Surviving Ginger Vale High



               Chapter One

            I walked into the front office with my school map in hand. It wasn’t as crowded as I expected it to be on the first day of school, which just confirmed Ginger Vale Prep’s reputation as a well oiled machine.

            I was new, if you didn’t already figure that out, and I could now successfully say that I was lost. My pathetic excuse for a map just showed a bunch of numbered rooms and hallways that just seemed to mesh together. I sighed; it was going to be a long year.

            But, my poor navigation skills are not what had brought me to the school’s main office. Apparently, all new students had to go through some kind of orientation before actually attending the classes you signed up for. It was just a short little seminar that would get you acquainted to usual routines and schedules the school ran on, if the school’s famous reputation didn’t already give you a bit of a clue on what it was like.

            You see, in my old high school back in Rhode Island, there were no clicks or social ladders. Most people just hung out with how they wanted to. Sure, we had our moments when we classified each other as “the sporty ones” or the “nerds and geeks” or whatever. But all in all, our quaint little town had no boundaries or groups.

            But it seems that in Ginger Vale, that is not the case.          Once I stepped through the large glass doors leading into a large country club-like school I knew I was, as Dorothy would put it, “not in Kansas anymore”.

            The first thing I noticed that was different in this school was the girls. Dressed in either super short miniskirts or jeans, from their perfect hair down to their sky-high peep toe heels they were nothing alike to the girls in my old school.

            All of them wore a pound of make-up on their face. Whereas I simply dressed my face up with a bit of concealer, blush, and mascara. They also seemed to wear the most identical outfits which mainly consisted of a tight fitted tank top or see-through sweater, short shorts or a extra mini skirt, and UGG boots or pumps. Also, it seemed no one wore their hair natural; all had it either straightened or curled.

            As you might have guessed I felt quite out of style with my light green, v-neck graphic tee, light wash skinny jeans, and a pair of purple, worn-out converse.

            The next was the male population again, completely different than the boys I had known. Although we had only 24 hours in a day, most of the guys looked like they spent 30 hours working on just their abs. Every one of the guys I had seen so far in this school is completely ripped. And, like the girls, most of the guys copied each other in terms of what they wore; plain tee-shirts that showed of their fit bodies, jeans, and some sort of high-top sneaker that I had never seen before.

            But I guess that’s what you get when you transfer from a small town to Santa Monica.

            As I was saying, I was sitting in the waiting room (yes the school has a waiting room along with every other rich person need there is) waiting for the orientation to begin. My older brother by a year, Ben sat in the seat next to me. He was also trying to figure out how the schedule was supposed to work.

            “Have you ever seen a school so big? It’s like a freaking hotel.” He whispered to me.  I smiled, glad to see we were on the same page. Like me, Ben had wavy light brown hair, freckles, and dimples. Except on Ben they just seemed to kind work. Although I was girl and he a boy, he always was the better looking one out of our family. I had always been kinda jealous of him, but would never admit it. I could put a strain on our close relationship.

            Yes, we were close. A lot closer than most siblings usually are. He was always looking out for me and I him. We could always count on each, especially when our parents are in a particularly strict mood.

            “I know,” I whispered back, “I can’t believe how many bimbos and meat-heads actually go here. I mean I’ve always heard this place changes you but I thought they meant for the better.” Ben smirked at me and ruffled my hair. I swatted his hand away and shoved his shoulder.

            “Hey Nicole,” He said a little more serious than his usual light-hearted tone. I raised an eyebrow at him showing he had my attention. “Just promise me you won’t let this place change you. I don’t want to have some kind of robot for a younger sister.” He said his big blue eyes looking at me with sincerity. I stuck out my pinky.

            Though childish, Ben and I had always used the pinky promise for our most serious matters. Pretty lame, I know, but we started it when we were little and it kinda just stuck. He wrapped his finger around mine and smiled. “There, set in stone.” I said.

            Just then, a skinny woman with long black hair entered the main office. Her right hand she held a clip board and in the other a Starbucks Coffee mug. It seemed everyone here drank coffee no matter what the age. She ran her untrimmed finger down paper clipped to her board and skimmed the page.

            “Is there a Benjamin and Nicole Scott?” She peered around the waiting room even though my brother and I were the only ones in there. I raised my hand.

            “Uh, we are them.” I said

            The woman’s gaze landed on us and she smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. I’m Ms. Fulton, but I would like you to call me Teri.” She outstretched her hand to me and I shook it. “Teri” was not like most teachers I had at my old school.

            First off, her greasy hair trailed down her back all the way to her torso. It was put in tight braid and odd beads were randomly woven in. She was middle-aged and had very stretched laugh lines at the corners of her lips. She wore no makeup and had a very large nose. Her clothes were off as well. She wore a strange tee-shirt that had a picture of a tiger on it and the caption “Safe Our Stripped Friends” below it. A long green skirt the fell to the floor hung on her hips and to top it all off, an ugly pair of dirt colored sandals were strapped around her feet.

            Basically, if you looked up the definition of “hippie” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Ms. Fulton.

            She examined my brother and me, and then said, “Are you two twins?”

            I rolled my bright blue eyes; we were always being mistaken for twins. “No,” I corrected. “Ben is a senior and I’m a junior.” Teri nodded, though I don’t think she really cared.

            She gestured us to follow her into a large room; her office, I guessed. It was decorated with all different kinds of trinkets. Small little wooden animals lined her desk and pictures of endangered species hung on the moss green wall.

            “Welcome to Orientation!” She began, “I am the vice principle of Ginger Vale. I just want to start off and say that if you have any trouble at all to feel free to come to me. Now, lets start off with your schedules . . .”

            Orientation seemed to drag on forever. It was basically about the class expectation and what not. She mainly focused on their dress code, no wonder why. But it didn’t seem as enforced as she made it out to be, seeing as that the girls in this school wear skirts well past four inches above the knee.

            Anyway, after it was over Ben and I were given our class schedules and sent on our way. To my dismay, Ben and I had no classes together. I was hoping that maybe if we were going to have to suffer through these rich brats then I wouldn’t have to do it alone. But alas, fate was cruel and we were separated. Ben tried to reassure it would be okay, but I had a feeling that it was going to be the complete opposite.