Bad girl / Misunderstood

Chapter 2

I don't bother to look back and find out who it is. But he suddenly leans across the aisle to my desk and starts waving his hand in front of my eyes. Who the hell he is and what for God's sake is he doing? So I turn to him and don't recognize him. Then I think of Abby's morning talk about the new guy in our class...so it must be him.

„Hi, I'm Matt. I'm new here." He says in a deep voice with a bit of joy and I shiver from it. He is smiling ear to ear with very arrogant smile and he straightens a hand to me. I just stare at him for a while but he keeps the hand straightened and continues. „What's your name ?" I want to snap something sarcastic, but Abby suddenly puts my hand to his and says: „This is Emily. She doesn't like people." At least she deals with it for me. She finally lets go of my hand and gives him hers. „I'm Abby and if you need something, ask me."

I find out that he's just moved here. They are chatting and I feel like he still keeps his eyes on me but every time I look, he quickly turns his head. The teacher finally comes in so he turns forward. Abby turns too but doesn't forget to give me a tetchy glance, but I just roll my eyes at it. She can't think that I will believe her she does it just for decency.

After three hours of really trying not to fall asleep, I'm moving into another classroom. I have management and journalism classes that I really enjoy and I can also get away from this new boy. He sends some strange vibes. There were girls and boys all around him every break and it was clear that he enjoys attention, mostly from opposite gender.

„So you quite tough, huh?" As I turn I see the new one next to me. I think that his name is Matt. He has dark brown hair that reaches his forehead. But it's his eyes that completely got me. They are so dark. I even think if they aren't darker than mine. He would be the only one in the world. I stopped myself from such thoughts and try to focus on my way. He is walking the same direction as I am and I realize that this way leads to only one classroom.

„I hope that you are lost." I don't bother to answer his question, he will soon find out himself anyway.

But he just chuckles. „ Unfortunately, I am not. I have management now. Apparently, you will have to stick with me for a few more hours." That arrogant smirk still on his face and he also raises an eyebrow provocatilly.

Yeah, an asshole. I roll my eyes and enter the classroom. I sit on my usual place and he sits right next to me. It isn't my day today, tho. Fortunately, a bunch of girls sits around him – our "school stars", skinny, fake and thick as a brick. They keep him a company for the next two hours and I look at his tattoos. On the arms he has strange ornaments. Under bright T-shirt they shine through so I see that they scretch up to his shoulders and some on the chest.

When it finally rings I fly out of the classroom, to my car and head right home. Even though there is nothing better awaiting for me, I can at least get in my room and be alone. Not that I would have got bad parents or something. It's the right opposite. They are too good and caring. They probably see me as the second Einstein or they are just way too naive. I understand that every parent wishes nothing but the best for his/her child and that would be OK. But my parents don't care of what I want or what I wish for.

No, my parents planned me the whole future a long time ago. They've chosen me the best high school, prepare me for Oxford in order to make me a lawyer and follow their career.

They are both lawyers, known by an half of the London. One would think it's great but after some time you get really annoyed. They always deal with everything for me and never let me manifest. Everyone automatically sees me as a nice and ambitious girl without even talking or knowing me. As if no one cares about the truth. Just about what they can do for me so my parents would have obligation against them and then use them. But my parents don't care about the truth either. They consider my dreams as something childish and worthless.

By the time I come to our house. We live in a suburb of London. Every time I go there I think about these people, our neighbors, and what they actually are. They are bureaucrats, who see only money. But, were they always like this? Have they always cared just about place in the public chart? My parents are the same, but the worst thing is that they expect me to be like them as well.

I find my mum working on a laptop. She does this half of her time. The second half she works at a laptop in her office. After all, career is the most important – well, according to my parents. But I like it in a certain way. They have less time with dragging me in their wretched social life and planning out my future.

„Hi honey." My mum greets me. She looks the same like every day. She has dirty blond hair in a mikado haircut, where every hair is on its place.

„Hi." I answer in my usual bored tone.

„How was school?" She doesn't bother to look up from the laptop.

„Good." As every day. I just want to leave when mum finally turns and looks at me.

„Dad had to leave to a business trip very urgently. It's just for a few days. But I thought about some girl night." I usually spend around two minutes a day with parents. I got used to it over the years but the though about some time spent with my mum really pleases me. „I can't today yet, because I have a lot of work but what about tomorrow?"

„Sure."

„Great." She says exited and turns back to the screen which ends our conversation.

Then I head to the kitchen on the opposite side. We have a huge kitchen with an island in the centre. It's styled with dark marble and perfectlly furnished what is quite irony because my mum can cook maximally some tea. But I like it 'cause I love to cook and bake. According to mum it's absolutely useless skill, but what she thinks stopped bothering me a long time ago. I take some water, and through hallway head up the stairs.

Parents consider my room as a junkyard of uselessness, where they cannot move, so they come here very rarely, which is even better.

I throw my bag on the table, turn on the iPod and lay on the bed.

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