Noble (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter 1

Picture on the right is of Trinity. Jealous of Lauren Conrad. She's so pretty.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm dressed for school and I look good.

Or at least I tell myself that. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, subconsciously pointing out my flaws. I've always been insecure about my looks. I take one final look at myself, focusing on the resented freckles that match the colour of my light brown hair, when Mike walks into my room.

"Ever heard of knocking?" I ask, my cheeks burning. "Checking yourself out?" He asks smiling, handing me a donut. "No, thanks, I already ate."

His jaw drops, a look of shock spreading across his defined face. "You never turn down food."

It's true. I don't know how on earth I maintain my small figure with my appetite. I eat more than anyone I know. Most girls starve themselves, me, well I'd rather be happy than hungry. He studies my face, looking for any clue as to what my deal is. I feel self conscious and release a sharp exhale. "Is something wrong?" He asks, a look of concern written across his face.

"It's nothing, really. Let's go before we get detention for being late, again." I grab the donut and try to hide my embarrassment as I pass him going out the door.

Mike owns an old Chevy truck, and it's pretty broken down. If I had the money, I'd buy him new parts, but unfortunately, I'm broke, and Will is poor. I have a job but it pays inadequately. This is one of the many reasons why I despise my mother, who fled when Will turned 18, and therefore was old enough to be my legal guardian. Last year we almost got our house foreclosed because Will lost his job and there weren't any job offerings. We don't talk about Cassandra, my mother, and I like it that way. I glance over at Mike. He looks relaxed. I wonder what he's thinking about. Mike has short, dark brown hair, and a wide jaw. His parents named his middle name Grey for his eyes. When they are grey, which is 90% of the time, they look like the color of the cobblestone on the driveway leading up to his house. When they are blue, which is only when he is angry, they are the color of the ocean. Luckily now they are grey. I wouldn't want to deal with an angry Mike.

We arrive at the school and Mike parks his truck in our parking space but doesn't get out. This is colloquial, for we've been doing this ever since he got his truck last year. I check the clock on my phone. 7:28. Good. We've got about 17 minutes. I scan the parking lot. Although Mike is a boy, he is like that girl best friend that you just adore gossipping with. Everyday he parks his truck here, and we talk. We talk about people, our home life, about what's been occuring lately in our lives or who we're crushing on. I look up, and see Blaire Chandler stepping out of his extortionate, new Porsche. This kid is enthralling. He looks like he was taken straight out of a Giorgio Armani ad, and some good Samaritan decided to drop him here, in dinky Hollendale, Louisiana. Even if his face were repugnant, his charm would still make him irresistable. Every teenage female in this town wants him, even some males. But only one has him. Olivia Nicole Pruitt, AKA Hollendale's Pride and Joy. She was last year's prom queen and in the running for this year. Her father is a well known lawyer, having defended several celebrities. She just met Will Smith last week at a banquet, I know because she flooded everybody's Facebook feed with pictures of her and his son, Jaden. I absolutely detest her. She has the personality of a rattlesnake. I wait for Blaire to walk around the car to open her door but instead he strides handsomely towards the school.

"Where's Olivia?" I ask. Mike jumps, startled. Evidently he was in his own daze, probably fantasizing about cars, and girls, and whatever else boys think about. "Huh?"

I shake my head, smiling at his cluelessness. "Where is Olivia?" He does a quick survey of the lot, and spots Blaire walking alone. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. They broke up last night," he says casually, shrugging his shoulders. My eyes light up instantaneously and he groans. "Oh, please don't tell me you still like that jerk." I laugh, poking him in the stomach. "And what if I do?" He sighs heavily and steps out of the car, his expression unreadable, slamming the door behind him. I wonder what his deal is.