HARCEL

Chapter One

Marcel’s POV

 

 

“Hey boobear, I heard that Mrs. Barbauld will be our Biology teacher.” Louis said as we walk through the hallway searching for our classroom.

“What’s with her?” I asked.

“Everybody said Mrs. Barbauld was the strictest teacher here in Eton Harrow University and this was a true thing to say. Some people even said she was the strictest professor in all of the four universities in England, including both junior highs, and high schools, too.” Louis explained. “Certainly, Mrs. Barbauld kept strict order in her junior high classes. The desks in her classroom stood in straight lines across the floor and the students were assigned alphabetically to their seats. Which is a good thing since your last name is Styles and mine is Tomlinson, so we’re probably seatmates!” He continued.

“Hey, are you even listening?” he poked my cheek as I am obviously not paying attention to every word he just said.

“Y-yeah...” I lied.

We went to our first class. I sat on the fifth desk from the last row which is right beside Louis. Our names were written in careful italic lettering on a folded piece of a heavy white construction paper, waited on top of side-by-side desks, on the first day in Mrs. Barbauld’s Biology class. Weird. It’s like we’re in fifth-grade setup, huh?

I would never have said so, but I was a bit relieved to see that I had an assigned seat. Louis stood for a minute in the classroom doorway, just looking at students pass by. He greeted the groups of old friends gathered together.

“Hey Mars, you okay there? Come, I want to introduce you to some of me friends here.”

I stood up and went to Louis.

“Marcel, this is Niall.” Louis said as he twines his arms on the blonde Irish guy with brown hair highlights. I smiled at him and gave him a hand shake. “Hi there mate!” he greeted.

“Liam here.” The other brown-haired guy offered his hand.

“N-nice to meet you.” I said in coyness, “I’m Marcel...”

“I think we need to go inside now. Mrs. Barbauld’s probably here in a minute.” Liam headed inside the room.

I sluggishly sat back on my seat, opened my new blue loose-leaf notebook, and pretended I was busy. I pretended that nothing in the classroom could distract me from this important writing I am doing. I shook free my little golf pen and started writing my name on the last page of my notebook. Actually, I wrote my initials­­— MS.

I wrote them all over the page. MS—MS—MS—MS—MS, right-side up, sideways, upside-down, in arches, all over the page. Doing this sometimes cheer me up.

The desk on my left side stayed empty; some boy named Zayn has to be taking that seat. On my front is a brunette girl, dressed up like 80's old fashioned, not like all the other dumb girl in the class. Brown straight hair she kept shoving behind her ear. She began to stare at me. I stared back then she raised an eyebrow, flipped her hair back and turned away.