another side

chapter one

The brunette ribbons floated down into the sink and I watched as they settled into a small pool of water and became soaked. I hesitantly moved my eyes up to the mirror and studied the slightly crooked job I had done of my fringe. At least it was out of my eyes. I had already come to terms with the fact I was no hair dresser before I had taken up the scissors, so I could ignore the slight diagonal slant at which the right side of my hair was now climbing. There was a part of me that just wanted to keep snipping and show up to school with a raggedy bob and side bangs, but I was running behind as it was, so I laid the scissors down and skipped out of the bathroom.

After slipping on my scuffed black Mary Janes by the door, I strutted out into the cold and began the walk to school. My sister remained at home getting ready, but I couldn't stand getting the bus with her even if it did get me to school quicker. I couldn't exactly put my finger on why; there was just something about it that made me uncomfortable.

Fresh snow was laying on the roof of St Wolfgang's: a school not religious enough to separate boys and girls, but religious enough to make all the girls where their skirts at least an inch below the knee. The skirts were navy with stiff pleats and buttons were also a requirement due to the apparent ease of pulling down a skirt with an elasticated waistband. Our ties were purple and a shocking bright red – as bad a combination as it sounds. White shirts – buttoned to the top, tucked in and long sleeves all year round. Don't even get me started on the blazers. They were awful woollen things, purple like the ties (and not a fun purple. A boring, murky purple like the kind you might make a tea towel out of) and our school's crest on the breast pocket. The crest was typical of most school crests with pictures of books and a microscope with black embroidery beneath it with the phrase "Molann an obair an fear." Or "The work praises the man" in English. Even translated I don't know what that means.

Upon arrival, I darted around the back of the school, avoiding the prying eyes of teachers who might nark me for having my precious blazer slung over my arm instead of allowing it to suffocate me. Despite the cold, the heavy burden of the blazer was still not worth it. I surprisingly made it un-narked to the picnic benches; the favourite hangout of I and my small group of friends.

"Morning, Silly." Levi, my best friend and worst influence greeted as I dumped my satchel and sat down. When I looked at him, the first thing I had noticed was the alarming broccoli colour of his hair.

"I thought you were going to fix your hair before we came back from holidays." I said, leaning over the table to twirl his fringe around my finger.

"In my mind, I'm still on my Christmas holidays." He remarked. He batted my hand away. "Besides, what's to fix? I think it looks just fine."

"I don't think Mr Alcott will agree." I looked around for any nearby teachers or tell-tales. I didn't want to be around when Levi got his sentencing – I had to go to extreme efforts to make teachers not despise me just for being his friend, but his exploits were making that increasingly difficult.

"Mr Alcott can shove his opinion up his hairy, conservative arse." Levi retorted, throwing the apple he had been holding in the air and then catching it before biting messily. His disdain for school seemed to be resonated by the loud angry crunch.

"Charming."

I heard boots in the snow and I whipped around, convinced I would see Mr Alcott hovering there with a grimace and a wad of detention slips in his veiny hands. I was relieved to see what could only be described as the exact opposite. A boy of my age – seventeen – with floppy blonde hair and a cheesy grin. His tie was loose and his top button undone exposing a spattering of freckles on his neck. He waltzed over and took a seat by me and I got a strong whiff of that generic aftershave that all boys seem to douse themselves in, and the warmth of his body instantly took away some of the chill. Nate Berkley. My friend. Well...boyfriend.