." We toasted. He's a pretty good brother I guess.

I decided to look over to my mate and who was supposed to be my sister in law. Happy. Laughing. I felt even more anger build up inside. "Что вы говорите, сестра?" He mindlinked me while sipping his drink, not making eye contact. Babe. He called her babe. "Он называе ее имена. Искать их машину?" I mindlinked back. Ugh, what? We were raised in the C.R. We did things different back home. "Да." He said back. We walked outside and tracked their scents to the strongest place.

He used his military training to get into the car and hotwire it so that we could drive to a nearby parking lot. It's a shame too, my dear mate had a nice car. I almost feel bad for what I'm about to do. Oh well. My goodness, will you stop it with that look? Things like this happened to my family all the time.

He handed me a pocket knife along with a sly smirk. "You do the honors." He said with his thick accent. I carved a tiara next to a flower into the red paint job on the front passenger door and passed the knife to him, where he carved a crown right next to my art. These were our symbols. Let's just say, this may have been the first time we've done this together, but not the first time we've done this is in our lives. Don't vandalize, children. Unless you have valid reason.

We carved the names Цветок and Король into the drivers side, Pyotr's pen name above mine, as the elder sibling. Mine was the Russian word for flower, since my childhood nickname is derived from the same word in Czech. It was meant to throw authorities off of my trail.

Don't mind us. Just doing a wholesome family activity.

Fun fact: Irina's family is one of the few Czech families who speak Russian rather than their national language.

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