Cherishing Cherry

Chapter 1

Cherry

I payed the cab driver, picked up my backpack and stepped out onto the bustling street of New York City. It was a lot louder then England, even by London's stanards, that's for sure. I never knew so many taxi cabs and rude strangers could exist in one city at the same time! I looked up at the building in front of me, it was a huge white and brown building that did not inspire much inspiration or creativity in the slightest. Windows covered most of the walls, giving even the most dreary of colours a slightly modern look. There was a tall black gate that opened up into the school. From what I could see, a grey pathway led up to the large glass doors. Grass covered all the area not covered by the pathway. The grass was covered in stereotypical jocks throwing around  American footballs, groups of girls gossiping on the floor, and seemingly semi-drunken teenagers making out under the shade of some of the trees. Jeez, are public displays of affection like that allowed in America?

I shuffled away from the cab (almost tripping over the gum-covered concrete) and looked down at what I was wearing. Black skinny jeans, a woolen jumper with two cherries with Kawaii faces on it, black leather boots and a stylish black coat. My long, straight, wine red hair was loose around my shoulders with a white headband with two cherries on it holding it back from going all in my face. You could just look at me and assume my name was Cherry, considering the amount of cherry-related apparel and dark red hair I was sporting. My black canvas Jack Wills backpack was slung loosely over one shoulder (I was too lazy to swing it over the other arm). I fished my iPhone out of my coat pocket and saw that Mum had sent me a message, wishing me luck on my first day. I smiled, locked the phone and stepped through the gates of Secondary School/High School (or more commonly know as "Hell").

I went to the front desk and the receptionist handed over two copies of my time table, form room number (or 'homeroom' as they call it here, weird, I know, I mean it's not your home, anyway) and my locker number and combination.

"Thank you," I said politely, taking the papers from her. She smiled back and gave me a small nod, then sighed and returned to furiously typing away at her ten-thousand year old computer.

I walked down the white floor of the light and airy hallway, until I arrived at a larger, slightly more occupied room of lockers, all lined up by the walls. I looked hard at the numbers on the scratched metal doors until I came to mine, number 111. I looked at the combination number, entered it onto the dial thing-y and swung open my locker. I slung my bag into the locker, fished some blu-tack out of the packet in my front pocket and stuck a copy of my time table onto the door and put all the notebooks that I didn't need onto the middle shelf of my locker. I had labled my notebooks so I would know which was which. I took off my coat, folded it neatly and slipped it into my bag, slung it onto my shoulder again. I closed my locker door turned to my left and was taken aback Standing about three inches form my face was this sterotypical "American Popular Girl". She had clearly dyed blonde hair and she wore very tight white skinny jeans, practically sprayed on, a tight purple tank top, sandal high heels despite the cold September weather, although her tons of fake tan and make-up might help kept her warm, I wonder. 

"Hey there!" She practically screamed in my face. I gave her a smile and a small wave then tried to scurry away, but she slid infront of me and continued. "Hey! My name's Taylor Jacobs, you're Cherry Jordan right?" How does she know my name!?

"Um yeah," I said with a tiny smile, attempting to get away again.

"I know everybody who comes into this school, I am head of Student Council!"

I glared at her telling her bugger off with my eyes. Sadly, she didn't take the hint. "You're from England right? That's so- exotic! So, I thought, maybe you'd like to sit with my friends at lunch?" She motioned behind her to where a pool of girls dressed very similarly to her, all applying more slap to their faces. I mean, I was fine with just my basics; lipstick, mascara and winged eyeliner. They were like a cliché mob of lipstick wearing zombies. She raised her eyebrows in question. I sighed. Her friends looked over at me and sneered like I was chewing gum that they ha just scraped off the sole of their Jimmy Choo sandals. That made me quite, not angry, just upset that they didn't

"Look, Taylor," I said, calmly, "I wouldn't join your 'clique' of friends if you were the last people on Earth." She gasped and I felt kinda bad. "I'm sorry, but I don't think they like me. I like you though, maybe you want to hang out sometime?" Taylor smiled widely, handed me a bright pink glittery card and skipped off back to her mates. I looked at the card. It had her name, phone number and social media names on it. I smiled at it and laughed a little, a card?. She seems nice enough, maybe a little too perky though. I mean, who's that happy on the first day of school? The bell rang right after that. I tucked the card into one of the back pockets of my jeans and went to track down my form room.

I hunted down my form room and saw that my form tutor was an art teacher. Great, I wanted to improve my art skills and this would be an opertunity to ask him or her questions! I edged in and the teacher saw me almost immediately. She smiled and motioned me in, walking towards me with a skip in her step. She looked really friendly. She was quite tall, wore paint splattered dark blue denim jeans, tatty black converse and a black Bastille t-shirt. Well, that's another thing we have in common, Bastille is one of my favourite bands. 

"Hello, hello! My name's Miss Ralph, what's yours?" She asked, skimming a clipboard she was holding.

"Uh, Cherry, Cherry Jordan." I answered, a little confused at her enthusiasm. She ushered me to a seat and I sat down, still bemused as to what just happened. Soon other stuents decided to join us. Boys and girls of various sub-cultures and, apparently, species walked in an took their seats. All of them avoided me like the Bubonic Plague, leaving a seat empty on both sides of me. I didn't mind. The class soon became noisy, the chattering and laughter of students who had friends. After about three minutes of kids filling up the seats, that last kid stumbled through the door. He was tall, sort of awkward looking, and was sporting light brown hair. His light brown hair was pretty long and shaggy, and he did something close to a Bieber-flick with his fringe. His eyes were beautiful light blue, his was tan, like he spent a lot of time in the sun. He wore baggy navy blue jeans, a Red Sox baseball shirt, and dark blue trainers. To top it all of, he had a holographic galaxy backpack swung over one shoulder. He looked around the room, eyes scanning for an empty chair in this completely full classroom. Somehow, his eyes rested on me. My heart leaped. What happened there I had no idea. All I knew was that I had talk to this guy. I had to.

Authors note:
Hello Internet! Sophie here, and I'm the one who wrote this chapter. I won't go on, but I hope you enjoy this story and stuff.  (^-^)

Hey guys! Lina here XD I'm the one who edited and added a bunch of description, dialogue and stuff to this chapter XP I'll be writing the next chapter too (because that boy is American and 'Murica, ami rite?) so yeah XD Hope ya like it! :3