Pure Blood

Hi there! My first publishing on Wattpad hope you enjoy!  

Sorry for misleading you since this chapter has nothing to do with Martine... You can skip if you want to get to the main story :)

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Prologue

Enslaved

The boy sat in class, unable to understand the teacher's droning voice. The words just drifted- like the gliding air- into one ear, and past out the other, flying through him, his mind, not bothered to decipher the challenging code.

The boy stared out into the world- which was inches from him; separated by a strong slab of glass. He wondered if the world was just a tiny, weak grain of wheat which lived amongst grand beanstalks that thought of it as nothing, taking over it's roots carelessly to help themselves grow.

Or, if the world had many wonders, and that no one could ever explore thes treasures with the little time they ever had. He remembered his favourite saying, 'So many things to do, so little time.' He wanted to use his time to the very fullest. He wanted to do everything before he died.

And here he was , wasting that precious time he knew he had so little of.

Spring air whirled the blossom trees, petals were ripped out of their branches, fluttering gently down like snow. Pink snow. It was everywhere- on the ground where they turned an ugly mud brown colour, swooped up in an innocent tornado, resting on the school roof as looking as fresh as if it had just arrived there...

It had been four years since the last time he saw her. Avoiding the thought that, the love was, indeed, one-sided, it had been hard to cope without her. Furthermore, he turned down fifteen good-looking girls for her. It was natural for his mates to call him a hopeless romantic. Add 'useless' and it would be his new name. The Useless, Hopeless Romantic.

The boy realised that he was still in class. He jerked up in his seat- straightening himself into a sitting position- and burst into full attention. He saw everyone with arched backs, writing. The boy had never day dreamed for so long since about a decade ago. He cursed, muttering strong words he only used when he was this desperate. He looked at the French teacher, who had now noticed the boy's troubled face. The old man glared at him, eyes shining dull yellow.

The boy darted his own eyes towards the whiteboard, hoping that all he had to do was copy out a paragraph. His heart sank dramatically down to his toes. It was a levelled assessment- answering questions he didn't know the answers to.

'How long had I been in my own head?' he thought to himself.

He frowned furiously down at his desk, as if it was the entire desk's fault that this had happened. The boy cowered over his desk, burying his face. The teacher opened his mouth to insult the boy when-

"Sorry to interrupt!"

The headmaster's voice.

"M-Mr Stoner! It's absoloutley fine, what do you need from us?"

Mr Gayner treated the headmaster differently, since every teacher was a woman except for the two of them. No wonder My Gayner hadn't married. The man was also known as Mr Gay Nerd for these facts.

"I need one of your students."

A shuffle of jumpers meant that the whole class wanted to help him; who wouldn't want to spend a few minutes with the famous Sir Stoner?

The headmaster gave out a short, forceful laugh.

"No thanks, I need..."

The boy finally lifted his head off the desk, looking straight at Mr Stoner.