Good Girls Are Bad Girls

1

My black Doc Martins squeaked along the shiny corridor as nervous and awkward faces rushed past me, running to their next studies and lessons. Blurs of people pushed into me, nudging me over to each side of the busy hallway, not even a smile or apology escaping their mouths. As I came to my English classroom, I peered into the glass window, not looking forward to being stuck in a stuffy classroom full of arrogant college students. I walked in, quietly walking to my seat in the corner of the room, feeling the judgemental eyes of the other pupils drill into the back of my head. I hated college. I hated college so fucking much. It was full of annoying people who were wanting to achieve their massive dreams but not even trying. All they cared about was going out partying and becoming deeply intoxicated in strong alcahol. I felt like the only student who was there to try and become the person they wanted to become. I felt like the only student who was trying their hardest to get somewhere in life. Other people wanted it, they just didn't work for it. There were some people who were motivated enough to try to succeed but they didn't really speak to me. They just kept their snotty remarks to each other and behind my back and stuck their noses in the air. Not only do I hate college for the unhygenic canteen and dirty showers, but also for all the people in it. But, I've only got a few more years left until I can go out into the world and do my thing. I won't need to even assosciate with people like there are in my college!

As I plopped down into my seat, I got out my books and notepad. My eyes stared up to the teacher at the front of the classroom who pointed his fingers everywhere and always wandered off topic.

“Ooh! I almost forgot! I should do the register!”, he squealed excitedly, stopping his whole lecture just to tick off some names on a list.

Sometimes college was just like high school in all its bore, yet it wasn't as dramatic. Some people had actually learned to grow up.

“Michael Clifford”, the teacher called out as he narrowed his eyes at the name on the register list.

“Yup”, spoke a calm voice, popping the 'p' as a hand shot up.

“Ah, you're new here aren't you?”, Mr. Lesley asked politely.

The scruffy boy in the corner of the classroom nodded.

“You probably have no idea what I'm lecturing the class about!”, Mr. Lesley spoke concerned, his posh English accent shining through.

Michael shrugged casually, he seemed like your typical burn-out who would get kicked out of college by next week.

“If you go and sit with Rose at the back there, I'm sure she can help you out. She's our best student you see”, the annoying teacher said.

I sighed. Being stuck with someone like this new kid didn't seem fun at all. He'd probably be a lazy jerk who would get me to do all his work, someone I didn't want anything to do with really.

“Sir, do I have to?”, I spoke up, making every head turn to me.

“Please Rose, you need to be more welcoming to new students here. Also, I think you'll be a huge help to Michael”, Mr. Lesley told me sternly.

Michael picked his scruffy bag up and wandered towards me. I couldn't help but let my eyes goggle at him. His bleached blonde hair was a scruffy mess and he had a black eyebrow piercing, his face was as pale as his hair and his over-sized dark green plaid shirt looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a week. His ripped black skinny jeans let one knee poke out and his wrists were masked with black rubber bands with white and red words tattooed across them.

“It's rude to stare”, he muttered as he sat down next to me, a smirk across his mouth.

I felt my cheeks heat up as Michael slouched down into the seat. Everyone else was beginning to work, sharing books and notepads between them. All that was between Michael and I was an awkward silence.

“Sooo.. you gonna teach me how to do this shit?”, he spoke up, nudging his chair closer to me.

“Oh, so you actually want to work? Or do you just want me to do all the work for you?”, I replied smartly.

The boy chuckled.

“I'm guessing you already don't like me?”, he said, his light green eyes gazing at my own that stayed staring at the blackboard.

“I'd prefer not to waste my time with people like you”, I replied, beginning to jot down what was on the board.

“Well, I'd prefer not to waste my time with people like you as well. I don't really mix with good girls who think they're better than everyone else and never have fun.”, Michael told me sternly, his words actually hurting me.

“I'm not a good girl”, I shrugged off.

“Ah.. no one is. Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught”, he told me as he placed a hand gently on my thigh.

“Get off”, I slapped his hand away, his clever words filling my brain.

Michael laughed and pushed a hand through his birds nest-like hair. I caught a look at his rubber bands that covered his wrists, they all had names scruffily written on them. I could see names such as; 'Blink 182', 'Pierce the Veil', 'Green Day' and 'All Time Low'. At least he liked decent music.
“Right, let's get to work”, I sighed, looking at Mr. Lesley who was staring at me with a frown.

“Okay Miss”, Michael cooed childishly, treating me like a teacher.

“Don't call me 'Miss'”, I replied sourly.

“Sorry. Okay Rose”, he smirked.

“Whatever, just copy my notes”, I told him as I pushed a few strands of hair behind my ear.

I started writing down things from the big blackboard that was displayed at the front of the classroom, plugging in my headphones so I could block out any words that slipped from the boy's mouth. I bopped my head along to 'Backseat Serenade by All Time Low' and tapped my foot. I could feel Michael staring at me fascinated. I rolled my eyes and took the plugs out from my ears.

“It's rude to stare”, I told him, raising my eyebrows.

“You have freckles”, was all he replied as he continued scanning my face.

“Fuck off”, I murmered, hiding my face with my hand.

“What's wrong with freckles?”, he asked confused.

“Everything. I fucking hate them. Now, go back to work”, I replied restlessly, getting tired of his stupidity.

“I think they're quite beautiful”, he said gently as he stared down at his paper and took his pen in his hand.

I shook my head and tried to ignore his kind words as I let my music blare into my ears. Maybe this Michael boy wasn't as bad as he seemed.