"Ruin the world?"
"I mean yeah, we could do that."
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When Faith - a 21 year old detective - finds herself wrapped up in one of the most life threatening cases in New York, the last thing she expects to do is take in 15 year old Alyona - th...
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✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
THERE ARE THREE girls although one stands out more than the others. She's obviously the leader of this trio. Or pack, or whatever.
"I'm Liza." She introduces herself, giving out a hand. Faith only left a moment ago and I kind of want her back now. I forgot socialising was a thing I had to do on my own.
"Ali." I put a hand out, shaking hers. It's best I use my nickname since it works for my own name and the alias I'm putting on here.
"Cute." She hums, moving some hair behind her shoulder.
It's long and black, wavy at the ends but straight near the top. I like her hair. I seem to like many people's hair I realise. I always notice it first.
"I'm Cleo." A different girl steps forward, one with short brown hair and matching brown eyes. She smiles, makes me feel like I can trust her, and when I nod she hums in approval.
"And I'm Maya." The last of the three steps forward. Her hair is brown like Cleo's but instead a longer length. I can't tell if her eyes are hazel or brown, but they seem to be on that criteria.
"We'll probably just show you around the school first and when the bell goes we can help you to your first class." Liza pipes up, bringing my attention back to her - front and centre.
"Okay." I nod, humming.
"Good, follow me." She turns on her heel as I walk by her side. Cleo and Maya seem to be walking with us, but behind us. They're off in their own world almost immediately as Liza points out small things in the halls.
"So, Ali," Liza says, trying my name on her tongue, "What are you into? What kind of clubs were you in back at your old school?"
"Oh I was homeschooled," I say, "But I like art. I think."
"Homeschooled?" Liza lifts a brow, "Why are you going to school now then?"
"Circumstances." I answer.
Liza looks at me then, not continuing the conversation as we walk down the halls. She eyes me, looks me up and down, and then lands on my eyes again.
"You sound foreign," She says blankly, "Where are you from?"
"Russia." I answer.
"Ah, so you're Russian American. Which side is the Russian one?" Liza asks.
"Neither," I respond, "Both Russian."
"Then..." She trails off, "That's why you sound like you have an accent, are you on exchange?"
"Nope." I answer.
"Hm." She says, facing forward and asking no more questions on my origins.
"What about cheer? You have the body for it. The looks too." She says, shamelessly brushing a hand through my hair to show off my blonde locks.
