Mending Rosaline| slow updates

♛ 04 ♛

The tall sandstone bricks loomed over me hauntingly, the whole campus screamed expensive. I would never fit in here, only rich people would. I don't have perfectly cut hair, let alone look pretty at all. That was another thing, everyone here was beautiful, they were like angels.

The boy beckoned me to follow him into the main building. This seemed to be the tallest building here, ending in a tall steeple with a large bell dangling from it, chiming gracefully.

My footsteps echoed loudly while we were walking through the lengthy corridor, the boy guiding me was moving gracefully, so much so that if I couldn't see his legs I would've thought he was gliding along. We reached a large set of oak wooden doors, which the boy placed a thunderous knock on it. The door sung open to reveal a large desk with a thin wiry man, who I assumed was the principle, completely focused on his seemingly important phone call.

He didn't even notice our arrival.

All of a sudden, he set down his phone on the desk with an angered look. His head shot up staring at the boy next to me, not even sparing me a glance. Was he oblivious to my presence?

"What are you doing in here, David?" He'd demanded.

The boy, David, fidgeted nervously under the principles glare. "I-I was showing Rosaline where to go, sir." This was an exact opposite of what he was ten minutes ago.

"Why didn't you knock, boy?" He said while observing me with a judgemental glare.

"I did." David replied timidly, I now knew the reason to his deafening knock.

"Knock louder next time. Anyways, welcome Rosaline, I'm sure your glad to be here."

"Actually-" I was about to finish my sentence when the phone rang piercing through my words. Subsequently, the old man answered it and shooed us out of his office.

"Look who's not all high and mighty anymore." I chuckled looking up at David.

"I'm not about to get fired for talking back, some people need jobs to earn their own money." He said bitterly and walked off.

He must have thought I was one of those kids, the ones who don't need to do anything but have money piling in by the second. Oh how he was wrong, my parents had to work long hours and after the crash they seemed to work even longer, coming home in the early hours of the morning. They probably didn't know how to react when their daughter, who originally rarely cried, broke down all the time.

I wouldn't blame them though.

Who'd want to be around a moody teenager who would spend all her time crying, whose eyes were like a dam if it's walls had broke?