Patrick Bateman, My Teacher

Week 1, Day 1: Monday

New York, Manhattan. That was my new home starting today. I had just arrived at my new boarding school (Dorsia College) and I had absolutely no idea where to go. This college was unique, to say the least. Think of it as a second chance for students who didn't quite meet the grade requirements for university. By studying at this boarding college for one year and graduating, we would be given UCAS points as we liked to call them back in the UK. This was my last chance to get a music degree and I wasn't going to let anything distract me.

The colleges' population was quite low. I'd say that there were approximately one hundred students.

I hesitantly walked up to an old, angry-looking teacher who's blonde hair was beginning to turn grey.

"Um, excuse me?" I asked politely.

He raised an eyebrow at my accent.

"Yes, what is it?" He asked, his voice even moodier than his face.

"I'm new here", I stated the obvious and cursed in my head at my foolishness.

"Everyone is", he said, as if mocking me, "You don't know where to go, I take it?"

"Yes, that's correct", I bit my lip nervously because he was raising his voice.

He snatched my dormitory key that I was fiddling with in my hand and glanced at it.

"168B. Go down that hall", he gestured towards a hallway, "Take a left, a right and go forward until you find the number".

"Thank you", I quickly thanked him and began walking quickly towards the hall but I stopped when I heard him clearing his throat behind me to get my attention.

I spun around with curiosity. I had to think fast when he tossed me my keys back but luckily I caught them.

"Mr Smith, for your information", he muttered, "Deputy head".

I nodded and continued my route to my dorm.

I'm Chelsea Lakes, by the way and I'm eighteen years old. My mum is a violin tutor and my dad is a librarian. I was always mostly known in my old school for having abnormally long hair which reached my thighs, and I have mossy green eyes. But, overall, I am quite a strange person. I can be quite a control freak and overly clean, not to mention I am also obsessed with my health.

I triumphantly smiled when I found the right door. 168B. I loved the number already. I swung open the door, all set to unpack but I stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on a girl (roughly the same age as me) getting dressed. She was only in her shorts and bra.

"Oh, my goodness. I'm so sorry", I cringed, covering my eyes.

"Oh, hey!" She squealed happily, walking over to me whilst her top view was still only in underwear, "I'm Alison! Sorry, hold on".

Alison had blonde, curly hair at a medium length and blue eyes. She had a perfect posture.

She quickly scuttled over to a pink shirt and threw it on. Then, unexpectedly, she squeezed me into a tight hug.

"What's your name, honey?" Alison asked sweetly.

"Chelsea Lakes", I coughed out, my lungs hurting from the tightness of her hug.

"I love your accent", she complimented, "I think you're the only British person here. Hey, let's see your timetable because I lost mine".

I got out my college timetable out of my bag and handed it to her.

"I haven't even looked at it myself yet", I laughed.

Alison grabbed my hand and yanked me to sit down next to her on a chair. She placed the timetable down on a desk and we both stared at it.