School Of Secrets

Chapter 2

-RING-

"Great, now we're late just because you kept gawking at our friend!" Charlie says, scoffing."You act like you have a crush on her!"

"I wasn't gawking, and I don't have a crush on her. The only female that I would find remotely attractive is Zendaya or Yasmin Finney!" I exasperate

"Yeah, right, I'm going now. Ms. Gretes is going to kill me!" He replies whilst walking off.

Charlie is rather peculiar. One moment, he acts like he wants to marry you then, then next he wants to rip your eye out. He truly is bipolar with his affection to his friends.

"Morgan Ezra." Says an annoying voice,

My name. Who on earth would say my name? My full name?

Ava Seymour.
The one and only bitch of Walsam School of Arts.

Ava Seymour acts like she owns this place. Just because her 'precious daddy' has a bugatti and may or may not be friends with Elon Musk, doesn't mean she should act like a boss in an underpaid public school.

"So look what the trash brought in." Ava says, scoffing

"Darling Ava, we're in England now. Just because you and your stupid head can't understand the difference of continents doesn't mean you should mix up the language of The Queen and the language of the idiots." I say, "So the scum travel in packs because you know you won't be able to defend yourself, you're as short as my grandma."

"What does your grandma have to do with this this?" she asks, turning to look at her group of flees

"My grandmas dead, which is what you'll be in a minute." I reply, slowing, turning around and walking off with a smile.

Everything's silent. Like a mouse or an empty playground on a Christmas morning. I can hear some gasps and some shuffles acting like birds and squirrels in trees.

I'm super late now.

As I peer down the hall, I see Mr. Radja looking out through the window of the class. He looks angry. I check my bruised and beaten up watch.

8:46

I'm six minutes late, all because of Ava Seymour. Why can't she just fall down some stairs and put everyone out of their misery and pain. I take a slow, deep breath, wishing to myself I don't get a detention. He's angry, really angry.

Mr. Radja is normally a lovely teacher who gives out sweets and chocolates and mouldy oranges - but when it comes to tardiness, not so much.

Mary sits there unknowingly, with a glum look on her face. Her face tells nothing but a blank book, but her eyes tell wonders and stories of sadness and despair.

"MORGAN EZRA!" Shouts, Mr. Radja

Shit.