There's Always a Plan B

I: She's a Newbie

It is everything I have imagined and more; the wrought, gleaming, black iron gates that tower over the magnificent buildings that glimmer with age and tradition. The fountain stands proudly and perfectly centred within the angle of the gates and behind it an eighteenth century building that looks like it came straight out of a historical romance novel. The manicured lawns surround the acres of land, several other buildings scattered around the campus - but beyond this visual masterpiece?

There is nothing.

A scenic landscape of rolling hills, glittering lakes and mountains, the bright blue sky hurts my eyes, and if I adjust my vision - there are more fields and mountains and lakes and hills.

So basically, I am forever screwed if something were to happen because, here I am; stuck in a boarding school surrounded by absolutely no civilisation for miles. I honestly didn't even see the point in gates, because it is hardly likely that intruders are going to just stumble across this barren landscape of pretty.

It is my first term here at St. Andrews Academy for the Exceptional (circa. 1736) in Switzerland, and God, am I bricking it.

I have to admit, it does look spectacular and the uniformed youth around me don't look a spot out of place as I blink a few times to take it all in. Around me there are an array of ridiculously expensive cars and limousines, the bustling -yet sophisticated- atmosphere that the rich and influential always appear to have. Parents saying rushed goodbyes as they return to their latest Blackberry/Bluetooth handsets, annoying or sorrowful little siblings, giggling groups of friends that had not seen each over the summer, little starters who are in their First Year here, and not to mention the football being kicked around by the uniform-clad, bulky (nonetheless good-looking) adolescent boys. It is exactly like any other school I have been to, the typical clique based student body, except this is a boarding school in the middle of Europe with students from all over the world.

Oh, and the majority of these people have an intelligence quotient higher than 135 and also an astronomical amount of familial wealth that would soon grace their personal bank accounts.

Rich and smart - there's always that little catch; isn't there?

Not to say I am not one of these people - not to brag - but, I don't flaunt the amount of wealth my family have, nor my intellect, because frankly, I like being myself without the copious amount of false friends. The only reason I am transferring here is because I had finally been taken off the waiting list for this god-forsaken school (which I refused to let my parents 'appeal' for) and so I am starting here a few years late. I would soon to be starting my Third Year here, which makes me 15 years old, (16 in four months) and I don't know whether to be terrified or excited - or both.

My own parents had to leave the day before I was driven here because of some business waffle I really don't care about; my sister is living the high life back in London at university - and I am stuck here, on the outskirts of Bern - all on my bloody well own.

There is no reason for me to be scared, I am perfectly clever enough to fit in, my parents have more than enough money to be considered well off - but I am a newbie, and that's always scary. I take a deep breath before taking the step into my own personal hell, and before even stepping down and reaching the ground I have already bumped into something rock solid.

Oh great, I have already humiliated myself by walking into a tree.

It isn't a tree.

It is a person.

A good looking person.

An incredibly good looking person.

Damn you, hormones.