The first thing i noticed about the new boy was his attitude. Normally they are arogant,cocky with the kind of annoying smirk that make you want to rip their face off. The rookie was all shy, and bowed his head. You could see him almost collapsing against the lockers after the mob of Blondes had crowded him. From his level of incompetence and attention- shyness, I'd say he could barely be a month or two old, but then from his expression, those two months hadn't been a joyride at all.
And he was beautiful. it was the only way to describe his perfect, high jaw bones, his light, brown almost blonde, hair, his eyes were the sort of green that kind of reminded me of the forest and the trees whilst being so gorgeus that any girl could have fallen for him in a heartbeat. He knew this, but instead of the other fools, he tryed to slip underneath the radar, which probably worked in Ireland, but in America, he was dead meat. And cooked too. After leaving the 'It' girl, he just carried on walking, underneath the glares of most of the corridor and their stiff, arrogant silence. I found myself feeling sorry for him, which was not a good idea. I'd meet properly soon enough, but first I needed to do my unofficial job and find out who he was. Unlike the cocky, little prats from earlier years, this guy might pose a certain difficulty. I kind of like difficulty.
And that last part made me sound like a serial killer or something, but whatever, i have a job to do so... Bye!
Charlie
The first day was hell, the same treatment until i got off the bus and walked up the short drive to the less short nor small house that i'd just moved into. Why did everyone asume i was related to a band member? I do play the guitar, and left a band when i left Ireland, but come on, Niall Horan?
The house is huge, four storeys and white with a double garage and a massive garden that i had o intention of investigating. My Dad wouldnt be back before nine or ten so i had a while to hang around. My little brother Josh would be back whenever his new babysitter dropped him off, and I had yet to meet the new, unavoidable cleaner.
The fourth story was more of an attic than a story, but it was also the width of the whole house, one room and mine. There wasnt even an arguement, so i got the attic as my room, with a bit of a lounge and simple kitchen space as well as a bedroom,all open plan and with more space than i needed. There was also a bathroom with a real bath and shower in one corner. The only downside, I had to drag all my belongings and the new and pointless things Dad had bought me as 'consolation' up a trapdoor. The first thing I looked for was a padlock.
