Lust is real. Love is corny. God, did you know you make me so horny? [COMPLETED]

First impressions? BS.

"Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change

Once a whore you're nothing more, I'm sorry, that'll never change

And about forgiveness, we're both supposed to have exchanged.

Sorry honey, but I passed it up, now look this way

Well, there's a million other girls who do it just like you

Looking as innocent as possible to get to who they want and what they like

It's easy if you do it right

Well, I refuse, I refuse, I refuse -- "

Lyrics from Paramore's Misery Business blasted from my alarm clock. Don't ask me why I like this song. It just reminds me that life has is like a road. Plently of bumps, views, side-tracks and roads. 

Wednesday.

That was today.

February, 2. 

A new semester was about to begin at Johnson Heights.

Yes. Johnson Heights. How original. Like, come on. If you were going to be the founder or a damn school atleast give it a cool name. 

My parents, Maria and David, planned this whole moving for the new semester thing out. My dad's a lawyer, working on a new case of this 16 year old put away for murder that my father believes he did not commit. I don't blame him. Change is always nice.

My mom's a doctor. Doctor Kenneth, they call her. My mom prefers her maiden name as a doctor, just because she feels that family life is private.

Once again, Don't blame er'.

So yes. We are, 'wealthy'.  

** ** ** ** **

"Mystery Brookelle James." My mother's voice roared, shaking my bedroom's chandelier, "I am starting up my vehicle in 25 minutes. I expect you clean, pretty, and done breakfast." 

I murmured an okay, and carefully made my way into my uncomfortably large new bathroom, trying to be completely aware not to bail from being half asleep still. 

'Silly mother, always wanting me to look good. Stupid reputation.' I grumbled to myself.

'We're rich. We live the high class. Look nice. Look classy. That's what it's all about. Elegance. How you present yourself.' I said, cockily imitating my mother while brushing my straight, white teeth.  

I eagerly looked at my clock. 

Somehow, I had managed to wash my face, put just a tad bit of powder of my medium tan skin for smoothness, put on mascara and a smidgen of eye liner for an effect, brush tangled knots out of my naturally straight hair, change into my "Knows How To Party" sweater, with ripped hollister jeans, my beige moccasins, and my diamond pendant necklace that my ex lover gave to me when I left. 

I know what you may be thinking. Sweater? Moccasins? 

Yes. It's February and slightly chilly outside. 

I had 7 minutes left to spare, as I oh-so-stealthly ninja flew my way to our kitchen, begging our cook Francis to make toss me a banana chocolate chip muffin. 

Francis, of course did. What can I say. I love french peeps, and they love me. 

** ** ** ** ** 

"Have a good day, sweetie. And remember. First impressions mean everything." My mother said, as I slammed shut her black, Jaguar XKR. 

'First impressions my a$$. Shouldn't have dropped me off at school then.' I thought hastily to myself. 

As I was walking up to Johnson Height's main entrance, which might I add is quite large, I couldn't help but notice the typical cliche cliques. 

Emos.

Jocks.

Rockers.

Punks.

Skids.

Cheerleaders.

Preps.

Nerds.

And just plain, outcasts.  

I can honestly say, it's a real shame. That this is what high school has become. Lovely.

As I opened the large doors, took my first breath of Johnson air, people glanced at me, while almost half of those's eyes lingered.

'New girl' people whispered all around me.

'For the love of god and all that is holy.' I thought to myself, did they really think I couldn't hear them?

This town isn't even small. I guess rich people news just spreads faster then normal?

I smirked at everyone staring.

Who knows. Maybe I can have some fun this year.