Bad Girl vs. Bad Boy

1. You Mess With The Bike, You Mess With Me

KIARA'S POV

To say that I was an easy, average child would be like a historian saying, "OK, let's look at the good points about Adolf Hitler." I know for a fact I was a diablo; I got good enough grades but the classroom was just not my scene. My scene was roaming the school halls and causing trouble. But, unlike many pathetic amateurs who dared to call themselves bad, I never once got caught in the act or discovered. I don't mean to be boastful . . . . . wait a minute, yes I do . . . . . . . but I knew how to make it look as though it wasn't me. Or I would scramble the CCTV; I am not top of the class in ICT for a reason! Of course, my peers knew the truth; the wannabe baddies said nothing and cheered me on while the dweebs with haloes around their heads tried their best to get me into trouble but of course, the little children failed each attempt. Every time my dad saw my report card, I had to bite my lip to keep myself from bursting into uncontrollable laughter, especially when one time I was dubbed as "a model student"! Model student!! Hahahaha! Only if you want everyone to join the Dark Side.

I was the reigning Queen of the school; I was Queen of Evil, Bad Girl Number One. I thought my reign would last until Year 11. But then, my father took a job in Salem, Massachusetts. That's right; from England to the United States. To add to that, the frisking village of those witch hunts! That is when I came face to face with my counterpart.

Salem was nothing like Cambridge. The people drove on the right hand side of the road and the amount of people who talked about witches or ran something associated with witches, such as the pub or the Witch House, was staggering. I am not at all complaining; I myself was a practitioner of the Craft. What surprised me was the openness of the people. In a matter of days of moving into our house, we heard about a dozen people mention witches or witchcraft.

Our house didn't improve situations. Dad, wanting to try and fit into Salem, had bought this gothic mansion like house that was three storeys or so high. It also happened to be located near the house of three sisters proven to be witches and hung. Fortunately I had a back bone because otherwise I would have simply refused to step a foot near the house.  

The house was a minute castle, almost. It was a blend of Hampton Court, Dracula's castle and Warwick Castle with a sprinkle of complete and utter creepiness. It was like we were in some horror film, which I love btw, and were about to enter the place we'd all be last seen alive. The place was surrounded by thick trees that were already losing their leaves, some of them and the gardens were full of weeds fungi, poisonous pants and roses, the latter was the only decent normal plant there. 

The inside was even worse; literally nothing apart from the kitchen was modern. Everything still had the essence of medieval about it. The archway designs were so dominant that pretty soon, I could not stand the sight of an archway design. We stood in the entrance hall of our new humble abode.

"Home sweet home," Maliki said darkly.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Dad said happily, sighing. "We live in a quiet area yet very near people!"

"Why did you have to take this job at the Salem University?" Jace complained, looking disdainfully at the suit of armour that stood adjacent to the coat peg. "And pick this house of all homes?!"

"Scared, Jacey Boy?" I sneered.

"No!" Jace snapped, blushing the exact same colour as beetroot.

"I think you are!" I jeered in a sing son voice. "Admit it! Admit it, admit it, admit it!"

"Children, enough!" Dad said sharply. "How about you go and pick out your rooms, settle down and then go into town and get familiar with the towns' folk?"