❝ Life is full of surprises, but never when you need one ❞
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He was clad in a white fluffy robe, matching mine, his hair messy, as if he just woke up. I couldn't help but notice how good he l...
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TWO WORDS COULD be used to describe NorthView Academy; expensive and exclusive. Everything about the school screamed those words. The campus boasts regal modern buildings, accented with dozens of beautiful fountains, statues and sculptures. The walls were a pristine white, the floors a glossy marble. The whole school reeked of money. The students weren't much different, all coming from wealthy families. Everywhere you looked there were girls carrying six figure purses and boys with watches that boasted a price tag enough to buy a house. They reminded me of myself.
Girls with straight glossy hair and plump lips donned with lipstick were eyeing me up down while whispering in each other's ears. Most of their looks fell into one of three categories; jealous (probably of my Burberry bag), plain rude or amused. And honestly, I can't blame them because I'm wondering what I'm doing here as well.
It was all her fault. Blair.
After I made it through the doors of the building, I pulled out a crumbled piece of paper from my Burberry Lambskin backpack; my schedule. A throng of students pushed past me, making me drop the already crumpled paper on the floor. I huffed, running a hand through my hair before I smoothed down the mid-thigh length skirt to the NorthView ensemble; consisting of a white button down, navy blazer,and said plaid skirt.
I looked back down at my schedule, willing it to get back in my hand. My attempts in vain, the paper stayed planted in its spot on the glossy floor. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I groaned reaching to pick it up, when a dainty, manicured hand reached for it.
I stood back up, a pretty doe-eyed brunette looking back at me. My unnamed hero was sporting the uniform , obviously, but she styled it effortlessly , in turn making it look personalized and different from everyone else's.
She handed my schedule back to me, flashing me a easy grin. "That schedule already looked traumatized enough" she said with a small smirk.
A chuckle escaped my lips, until we laughed lightly together. Her laugh is eloquent and melodic, it sounds delicate to the ears.
Casually, she smoothed down her hair and adjusted her Hermes Epsom handbag on her shoulder, before she spoke with a warm smile "I'm Cecelia Almasi, I take that you're new here?"
A grin slipped onto my lips and informed her; "I'm Layla, and yes I am new here" She abruptly stopped walking, shock passing over her face before she spoke quickly her tone thick with something unidentifiable; "Don't tell me you're the daughter of Angelina and Mark Davis" I laughed awkwardly before replying with a small grin, "Yeah, that's me." Cecelia turned her face away, facing forward, a small frown playing on her lips.
"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked, she quickly looked back to me with a wide smile, pearly teeth gleaming. "Oh, it's nothing, just coming back from winter break, you know?" I nodded, satisfied with her answer.
"It's good you came after winter break, everyone gets new classes and it's like the first day" she assured me.
"Yeah, I guess" I muttered distractedly.
Standing side by side, I realized how much we contrasted each other. Cecelia had caramel-colored hair, cascading in silky straight tresses ending mid-back, opposite to my waist length midnight-black wavy hair. She had cat-like eyes resembling deep pools of chocolate, so dark you could get lost in them, a contrast to my green large doe-like eyes. Her skin was smooth and a peachy light tone, resembling a doll. On the other hand, mine was soft and a golden-tan, naturally.
However, our conversation flowed naturally as we made our way to our lockers. While walking, we had compared schedules. Luckily, Cecelia and I share a couple of our afternoon classes together.
Cecelia groaned; "We're not in the same home room or any other morning class", she pointed out
She gestured her thumb towards the right of the large hallway "Your's is that way" she paused, looking at my schedule, "Room 218"
I thanked her, we exchanged a quick goodbye and I headed off in what I hoped was the right direction.
I got to the right door, after a couple turns down the large hallway. I reached for the door knob, planning to bolt in quickly, but simultaneously someone pulled the doorknob forcefully from inside the classroom; causing me to lose my balance and fall face-first, my arms flailing wildly for something to grip and my thick hair momentarily obscuring my sight.
I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for the impact, that hit me in the form of a plush white rug. I let out a sigh of relief, content that all my ribs were still intact. I stood up quickly, dusting myself off and took a look around the room.
Thankfully, not many had noticed my not-so graceful fall. I turned my head, ready to shoot daggers at the ill-mannered person who hadn't even tried to help me. Staring right back at me, emotionless, was a tall, popular-looking boy.
"Sorry!" he yelled over his shoulder, not sounding apologetic at all, before walking back to his friends. Involuntary, my lips curled up to a sneer at his dull excuse of an apology.
"You did that on purpose, you didn't even need to leave the room, you asshole!" I blurted out, my anger getting the best of me. At Lakewood, I always had a composed attitude, my words sickly sweet or dripping with venom. I never raised my voice, rather letting them be soft, cruel and menacing. However, that Layla seemed to be long gone. Now my decisions were rash, my anger no longer composed.
Nonetheless, I knew she would be back soon enough. I needed that stoic attitude if I wanted to survive senior year at NorthView.
The boy glanced back at me, widening his eyes in shock before he snickered and went back to conversing with his large group of friends, ignoring me. I narrowed my eyes at his retreating figure, ready to go give him a piece of mind when the bell rang.
Damn you stupid bell!
I rushed deeper into the classroom and took the last seat in the front row, the only seat left. The room was modern, each desk equipped with the newest Apple MacBooks and a large smart-board on the wall. The desks were sleek and matte white tables, opposite to most schools' small wooden desks. I was so occupied with my thoughts, I almost forgot about my fall, almost.
After the bell rang, the teacher, a middle aged woman with long dark hair and glasses too big for her face, stood up and clapped her hands.
With her thickly framed glasses perched on her nose and her ebony colored frizzy, messy mane, I could have sworn she was the wicked witch of the west. On the board, behind her, read; "Mrs.Thorn"
The name matched her perfectly
She clapped her hands again, making sure everyone was listening, before she began; "Hello class, I'm Mrs.Thorn and this will be your home room class for the semester!" A couple laughs and snickers erupted around the room, surely because of her name, making Mrs.Thorn furrow her brows in anger.
Nonetheless, she continued; "Everyone, Adam has something he wants to pass out to you all" she stated with a gravelly voice and a now bored tone, glancing over to one of the large groups in the back.
She settled back in her oversized armchair right after and dived back into her book. I quickly did a double take, and it was that boy, the one that caused my fall, purposefully, might I add.
This school year was already off to a horrendous start.
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