The Soccer Queen

➳ First day

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I stared at the door, focusing on the carved in writing, room 204. My homeroom class.

I didn't really know why I was nervous, I mean I rarely get nervous. However, my heart couldn't help but beat fast. My thought's were jumbled everywhere in my head.

It's just class, I told myself. School wasn't something I should be nervous about.

I sucked in my breath and entered the room.

At first glance, I could already tell what everyone's social status was. I was a perspective person and I could read people easily. The class seemed to be consisted of about 25 students. In the front, there were the people whom looked smart. Some were nerdy looking, while others looked pretty average. In the middle were the normal people, and a few groups groups of above average girls. At the back however were the guys; the jocks I presumed. The sports jackets were pretty much a dead giveaway.

Everyone seemed to eye me like a lab rat. Observing and guessing what type of person I was. Slowly everyone's expressions seemed to change.

From my posture, vibe, and clothing choice; it was pretty obvious what my status was. First off my clothes were sport based but they were brand names. My makeup was perfectly done - courtesy to my makeup classes every Saturday after Pilates. My hair was pretty voluminous since I took care of it like a newborn baby. My hair was absolutely precious. And my nails were perfectly done.

All their expressions were mixed with awe, fear, and curiosity. Just like how it was in my old school. At my old school I was somewhere along the lines of Regina George, except less bitchy and way smarter. I mean please, any queen knows that carbs make you gain weight. I simply wondered how she didn't know that.

Typical school students, I thought. I also wondered if there was anyone who was good enough to be my friend. Actually who needs friends? After the Heather Brow accident, I didn't know whether making friends was such a good idea.

People are like cactus's, they look nice but they fucking stab you.

Worst metaphor ever but whatever.

The teacher looked at me with a forced, bright smile. "Welcome! You must be the new student, introduce yourself."

I didn't want to introduce myself.

"No thank you," I told her. The teachers expression slowly morphed into shock as she took in what I said. However, she kept back from saying any rude remarks. Probably because she knew how rich my dad was.

I've grown up with teachers fearing my family.

Both me and Travis always got away with everything. Once, Travis was drinking alcohol in class but the teacher didn't even say anything. Possibly because he was drinking some limited addition cosmos beer. Or the time I called my science teacher a bitch, I never got in trouble for that.

Basically we do shit and we get away with it.

"Oh well, class uhm this is Bella Salvatore," she said nervously. This made me chuckle, what a pathetic teacher. Honestly did she not have any pride? It wasn't like my dad was going to get her fired from giving me detention or some shit.

Honestly I wasn't that heartless.

Sometimes, I wished that I had a teacher who wouldn't judge me for my social status. Being treated normal. But I mean the rich life was okay though - if I were treated normally I would probably have been expelled from my school.

"Sit down near Bradley. B-Bradley raise your hand," she stammered. A good looking boy near the back raised his hand. I walked over to him, ignoring his smirk and sat down.