"𝐖𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞."
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Alyssa, Alessandro and Alessio Smith have gone through hell.
They've been fighting to survive from the moment they'd first opened their eyes. Six...
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THE CHORUSED GROANS of my classmates echo faintly in my ear as my eyes zero in on the name printed behind mine, my fingernails digging into my palm. I breathe steadily, diverting my gaze to the owner of the name in question. She's hunched over, her long brunette hair draped over the sides of her face like a curtain, obscuring her face from my view.
She has a hand hovering near her mouth, her thumbnail probably locked between her soft lips, like I've caught her doing every so often - when her hands weren't currently occupied with clinging to the two shadows on either side of her.
I've never seen a pair of siblings so attached by the hip. It's like they can't breathe without having each other within reach.
Weirdos.
They popped up here out of nowhere, carrying the Giordanos' last name seemingly with no care or any of the pride that is usually to be associated with members of their family, and have been causing a commotion ever since. Wherever they went, heads always turned their way. It's almost worse than it is with their older brothers.
However, strangely enough, they don't soak it up or enjoy it nearly as much. They shy away from it even, try to avoid it fruitlessly, moving about school so quietly, you wouldn't notice them if people didn't purposefully keep a look out for them, to observe them - the never before mentioned additional family members of one of the- if not the most influential family in the country.
I sigh to myself, finding myself to be rather lacking of the same fascination with them that seems to have gripped everybody else.
Dammit.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to stay far, far away from these guys.
Last Friday was already bad enough.
Grabbing the piece of paper, I forcefully crumple it until it's been reduced to nothing but a small, wrinkly ball that feels far too heavy in the palm of my hand and then thrust it into my open bag. I heave another sigh, running a hand through my hair. I wish I could wipe that stupid smirk off that bitch of a teacher's face.
Finally, after she has returned to her spot next to the whiteboard, she dismisses us, the smirk still tainting her face. The chairs squeal on all sides of me as the students scramble to book it out of here, grumbling in frustration with the smug woman over this pointless assignment she's created simply to torture us.
The only ones left after a few minutes are, like always, the triplets. And for once I'm still there too. I would've already followed the sea of scurrying students and slipped past them by now, if this little project weren't bothering me so much. Or rather, the partner I've been assigned with.
"Ms. Folk."
She whips her head around as if I'd personally insulted her. I roll my eyes at her dramatics and quickly proceed with my question, already spotting the frown tugging at her wrinkly features as she readies herself to reprimand me for whatever misdeed she believes I have committed.
