Adore

//Preface//

      One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood. Phoebe and I didn’t even have to speak; an exchange solely of our eyes was enough to know we were on the same page.  

                The boys of our school changed over the summer and we are going to die.

          We walked through the hollowed halls of Lion Crest Academy observing everything and everyone. Our strides long and fast, somehow in sync. So many people were talking and hugging- mostly the girls- like they hadn’t seen eachother for years. But, I could see their eye's wander towards me. I was the summer tragedy gossip. 

                “Let us be thankful of the miracle that happened during this summer, Wren. I never thought this moment would be as glorious as this,” Phoebe put her hand on my shoulder, her eyes cast down in seriousness. Leave it her to be overly dramatic.          

                Nodding back to her, I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal. Yes, they’ve changed, but these guys are still assholes.”

                “Yeah, but look at Ricky Dorian. He got taller over the summer and I can see his abs under that shirt. You see it, don’t deny it. Oh god, imagine them during senior year.”  She stopped suddenly and turned to the navy blue locker, number 257. Damn, mine’s 489, six hallways away.

                She didn’t have to put anything in there, since school started today, but Phoebe only needed to practice opening the lock, as did I when we reached my locker. Kory waited for us at there, I told him last night where it was going to be.

                “So lovely ladies, ready for the torture to begin in T minus ten minutes?” at his words, I suddenly felt down, sighing thinking: 184 more days of agonizing starts until next summer vacation. 368 days in total until graduation.

                 High School is like a spork: it's a crappy spoon and a crappy fork, so in the end it's just plain useless. But Wren, think of all he benifits. We learn social heirarchys, how to deal with people and responsibilites and and and and- A whole lot of other shit I could put into an essay, courtesy of my goddamn english classes. Just kidding, I love my english classes. 

                “I want to chop someone’s head off,” a groggy, familiar voice joined in the conversation behind me. Oh Landon, always the optimist. Landon looked like shit. Probably up all night playing video games. Diablo or something. It’s not called beauty sleep for nothing.

                Phoebe clicked her tongue, “Well if it isn’t Sally Sourpuss.”

                “Shut the fuck up, Phoebe. I can’t- I can’t process right now. I need caffeine. Wren, save me, you know me. Please tell me you have something.” Oh poor baby.

                Reaching into my bag, I felt the coldness of the Starbucks can and grabbed. “I got you, bro.” Landon let out a girly squeal while snatching it from my hands. Jesus Christ, him and his coffee. “Kory, what’s your first class?”

                He scratched his head, looking at the crinkled paper in his hands. “For what? Block A or Block B? Because for today everyone is on Block B, then Block A tomorrow.”  

                Our school has different schedules that aren’t like regular high schools in the country. “Blocks” mean the type of classes you’re taking for the day.  A classes are the required courses; English, Math, Science, and History. B classes consist of electives, such as P.E., a World Language, types of art classes, and all that jazz. It’s easier than it sounds and has a lot more variety than the regular same six classes every single day. Upside, you have two days to do homework; downside is that the classes are 2 hours long.

                “Obviously today’s schedule.”

                “P.E. with Jorgensen, you guys?” he said happily.

                “Ditto” Landon and Phoebe chimed.

                I groaned. “Damn it. I have Psychology.” I shouldn’t be surprised, this happened before last year. This school hates me.

                Kory pinched my right cheek with his bottom lip puckered out. “Sorry, Wrenny-Poo. You’ll have to survive all by your lonesome.”

                The bell range when I growled at him and they went the opposite direction as me.

                  __________________

Bonjour,

My name is Viranda and I know this is a really short chapter :/ but this the prologue or preface or whatever.

The fun will begin in the next chapter, with about 4-5 pages long. If that is ok to who is actually reading this.

I’m thinking changing the title. Actually I will be changing the title. To what, I don’t know yet.

Au revoir,

    -Viranda