-Jacquelin-
Light green wall paper covers the walls of my somewhat large room. Emptiness fills it, causing it to echo with every sound I make.
I set my suitcases down on the soft, white carpet and sit in the middle of the floor. I lay back on my back, breathing in the new scent I will soon get used to.
Sam walks in, holding his blue and green cup. "Mom says you gots to go to school tomorrow. And it starts at eight." He leaves, shutting the door behind him. I groan, not wanting to have to go a day after we moved here. What kind of mom does that?
I walk to the bathroom across the hall, throwing my light brown waves into a messy bun and throwing on some sweatpants.
"Jacquelin!" my mom calls. I scoff, carrying my feet slowly down the stairs.
"Yeah?"
"Here, take this, we are going to get new beds Friday. You can blow it up in your room, and there are blankets already in your closet."
"Thanks," I mumble, taking the air mattress and dragging it to my room.
*****
I unzip the suitcases I have and throwing all my clothes into a pile on my floor. I jump in the shower and wash my body and hair, shaving my legs and washing my face. When I get out, I straighten my hair, throwing on my pink Hollister sweater and black skinny jeans and my white TOMS.
Without the backpack I am supposed to have, I go out to the lonely bus stop, the wind throwing my straightened tousles around. Kids slowly start to appear around corners. Heavy British accents fly across the air as questions of "'who's that girl' are directed toward me.
"Hello!" a chirpy voice says behind me. I ignore it, thinking it was meant for someone else.
I feel a light tapping on my shoulder. I slowly turn my head to the side, seeing a girl who's my height, with blond hair and dark blue eyes. Her hair is trailed down into rather large curls, framing her face perfectly. "Hi?" I say.
"I'm Aleigha! And you are?"
"Jacquelin."
I take her hand, lightly shaking it. "You are really pretty! But, your accent is different?"
"Uh, yeah, I am from America. Connecticut. And thanks, you are, too. I love your eyes!"
" Thanks! Wanna sit by me on the bus?"
"Sure..."
"Oh, by the way, that's Logan, Liam, Alex, and Jocelyn."
I greet all of them just before the bus comes. Liam looks slightly confused, the wind rushing over his buzzed head. The rest smile, still wondering who exactly I am. At least they are nice.
When I take my seat in the middle of the long bus, Aleigha immediatley takes her seat next to me. "So, what's America like?"
I start explaining the schools, and how beautiful it is, and how much I miss it, and how it's nothing like this place. And she seems rather interested.
As we pick up more students, or whatever you call them here in Bradford, the bus speeds along, gradually making it's way to the school.
Aleigha shows me around before the bell rings. She shows me to the office to get my schedule, and I end up having all the same classes with her, and my locker is next to hers.
I guess it's pretty helpful. We walk to our first class, Social Studies.
"Listen up, class! Take your seats, and we have a new student. Sweetie, would you like to introduce yourself?"
I stand up, swallowing the lump in my throat and glancing around. "I- I uh, my name Jacquelin Cooper. I am from Connecticut, North America, and I'm seventeen. And obviously a senior. Uh- yeah." I quickly sit down, hearing loud whistles from boys across the room.
"Excuse the class, Jacquelin. The boys can be little pervs, sometimes," the teacher jokes. "And I'm Mrs. Willis."
I give her an approving smile and giggle at her comment about the boys. I see a boy with blond hair, blue eyes, and clear braces looking my way. He smiled slyly, and giving me a small wink. My cheeks flush and I turn around.
The class passes by quickly, as the teacher gives out notes and explains the assignment from yesterday. When the class gets out, I find myself shuffling through the hallway barely keeping on my feet as Aleigha drags me to the locker. "Niall likes you," she smirks.
"Who's that?" I tilt my head in confusion, not knowing whether I should be happy or not.
"The Irish one. He transferred here a couple months ago. He's shy, but one of the most brilliant guys in school. Every girl wants him."
"Well, I'm not sure if I want a boyfriend right now, especially not a popular one..."
She laughs. I shut my locker and follow her to Language, but here they call it English. I take a seat in the front of the classroom in the empty, red chair next to Aleigha. As the second period bell rings, there is still no teacher. "He's always late," Aleigha mumbles, rolling her eyes. I let out a little laugh, realizing how annoyed she can get. "Is he nice?" I ask.
"He's gorgeous."
This catches me off guard. "What?"
"Uh, yeah, he's nice!"
I could have swore she just said he was gorgeous.
"Morning, class," a voice says from the doorway. I stay facing forward, staring at my desk. "Morning, Mr. Malik," they say in unison. I keep my head in place, but move my eyes up, noticing I am right in front of his desk. I look back down, biting my bottom lip, too afraid to look at the teacher.
I feel something stir up inside me as his footsteps pass my desk, stopping in mid tracks. "Oh, who's this?" I look up, chewing nervously on my cheek. He smirks at me, blond highlights and black hair bringing out his chocolate brown eyes and perfectly chiseled cheeks. "Hello, love. Are you new?"
Did he just call me love?
I slowly nod my head. His smirk widens as he asks me my name. "J- Jaquelin," I stutter. He laughs at my suffered attempt to say my name.
If I did hear Aleigha correctly, she was right, he is absolutely gorgeous. I let my gaze loosen, looking away and biting my bottom lip. This is wrong. You aren't supposed to like a teacher!
"Mr. Malik, you promised you would tell us how old you were once we got a new student!" an Irish accent shouts. I look back and he smiles. That must be Niall.
"Well, Niall, I didn't actually think we'd get one. Bradford isn't exactly well known. But, if you insist, I am 34."
I scoff, choking on my breath as the number exits his mouth. He looks to me, a look of worry on his face, but soon changes into a smirk. "Actually, I am only 22. I started teaching this year."
A sigh of relief washes through me. What's wrong with me?
The class starts oohing and ahhing, laughing and chuckling, but Mr. Malik's eyes stay locked on me. As hard as I try to break contact, I can't. His brown orbs staring into my sea green ones.
I find it impossible to look away as he licks his lips and studies my face. His eyes form a squint, breaking the moment. He shakes his head, possibly ridding what ever thought he just had, and starts the class.
