For the past year, 18 year old Camille has been getting away with four hours of sleep, a nine hour school day and an eight hour work day overnight. That is until her three teachers and a mystery guy walk into her diner one night.
NOTE: THIS IS A 'W...
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Never in my 18 years of life have I been so tired. I mean seriously, whose idea was it for me to work until 3am then attend school at 8am?
Oh yeah. Haha. Me.
I rest my head on my desk as people file into French. I can feel a migraine coming on from the lack of sleep and I can't help but groan.
"Bonjour, la classe," Mr Laurent says as he walks in. I immediately snap my head up and look at him. God, why does this school have so many hot teachers? I mean, this is distracting.
I watch as he slams books down on his desk, making me wonder how it would feel if I was the books being slammed down on his desk.
God, my hormones are all over the place.
Mr Laurent goes on talking in French and I roll my eyes. I hat French, purely because it's the only subject I'm failing. I just don't get it.
He begins to throw questions round the room and I put my head down, in a mixture of defeat and tiredness.
"Est-ce que ça va, Mademoiselle Owens?" I hear him call out in his husky French accent. I raise my head as my cheeks flush.
"Um...oui" I answer and he chuckles at my response before carrying on teaching. I attempt to pay attention to the rest of his lesson but fail to learn everything as the French language is so. damn. fast.
"Mademoiselle Owens, can you stay behind for a minute please?" Mr Laurent says to me as people start to leave the class. I grab my bag and walk over to his desk.
"Sir, if this is about my last paper, I -" I start to say but he cuts me off.
"No, Camille," he says softly, my name dripping off his tongue like honey, "You look tired and were barely responsive in my class. Is everything okay at home?" He stares at me concerned and I blink back at him in shock.
After a few moments of silence, I finally respond. "I'm fine, sir. Just up late studying." I'm lying through my teeth but I don't want my teachers to know I have to work at night to pay my dad's bills. Would cause all sorts of safeguarding issues I can't be bothered with.
"Ah, I see. Well, make sure to get a better night sleep tonight, Camille," he nods at me and then dismisses me.
I run to gym class and quickly change into my black cycling shorts and white shirt before running out to the cheer squad.
"Camille, you're late," Mellissa glares at me.
"I'm sorry. I was stuck behind in French," I admit as I stand next to Zoe. She nods at me before dividing people up into groups of 3.
As the smallest one in my group, I end up being the flyer and climb on the other two girls shoulders in a pyramid. We continue this stunt until it is seamless but I feel two pairs of burning eyes on me.
I look behind me whilst in the air and see my two brothers glaring at me in their football uniforms. I tell the girls to get me down and I run over to them.
"What are you wearing, Cami," Noah spits out as soon as I reach them. I roll my eyes at them. Sure, they're protective about what I wear but when it comes to getting the money so we have a roof over their heads...
"I can wear what I want, Gnome," I glare back at him. He has always hated that nickname.
"Those shorts barely cover your ass, Camel toe," Oscar defends his brother. God, they're annoying. He knows that nickname always riles me up.
"Why don't you just keep your eyes on your girls who are practicing with me, rather than staring at your sister's ass, you pervs," I say before flipping my ponytail and sauntering back to my group.
I watch as Mellissa and her sidekick run over to my brothers and roll my eyes. Classic high-school cliche and all that.
"I am going to have to dress code you for those shorts, Camille," I hear my coach say to me and I nod at her as I run back and pull my shorts down slightly. It's not my fault my ass isn't a pancake like the rest of the girls here.
God, can this day get any worse?
Zoe and I have our usual lunch on the bleachers, with no moaning at teachers this time. Then, I find myself going to my new AP English class.
As I walk in, I notice only one seat left and, yep, you guessed it. Front and centre. I internally groan and take the seat as Mr Hart types on his laptop.
His brown eyes quickly briefly look up at mine with a flash of confusion before he checks a paper on his desk and then walks over to my desk. Why can't anyone leave me alone today?
"Ah, yes, Miss Owens. You have transferred to my class now," he towers over me and his blonde hair dangles over his face as he looks down at me. "I hope you can keep up," he adds with a challenging note to his voice.
Oh, it's on.
"Right class, pull out your copies of The Scarlet Letter and let's get started..." he drones on as the whole class reaches for the copies.
I knew there was something I needed to do.
"Not a very good start, is it, Miss Owens?" he states and grabs his spare copy for me. I take it from him and glare at him for humiliating me in front of the class.
"We're going to start with a pop quiz. I will come round with the sheets now. Please don't start until everyone has received one. You will until the end of the class to complete it." he addresses the class as he starts handing out the tests.
Great.
Just my luck.
Once he has told us to start he takes a seat at his desk and sends me a challenging look, with his eyebrow raised. I glare at him before chewing my pencil as I read the first question.
Miss Abhrams must have told him about my attitude because I have a feeling he is already going to make my life difficult.
I finish my test half an hour early and stand up from my desk, making a point of stretching my legs. My dress rides up slightly as I stretch and I pull it down before waltzing over to Mr Hart's desk with my test. He looks up at me in shock and grabs his red pen and starts marking it as I stand there.
A smirk spreads across my face as he marks every question right. He notices and glares at me as he hands me the test back.
"If you really want to challenge me, sir, pick another book. The Scarlet Letter is too much of a classic for me to have not read it," I tease him before taking my seat again. He seems to take that into consideration as he nods his head before going back to his laptop.
Shit. I didn't mean for it to be an actual challenge.
