good girl; h.s. a.u.

one //

 I am confident.

I am fierce.

I will not be broken.

        I chanted this mantra to myself as I clutched my books closer to my chest, my breathing coming out in short gasps rather than even and relaxed. It is my first day back at St. Vincent's Preparatory and the anxiety alone was enough for my head to pound. Slowing grasping the cold door knob with my hand, I inhale before giving it a slight push, only for relief to wash over me.

"I'm early," I murmur, taking a few cautious steps in, the only sounds being the door swinging closed and my oxfords squeaking against the freshly waxed floors. Glancing around the vacant room, I take in the rows of desks, all in rows of five facing the slightly bigger than average mahogany desk that was placed directly in front of the class. Striding towards the back, I place my books down in the last row, last seat on the left directly adjacent to the rows of windows. If I was going to face the judgmental faces of my fellow classmates, I'd take my chances with them getting a scolding for turning around rather than feeling their burning gazes pointed towards the back of my ponytail.

Just as I sit, my eyes dart to the front of the room, landing on the brooding figure strutting in. "Good morning," he rasps, his eyes not leaving his phone in one hand as his other brushes his mop of curls back. "Who are you," he questions, his accent strong and almost hard to understand as he finally looks directly at me after moments of silence.

"Uh, Nora. Nora Collins," I choke out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Slamming my mouth shut, I cant help but allow my eyes to widen a minuscule amount; what happened to Mrs. Wilson? This guy didn't look more than five years older than me. Watching as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on the back of his chair, I swallow hard as his muscles flex in his snug fitting dress shirt. "Ah, Ms. Collins! I'm assuming this is your first day back from your-" Before he can finish his sentence, the bell is screaming and students are filing in, their conversations filling the once serene room with millions of thoughts and even some students yelling to prove their point even further.

"Class!" The man booms, the twenty students or so immediately falling silent as the scurry to their seats. "Good morning Mister Styles," they all monotonously answer. "That's better." He huffs, adjusting his black tie, loosening it before placing his hands in his pockets. "Now, it is officially the third quarter, or better yet known as the beginning of the second semester. What does this mean? George?" Hearing a few chuckles, I glance around trying to find 'George' and then realizing why everyone was snickering; he was the kid seated in the front of the class, his hand reaching up with such determination you'd think his arm was going to fall out of it's socket. "Unit test review?" Clasping his large hands together, Mr. Styles smirks, earning a roar of disapproval.

"Joey, can you hand out the tests please, oh and Ms. Collins, you'll be excused for today, but please see me after class." Sending him a small nod, I rest my head on my fist, my eyes already feeling heavier. This is my last year at this establishment and this is the only class I worried about due to my past struggles with all of my English classes.

--

"Ms. Collins," a voice soothes, followed by the sensation of my back being rubbed. Letting out a small moan, I flutter my eyes open, only for me to watch in horror as my other classmates laugh at me. Coughing awkwardly, I glance up at Mr. Styles who towered over my desk, a look I couldn't quite place drawn over his face. Turning around to the rest of the class, he shoots them all a look which silences them immediately. "I'd prefer it if you didn't snore during a test, especially when I've been so kind as to excuse you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I'm sorry, what?" Raising an eyebrow at him, I glance behind his tall frame, all eyes still on me.