Behind the Chaos

-1. sportscars&anarchy-

chapter 1- Cindy's pov

07.00 red numbers on my shelf displayed along with a blaring beep beep. I lift my hand, smack down on the alarm clock, pull up my blanket, rest my head back in the comfy spot on my pillow, my eyes begin to droop and-

what the fudge? 09.18 HOLY SNICKERDOODLE IM LATE! My eyes widen, I lift my head, tear the blanket from my pajama clad body, literally jump out of my bed, and blink. I blink again. What just happened?

No one bothered to even wake me up? "Mom? Dad?", I shout into what appears to be just the air of the hallway as no one replies.Perhaps they were all in a rush. Or maybe they're all sleeping too, I wasn't loud enough.

I shout again, louder this time. "Drew?! Dyl?!". No response, and it dawns on me.

No, I haven't missed an important club meeting or an orchestra recital, or a trip to the wild. I'd be the last to join any extracurricular activity of any form, particularly for this exact reason: I love sleep. Although, I have just slept through four of the noisiest people I've ever met when they're waking up and going to work or school.

I mentally fist bump myself, achievement!

I then pause, I look at the floor, contemplating what may just be the most important decision of my week. Do I attend, or skip school?

I'll skip, easiest option, I can avoid the glares from walking into class late, and I don't have to attend English- worst class by far don't hate me. Buuuttt, I have to hand in an essay for geography, which I stayed up all night to perfect (also the reason I woke up late and so am in this predicament but who cares, am I right?) and I don't exactly want to look like I don't appreciate my scholarship. I close my eyes and exhale a big sigh. I guess we're going in.

*****

A white, over sized turtle neck, black jeans and Chuck Taylor's is what stares back at me in my reflection. I tilt my head, not truly satisfied with my look. Then again isn't everyone like that; always wanting to be better. It's like a built in mechanism in our heads, it's frustrating but so fascinating at the same time it's complicated to wrap my head around it.

I've always had a little, if not more, jealousy at the back of my mind. To the girls whose lips are more fuller than mine; whose hips are slimmer than mine; whose thighs have gaps and whose wrists are the same size as one of those perfume bottles that are really thin.

I first felt the first spring of jealousy in middle school. Moving up was hard and seeing everyone move on so quickly from new haircuts to even boob jobs (not that I want a boob job...unless...) was more surprising than shocking. I realized I had fallen short on being gorgeous because we didn't have the money to be able to afford luxuries.

But of course from then as a family, we have improved and are better off than before. We're not millionaires or billionaires but we're happy and despite what we don't have I believe that happiness and togetherness is the best thing we do have.

I lock the door, taking a bite of my apple and start walking to school, still perplexed at how no one knew I was sleeping. And apparently I snore, pfft lies.

Fifteen minutes and one apple later, I arrive at school regretting my decision.

I can still turn back, it's not too late. I can hear my bed calling out to me. Or is it me calling out for my bed? I guess we'll never know.

I look up at the big black letters which read 'Maple Ridge High'. A school named after a tree and a geographical feature, amazing? I internally grimace, tell me about it. I turn around ready to retreat back to my humble abode but am prevented when two sports cars come speeding into the school parking lot.

I instantly recognize the matte black Mercedes-Maybach Exelero and the Pagani Huayra Imola, but who do they belong to?

Never mind the owner, although they must be richer than most of the students at Maple Ridge to have cars worth more than five million dollars, I'm too stunned by the beautiful vehicles that seem to be racing. The Exelero, clearly the winner by not many seconds, brakes skillfully in between a BMW and Audi parked at the entrance of the parking lot. Meanwhile the Imola brakes into half a doughnut in front of the entrance.

Finally all of the time spent with Dyl has paid off, I feel blessed to have seen two of the most immaculate sports cars, my legs are still unable to move even though they've finished the race. My eyes are glued to the scene, now itching to get a glimpse of the racers.

I squint my eyes to get a glimpse through the tinted windows of each car, however as quick as I blink, each driver revs to which they clearly exceed the speed limit. They speed closer to the spot where my feet are currently rooted to the ground and I make no attempt to move, let alone flinch; my curiosity peaks and my heart is in my mouth at the moment both cars worth more than me, my house and entire life savings come to a halt.

My eyes widen and I take a look in the cars I thought I'd only see in my dreams. Too late, I thought as both engines simultaneously stop running. Huh? And before I knew it, lo and behold, the doors to each driver's car open revealing the racers themselves.

In my head, I play out the scene perfectly: 

Bishop Briggs' song 'River' plays as the runner up is first revealed. The door to the Imola opens exposing the latest Adidas Yeezy sneakers. My eyes travel upwards as his upper body is revealed; a long black, almost like a cotton duster-jacket, over a pair of regular fit, Prussian blue jeans and a wool sweater. Formality radiated from him, his loose, swept back, ash blonde locks and hazel eyes only confirmed it.

♪"Shut your mouth and run me like a river" ♪

A split second later and the winner reveals himself. Ripped, black jeans and the latest Nike Air Jordan's step out of the vehicle. My eyes travel upwards to a pair of slim fit black jeans and a Karl Lagerfeld branded T-shirt hidden behind a navy blue varsity jacket, clearly in the way of his abs that threaten to expose themselves. I internally drool that both of the racers have such modern outfit choices. Surely they're not students, right? My gaze floats higher to his jawline- oh heavens, am I drooling? Perched on his nose sits a pair of classic aviator sunglasses. As if on cue, he removes the sunglasses revealing what appear to be pine-green colored orbs. He runs his right hand through his already tousled black hair, like an undercut quiff, while his left hand closes the car door behind him. He looks down to my height and smirks.

"Pen?", the winner asks monotonously as he raises his eyebrows, almost as if he was expecting this to happen. What? I look up at his tall frame to see his hand in front of me. "Look at that Jax, I'm so hot she's speechless, or she's mute", he chuckles to himself. woah, sexy voice alert. I always wanted to hear the perfect definition of what chick flicks and books term as the 'sexy voice' and honestly, this is it.

Stop! Focus, Cindy, you're confused. I tilt my head slightly trying to see him in a different perspective, but I fail, his narcissism just emits from him like the heat from the sun. He was expecting me to ask for an autograph! What the fridge?

"Who are you?", I say, calmer than I intended.

And I'd forgotten all about the swoon over the race and the epic reveal. This boy, who is practically made of money, stands in front of me like an equestrian statue, and assumes I want his autograph? For what exactly?

He parts his plump lips and before he lets out a word, the bell sounds, alerting time for lunch. How long have I been here? "I am-", he starts with a prideful smirk, prior to the crowd that rushes from the main doors, erupting in anarchy, clearly excited for something. His smirk widens.

Is there a fight? Is it already Friday? Is the cafeteria serving chocolate pudding?!

_____

A/N

First chapter= complete! Fist bump, pow!

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