I was surprised by how much I was dreading the first day. Maybe back home I could have hidden behind the bins, or worn a vary big hat, but round here my cap had been confiscated, and I had yet to find a bin that wasn't surrounded by smokers or drug dealers. The summer was hotter than I was used to, but my hood hid my face at least partly. I wasn't given any looks until I was waiting in reception to pick up my school things.
The receptionist was plump and smily, the sort of sickly sweet smile you give to toddlers when they have lost a toy, and took so long I was twenty minutes late to my fist lesson of the day. English Lit. I had the peace of empty corridors though, which provided some sanctuary from the glares annd looks. I spotted one younger kid actually drooling when I looked up to find the sign to Languages and found my room after a few minutes.
Before I knocked, the room was silent about from a montous drone from the teacher, and the occasional laughs or murmurs. People were doodling in the margins of their new books, scratching the desks and half asleep in the morning sunligh, which shone in from the long windows to one side. After I entered, the people who hadn't heard me knock where immediatly staring. They didn't even have the decency to hide it or change their blank, dumb-looking expressions.
'Um, I'm. Charlie? Charlie Carter? Are you Mr Franklin?' In one sentence the girls and. Half the boys were even more transfixed, muttering what I most picked up as along the lines of 'Niall' and 'Direction'. Still ducking my head, I felt the teacher actually pull up my chin to see my face, which hurt slightly, but didn't distract me from the generql glares from boys around the room. 'Mr Franklin' started asking questions.
'New to California?'
' Yes, Sir. '
'New to America, even?'
'Yes, Sir. '
' Well sit down at the back, there, and I will know when you talk. Remeber to find a copy of 'King Lear' by William Shakespeare for your next lesson'
Pulling my hood back up from when it had fallen, and ducking ny head again, I realised the only place free was next to a girl without the simpering smile. Instead, she gave me a sort of mocking smirk, without the harshness of the dramatic stare that one jock was giving me. Walking to the back beside her and putting my worn leather satchel on the desk, I gave her a polite nod which she copied back with the same smirk.
Awkward ly, I realised she was quite good-looking. As in, pretty. Actually, as in drop-dead, faint with joy, most purely perfect person you have ever seen on the planet. It was rather difficult not to notice this, but she had long black hair, all shiny like a television advert, tucked behind her ear in a carfree way which showed in her pale, blue eyes. She never stopped her slight smile as. I sat down and the teacher continued to drone on.
' So in Act One, Scene Two of 'King Lear', it says ' Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide'. Can anyone tell me...'
'Did they?'
'Pardon?'
The girl gave a light laugh, then continued to murmur to me. I was a bit surprised that instead of the strong wildly twisted acent of everyone else I ha d met, she spoke softer, more english of french than american.She was still occasionally ticking a curl of hair behind her left ear.
' Did 'Love cool, friendships fall off and brothers divide or are you just here for the scenery?' She waved her hand out the windows to the beach and surf of classic California, were I had never really noticed but the sea looked almost exactly like her eyes.
' Oh, I see. ' I feebly started,'Well my parents split when I was eight, but my Mum died about a month ago, so me and my little brother had to move out here along with my Dads new job. ' I broke offf slightly. And looked at her curiously,'Thanks.'
'What for?'
'For not doing the ' Oh isn't he cute and sad, his little Mommy is dead so let's treat him like a five year old' Looks.'I learnt I could deal with the flowers the tears and the farewell speeches, but those pitiful looks I hated with a passion. The kind of passion which you once gave your mother.
For the rest fo the lesson, we didn't talk at all. Just sat still listening to the teacher whole kept up his long speech and watching the waves crash onto the beach below. We were on the fourth floor, and I sat right beside the window and close enough to pick out theoccasional bits of seaweed in the blue barriers.
After the bell rang and I stood up to leave, the girl gave me another mocking smile and, with one arm full of bookks and her rucksack on her shoulder, she srode out the door, stopping once to call out, then taking off up the corridors.
'Good luck, And I'm Maia, by the way. '
I Tryed to follow her, partly because I had no idea what I was doing in this school and partly because she intrigued me with her smile and the way she barley noticed the other students, but got barely a metre away from the classroom door.
Everywhere, the hall erupted into screams. Around thirty girls were crowding the doorway, all screaming. It took me around half a second and two guesses why. I heard shouts from across the lockers, someone grabbed my bag, touched my shoulder, held my hand. I felt my head sway. I couldn't see. My vision was blurring. The screams filled my ears. I couldn't breathe. Something began to slip and-
' Girls!' The mob rapidly dispersed, each group of girls retreating away with sour expressions and looked up at the person who shouted, leaning on a locker to get my breathe back.
First obsevation, blonde, very. Blonde and small with the kind of cheerleader, dancer phsic that American football players went mad for. She was also escorted by a what can ony be described as a posse of other blondes, only not quite as good like she had them hand-picked to make her look perfect. At that moment, all I could think of was the burning pressure building inside my head. It took a few deep breathes before I had calmed down.
Blonde had come closer with a soppy simpering smile, all sweet and innocent. Her posse took her bag and she, in turn, started leading me down the. Corridors withher arms around my waist. After a few steps I pulled away sharply. Hating her almost more than the obvious ones from class. Since I turned thirteen, this was how a lot of girls, scratch the ones I already knew before then, treated me, with the same pathetic innocent looks and giggling gangs that would actually trail me.
' Isn't it so awful. Them clinging on a doing those annoying laughs like they're super models. ' She immediatly gave a high pitched giggle and took my hand again. ' Ill show you around if you'd like' And another sickly sweet smile.
I almost walked right off, but I had now doubt she would follow me' so instead tryed to tell her to back off without slapping her hypocritical face. I was getting angry which was really not good. Not good.
' Look, I'm sure you are very nice and kind' but I am afraid I'm not going to do anything except go my way without any drama. Please could you go back to your probably buff and incredibly voilent' not to mention worshipped by every othe girl in school, and stop trying to help me because I don't matter. ' And I walked off. That was one of my smoother down- puts. Many had ended in me being slapped, but somehow this Blonde seemed far to important popular and too stuck up her own backside- to put it lightly- to react like that. I was begging her not to cry. And also pleeding with god for nobody to get me angry.
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Part Two-
The boy knew just how stupid it was to turn down the Lauren Parker. or if he didn't, he was about to and I knew it. Thing is, people never listen to me in my world. Maybe this time they would, or it would effect a whole lot more than some pretty boy from Ireland
