In the brick-walled toilets, I sit down on the floor and wait for my head to stop spinning. Once it does, I stand up and grip the edge of the Stainless Steele sinks. I look in the mirror and survey the damage. There is a bruise flourishing under my chin. My cheek is turning purple and I have a split in my lip. My hair has come loose from its braid and has been slightly matted with blood.
I lift my shirt and find that there are bruises all along my stomach and rib cage. I check my legs and see that they have cut and bleeding. I wash my face and get rid of the blood in my hair. I grab a roll of toilet paper and wrap it around my legs as a makeshift bandage until I can find an actual one.
It annoyed me how easily Rian could mock me about my parents. He was right they we're barely ever at home, they travelled a lot for work. At the moment they were in Asia. It began when I was about 14. They would go away for a couple of months and then come home. Mum hired a cook and a maid and my grandma came down every weekend to make sure I was ok. Now they don't bother. I live in the house on my own, the maid comes once a fortnight while I'm at school. Grandma visits about as much as Mum and Dad.
The agreement we have is we Skype every weekend for at least ten minutes. No matter what day it is, I have to be Skyped when Dad opens his birthday presents and they have to come home for Christmas and stay home until my birthday on the 7th of January. This means that I am there for Mum's birthday on the 3rd and that they're there for mine.
Once I am sure I look less like a refugee from a war torn country and more like a moron that got herself into a fight, I leave the bathroom and limp my way back to the auditorium.
I let myself in the door and I hear Mr.Balmer stop talking. He smiles and motions for me to sit on the wooden floor with everyone else.
"Now we're all here, I'm sure you're all curious as to what this lessons surprise is." He begins
There are nods and murmurs of agreement from then class.
"Well, at the end of last year if you will remember I got you all to perform different pieces and I filmed them for a competition."
I remembered it vividly. I had been Cleopatra and I had been unfurled from a carpet in front of Julius Caesar (played by a guy called Jai). It was one of the funniest scenes and we had to do about 400 takes because Jai and I kept laughing as I fell out of the carpet.
"Well I happened to win. The prize was that this class got professional mentors for the next year and three terms, until you graduate. They will help you with your senior project next year and you will be able to go with them to auditions, filming and the like."
There were loud whispers and speculations about who they might be.
"Channing Tatum!" One girl whispered
"Jennifer Lawrence." One boy drooled.
Theories were flung back and forth. I didn't think it seemed likely that we'd have incredibly famous celebrities. We'd probably have more minor actors and actresses.
Mr.Balmer brought us back to attention. "Quiet you lot because there is two more important facts. One, everyone will get at least one mentor, but some of you may get more. Two, you will not pick your mentors. They will pick you."
There was a collective groan from the class.
"I'm sorry. But this is the best way to do it. It will prevent fights over who gets who."
I groaned inwardly. They were probably all superficial prats and I'd end up last chosen because of my weird looks.
"So!" Mr.Balmer yelled cutting off the babble of the class. "It is my greatest pleasure to introduce your mentors for the next year and three quarters."
From behind one of the stage curtains came a long line of celebrities.
My theory was wrong.
They all well known.
Girls screamed with happiness and rapidly tried to fix their hair and makeup. Boys puffed out their chests in an effort to make themselves look manlier.
I scanned the faces of people I'd only ever seen on TV, desperately hoping to find my three favourites. I didn't even need all three of them just one. Preferably Thomas Brodie-Sangster but you know I'd be happy with any of them.
Three quarters of the way down the way down the line I saw them. Thomas Brodie-Sangster, Dylan O'Brien and Ki Hong Lee. My three favourite Gladers, side by side in a line. Possibly my mentors.
And then it hit me. That's right I am a pale skinned, rainbow haired, stuttering weirdo.
Crap.
Q vCf
YOU ARE READING
Be My Glader
Fanfiction"School... the torture we have to go through to make sure one day we'll get out of this hellhole and hopefully move to a bigger hellhole full of famous people. Day after day after day after day of routine in the hopes that we are made for something...
