The Name is Skye Hawkins

This is a story of an eighteen-year old girl, an athlete, a good friend and daughter but has dark secrets. She wanted to be good because it’s what her parents expect her to be. She’s well off, smart and studying in a prominent school. Pretty in her own way, mysterious but at the same time friendly. Good, but has the craving to be bad. Yes, she’s torn. Let’s join Skye Hawkins in her journey towards life and love.

CHAPTER I.

Meet Me. (Well, at least a slice of me. Did I just say slice? Should I say portion? Part? Yeah. Whatever. I’m a girl. I really can’t describe myself all at once, right?)

Oh well… Here we go.

I am not really one of those “it girls” out there you know. I’m pretty ordinary. I got lots of “friends” but none of get seriously close. At least I don’t allow them to be. I enjoy conversations. I enjoy listening to their problems and give sound advices. Yes, I’m more of a listener than a talker. I prefer that way. It’s convenient and safe and no drama. I’m kinda smart. Not the top of my class. You know, just above the average but a little below the super genius type. I like that. It’s a safe place to be at. No mind boggling research contests and complicated science projects but enough to be recognized for some writing competition and be the editor –in-chief for our school paper. But I know one thing I’m really good at, Archery. I am on the Varsity Archery team. We call ourselves The Guardians, cheesy huh? There are 5 of us and we are not really that recognized at school. Not as much as the Basketball and football teams. Yes, you can say that again. We are in the marginalized sector of the society, I mean school. We don’t have those cheerleaders wearing skimpy wardrobe to cheer us during the game. No, not that I want those. Yucks. And before you say anything, I am straight. You know, not a lesbian. Not that I have nothing against the gay community but what I’m trying to say is that I like boys. Those hot ones. You know, the perfect, ripped types. Gentleman but not all the time. You know what I’m saying? Those Damon Salvatore type with a touch of Stefan. Yes, that’s my definition of perfect and sometimes I spend most of my waking hours day dreaming about my non-existent boyfriend if not reading about them.

Anyway. I’m at College right now, taking up creative writing. Way back in high school. I was really one of those top students. Yes, The Editor-in-chief (guess I can’t let go of that position, can I?), was part of the performing arts and the head cheerleader, the president of the journalism club, and the Vice President of the Student Council (yeah Obama, in your face!). And did I mention that I dated the the captain of the Basketball team? Duh! Surprise! I was a good girl you know. My parents, relatives, friends, teachers, neighbors are proud of me. Kids look at me like they want to be like me when they grow up. You probably think that I’m just so full of myself. And I was. I was pretty confident back then. No insecurities and thought that the world revolved around me. As cocky as it sounds, I got this disease. No, not the pathophysiological one. It’s like psychological. Wait, that didn’t sound right. I’m not crazy like bipolar meets schizophrenia. No. It’s more like the obsession of pleasing everybody around me. Yes. That’s it. Am I being overly dramatic right here? Maybe. But really, I’ll take my stand. I will still call “the obsession of pleasing everybody around me” a disease. Why? Because it’s tiring, exhausting even yet for some reason I can’t let it go. That’s why I was being the good girl. Yes, I was really popular in high school and not to sound condescending, being popular really is tiring. You know, you can’t do anything stupid because people expect so much from you and you have to be very careful with your choice of words because you don’t want to offend anybody even if it is that girl you don’t like because you saw her eye-sexing your boyfriend. No. Whatever lady issues you are facing, you have to plaster that sweet smile, shrug your shoulders and act like it’s cool.

Well anyway, that was like few years ago.

Now I’m at college and I tried my best to be not the same anymore. I tried to be ordinary if not incognito. And I like it. It’s freeing. It’s now time for me to be BAD baby! Oh well, not totally. I’m still at the top 5 of my class, managing the school paper and an archer (how cool is that? “Archer”. Hah! ) but hey, guess I was born awesome and no matter how I try, I really can’t just wrap my all my awesomeness in a bag and tuck it somewhere. Yes darling, say that again, I’m confident and insecure at the same time. Anyway, where am I? Oh, I also don’t smoke and drink. (yeah, I was thinking that if you have to be a bad girl, you have to do at least one of those, it was like a rite of passage or something) but I can’t stand smoking, I did not even try and I’m totally not Interested so well, thank you. And drinking, ugh! How can you stand the taste of beer? It just doesn’t taste good! (Puke!) If only chocolate milk can do the same damage as the alcohol, I will have no problem downing it every hour of my living moments. Why do alcoholic beverages have to taste like a cough medicine? Scratch smoking and drinking in my “how to be a bad girl” list. I just can’t do it. (Yes, I’m bad at being bad. Sucks!) That’s when I decided to join racing. You see, unlike the archery, I am not really in a varsity team for racing (duh? What school has that anyway? If there is, I would still not be joining that, it defeats the purpose of me being bad if the school would recognize it legally you know).