My Scars

Chapter one:

My eyes lingered on the exam papers as I tapped my pen on the desk with frustration letting my long dip died blonde hair fall around my face. Why just why do I need to sit this English test? I didn't need it in the future. I didn't even want a job! The room smelled like vanilla as my teacher was addicted to scented things from candles to air conditioners. The walls were all white except for one wall which was all covered in glass, actually the whole side of the building was glass, facing towards the quad and field. Mum and Dad had brought me to Hartfield High School where every rich kid in San Diego goes to (including me). My butt was getting sore by sitting on the hard plastic chair for almost two hours. I shift my weight to the right. The table moved under my arm making me almost punch myself in the face. Why do I always get the freaking squeaky desk. I looked over at Mrs Menlove who was at the front of the room on her wooden desk in front of a whiteboard that had all the rules about this exam. She had greasy black hair that was pulled back into a tight bun on the top of her head that made her dark almost black eyes look bigger. Her glasses were at the tip of her nose as she looked at me over the top of them as well as stacking 'important' papers.

"Five more minutes. Finish what you are doing."

Did I say how ugly her outfit choices were. It was like she picked them out of a charity shop. She wore today a mustard top with grey business trousers and a chunky beaded necklace that stopped just at the start of her, well, what if I could say breasts which was basically flat. I looked at my papers and hoped it would be a good enough score to please my presents.
" Olivia, can you collect the papers please."

I stood up and brushed the creases off my black skinny jeans and made sure my cheetah top was in line. Everyone's eyes looked at me,  I use to hate people looking at me until I meet Ryan.