What is love?

Chapter 1

CRASH

The car rattled for the umpteenth time. I get it, the junk's second hand and rusty. But does it have to make so much noise and disturb my readings every half a minute? And why's the terrain so rocky? I can see dad giving me an apologetic glint from the corner of his eyes. I smiled understandingly at him. He's trying his best. I should be patient. Besides, we're approaching the school now.

The clouds and shrubs in the sky parted and revealed a massive building. A building with one massive turret in the center surrounded by several smaller turrets and rectangular buildings. The rectangular buildings are our dorms and library. As we're coming closer to the school, I can see a small paddock, the old horse shed and the stable boy on guard. I can also spot some ponies grazing on the pasture. Some are brown, some are milky white and some are inky black in color. 

"We're here!" dad informed the family as he parked the car into a halt in the parking lot. "Need some help with those suitcases dear?"

"I'm fine, dad. The porter can help me." I reassured him as I step outside to gather my stuff from the trunk.

"No dearie. The porter could be busy for all we know. If we can do it, then why don't we do it." mom smiled as she heaved my trunk out of the car.

"Well then if that's the case, I'll carry it myself. I'm fine you two. I've been doing this for three years. I'll manage." I reassure them once more.

"Are you sure? That trunk looks kinda heavy." mom gulped at my work load.

"It's fine. It'll be a nice morning exercise anyway. Besides didn't you say you're visiting grandma today? You don't want to be late for her, do you?" I smirked, trying my best to distract them.

"Alright, alright we'll go. Just after one kiss." mom hastily pecked me on the forehead.

"Mom!" I pushed her away and wiped my wet forehead.

"It's just a kiss." mom sniggered.

"It's one kiss to you but a ton of embarrassment for me." I gave out an apologetic sigh and give her a quick hug. "Now we're even. Goodbye mom, goodbye dad. I'll miss you guys." 

"We'll miss you more sweetums." dad wiped a tear off his eyes. "Take care of yourself will you?"

"Don't worry I will." 

I bade them goodbye and saw the car slowly disappearing from sight. It will be a long time since I'll see them both again. But it's fine. I've grown independent these last few years. I remember what a clingy git I was back then. But now I've changed. I'm not some weak kid who needs goodbye kisses from their parents nor cry about them all night. I'm an independent teen who can survive on her own. I'm grown and I'll prove it.

I heave my trunk towards the girl dormitory. All the girl lives in one massive rectangular room in a neat four poster bed. I opened the familiar wooden door and set my trunk beside my bed. It's been the same bed for three years. I miss the soft linens and curtains. I don't have these back in the cottage. After setting the sheets and blankets, I grabbed my book and left for the library.

In my school there's some kind of weird habit. It's like the school's divided into two. The extroverts and the introverts. The extroverts are those people with monthly plans - filled with party schedules, prefect interviews, proms, dances,  birthday parties and whatever - plastered up their personal bulletin board and the talkative one who's so excited about socializing they forgotten about that biology work. They usually occupy the paddock and garden to chat. Thus, to avoid them, the introverts seek refuge in the library. It's like a habit. After school's done you don't have any place to go to but the library. Anywhere else and you'll have to face socializing which is something I will never get an A in. Nor an A+. That's rich. Scarlette Scarface, the most feared in the school gets an A+ in socializing. And yes, I'm feared at school because of my stupid scar. A scar that I got from a wildcat in the forest one time. The reason I abandoned socializing and adopted the ways of the introverts.

I pushed open the brass doors leading to the library, the only place I belong. The only place where no one will point up my eye and said 'scarface' with a dumb look on their face. I take a long, deep sigh as I sat down on one of the chairs. The library's unusually full today. And that's just the magic of the library. No matter how full it is, it's always quiet. I mean it's jam packed with introverts of all grade. They all have the same wants and don't wants. And one of those don't wants are talking. So it's natural that the library's this quiet.

"Psst, excuse me." 

Well that's unnatural. Someone just spoke. I know it's a mere hiss but no one hiss here. They use the inner voice. No one let out even a breathe of whisper. I can tell immediately the speaker's an extroverted bookworm. And he must've been the first in this school. Cause I've never saw one yet. Nor hear about one.

"What?" I hiss back dropping my book to look at the speaker directly. He's a boy around my age with a ruffled sand colored hair and freckled face. He wears a navy blue hoodie and track pants and holding some thick book in his hands. 

"Mind if I sit here? The library's unusually full." He pointed to an empty chair in front of me.

"Sure." I muttered as I look away from his beautiful blue orbs and resume my reading.

"Thanks." He pulled the chair back with a slight creak and sat down. "The Murder on Cherry Lane. You like these stuffs?"

"Huh?" I put the book down again. Why is he freaking interested in what I'm reading?

"You know, dark and brooding stuff. The creepy, horror ones." He shuddered.

Huh, I just get myself to share a table with a weak extrovert. "It's just a bit of horror. It's not even that bad." I scoffed.

"I guess we both have different tastes." He leaned back on his chair and opened his book. This time I read his book title.

"The Maple Tree. Biology?" 

"Nah, romance." He smirked from behind the pages.

"Eugh, yuck." I scrunched up my face to do a throw up impression. "I can't believe you like the soft, sappy stuff."

"It's good." He added, giggling.

"Exactly. It's too good. It differs too much from reality. In real life we don't just meet our true love on first sight. It takes a lot of meeting for that too happen. But romance stories cover up those effort and make it all look easy." 

"Not all romance stories does that. Read this. This book's different. Trust me. I've read it a million times before." He handed me the thick book. I hesitated before I take it.

"Thanks. Interested to do a bit of horror?" I offered him my book.

"No thanks, I don't think I can sleep tonight." He pushed the book back.

"Coward. By the way, I'm Scarlette. What's your name?"

"It's March, March Cromwell.