Disclaimer: This work is a very rough mess and not every update will be in order because unfortunately, my brain doesn't work like that, sorry in advance if you find this before you're meant to.
[Themes of violence, drug & alcohol abuse, & mental...
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Perth International Academy looms above my friends and I as we huddle around each other near the front gates to the colonial-built private school.
I'd heard somewhere that it was originally built as a boys' school back in the Victorian Era or some jazz like that, but if I were completely honest, as pretty as the building is, the only thing I wanted from it, is my high school diploma.
High school is quite literally a stepping stone to where I want to be in life.
A degree in medicine, a good career, a marriage to my current boyfriend, Bastian, a couple of gold medals in figure skating, probably move back to Italy, or maybe even Germany, and if Bastian has his way, two or three little kids to run circles around us.
I flick the end of the cigarette between my fingers and bring it up to my lips, taking a long drag from it and hold the smoke in my mouth before inhaling and then exhaling.
Clary, one of my best friends, coughs and waves the smoke from in front of her face causing my other best friend, Mew and I to laugh at her as Mew brings his own cigarette to his lips. "God, I wish you two wouldn't smoke," Clary groans.
"Keeps the weight off for skating," Mew shrugs and I hum in agreeance.
I was 12 when my family moved from Scandicci, Florence to Perth, Western Australia and the only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that Mama had already found me a figure skating coach, who himself had won bronze internationally and gold nationally.
The rink was where I met Mew. He was mid training session when Mama took to me to meet my new coach and I watched as Mikhael and Mew worked together. I later found out that Mikhael's parents-in-law own the rink.
While Mama and Mikhael went into the office, Mew and I got to skate around and it was over messing around (and competing) with each other that we bonded.
Clary and I on the other hand, we'd met at school and quickly became best friends, bonding over strict parents and a morbid sense of humour that those around us ofter turned their noses up at.
Clary is what I like to call a lazy perfectionist. She has the capability to do absurdly well in school, but studying isn't her jam, so she happily passes by on the bare minimum.
"I mean," I offer as if it's actually going to be of any consolation to Clary, "I'm cutting down on them. Bastian hates the smell of them."
"Ah yes," Clary grumbles with an eye roll. "Because me asking you wasn't enough."
I laugh and offer her a small shrug, "Truth hurts."
"But its still the truth," Clary rolls her eyes with a grin and smacks my wrist so that I drop my smoke.
I stare down at the ground momentarily, jaw hanging and look up at Clary with a glare. "Girl, that was a perfectly good smoke that I still could have finished."
