Chapter or Story
You could say that my life isn’t exactly normal. Lana is my name. Lana Harland. My dad, Isaac Harland, owns Harland Enterprises Inc., better known as HEI. Don’t ask me what the company’s all about because in all honesty, I don’t know. Nor do I give a damn. The main factor of explaining this to you is that we're rich. Really rich. I was born wealthy, have had everything handed to me, and I'll probably die that way. You know those people who are referred to as spoiled brats? That probably applies to me, as much as it pains me to admit it.
HEI is apparently one of the biggest and most successful companies in Southern California in the last 10 years. It continues to expand, touching four of the world’s continents. My family is famous in the private business world for our success and our generosity. I can say with a lot of pride that the Harland family donates millions of our millions to charity annually.
There is a downside to this life though. Yes, I did say downside. Since I was a kid, I've been taught how to act, how to answer questions, even how to eat properly. Rich people, plain and simple, are crazy. You have no idea just how crazy. Gossip and rumors are 10 times worse in the "high society" class of living. You make the slightest mistake and your whole family name is screwed.
My mom, she's something else. She and my dad met when he was on vacation in Hawaii. He was mesmerized by her beauty, and hell, as old as my mom is, she's still beautiful. She was just some girl from the big island until my dad swept her off her feet, married her, and brought her home to California. My sister Sara was born less than a year later. She's just like my mom. They're both superficial and married to handsome and rich men. I'm supposed to be just like them. I think the word would be pristine. They sit on their asses all day long in their chandelier filled homes ordering the help around. They don't drive because they have chauffeurs. They don't have coffee—they drink herbal tea. The price tags that come on their clothes are always for hefty dollar amounts.
Everyone in the Harland family is supposed to be like that but I beg to differ. I, along with my brother, Jeremy. I'm probably closest to him out of anyone in my family. He’s three years older than me, proving that all that stuff about how younger sisters and older brothers can't get along is complete bullshit. We understand each other; we know when to give each other our space and when to be there for each other.
As I was saying, Jeremy and I don't act like Mom or Sara. At least we try not to. We never ask the maids for anything unless absolutely necessary. Like, I don't ask anyone to open or draw my curtains; it's not that hard. I can just get up and do it myself. I get scolded for that a lot. Imagine that, getting in trouble for doing something yourself. "Lana, you don't have to do any of that," my mother would say. "We're paying these people good money to wait on us. Let them serve you!"
I ignore her most of the time though and by the time I was sixteen I was as unlike her as possible. I loathe tea (Jeremy had made me a coffeeholic) and stopping at It’s A Grind in the morning before getting to school is a must. I don't like clothes with price tags that have two zeros trailing before the decimal point. I want to be like everyone else. I shop in Beverly Hills most of the time—I mean, it’s unavoidable—but I do my best to go to the mall and shop at normal stores. I don’t wear those clothes around my mom because she wouldn’t approve but I still wear them when she doesn’t know, which is most of the time.
The rules have always been pretty simple. Get good grades in high school and then get married to some hotshot rich guy while still young (college was completely optional). I could even cheat on him as long as I didn't get caught. I’d made my mind up that that was the stupidest thing ever. Why marry someone if they're not your one and only? And as for the meantime, I could party as hard as I wanted as long as it was with the right crowd and didn't get arrested. The sky is the limit as long as I don’t ruin the family name. It is the worst kind of oxymoron. Everything I do, every decision I make, I have to consider, what will this do to my family? This life sucks ass.