India's POV
I took the lighter off the strange orange haired idiot and walked off.
"Hey, that's my lighter!" he nagged at me, jogging after me.
"Well, it looks like it's mine now," I puffed smoke in his face. Now who's smirking?
"Fine. Keep it. I have another anyway." he rolled his eyes. Before I could get another word in edgeways, he reached into my bag and pulled out my spare box of cigarettes, and lit one.
"Eyy, thats my cigarette, you tosser!" I tried grabbing it back but he puffed the smoke in my face and said exactly what I did only a few moments ago.
"Well, looks like its mine now."
I just laughed and we sat there in a comfortable silence, puffing away at our fags until he decided to speak up.
"So whats your name then?"
"India Keegan, and yourself?" I said, refusing to look at him.
"Ahh new kid. I'm Michael Clifford and I want you to know if you think your tough, you should think again, because you've entered my territory now." he stood up and threw his cigarette stub at my feet.
I laughed, and grabbed his collar of his shirt and punch his jaw.
"Dont talk to me like I'm some piece of shit, Clifford. Look in the mirror and then come and tell me who's territory it is now." I throw him to the floor and walk away around the corner, where I check my timetable. Math. Eugh.
*****
Walking into the classroom was slightly embarrassing. All eyes looked at me.
"Ahh, you must the new student. Name?" my Math teacher barked.
"Why should I tell you?" I asked, walking to the back of the class and perching at a desk on my own. Everybody's eyes were still on me.
"For the register, dear." clear irritation, dripping from every word.
"India Keegan." a voice said.
Everyone turned their heads to the door, which felt nice, because I wasn't the center of attention anymore. However, the principle was stood at the door.
"Could you come to my office at lunch, please?" he asked, walking off before I had a chance to reply.
I just rolled my eyes in response.
Later on, the teacher was typing something on his computer and all the students were just on their phones; except the nerdy ones who were actually doing work.
Looking around the room, there was a boy who caught my eye instantly. Oh my. Perfectly styled blonde hair stood in a quiff, great style in clothes, piercing blue eyes much like myself, the smile that would melt a girls heart and --
"I wouldn't sit there if I was you," a small voice said, rudely interrupting my dreamy thoughts (that were a little too dreamy, even for me).
"Oh yeah? Why's that?" I shot back.
"It's Michael Clifford's seat." she replied, looking around cautiously.
"Michael Clifford can go fuck himself." her eyes widened at my words, before trailing to the door.
And there the famous Michael Clifford was, red faced and storming over to me.
"Hello stranger! Long time, no see! How very nice to see you again!" I grinned, standing up and patting his shoulder.
"Quit being a bitch and get out of my seat," he spat, pushing me.
I was enranged with anger. How dare he treat me like this.
"Don't make me say it twice. MOVE!" he bellowed for the whole damn world to hear.
"I'm not gonna move so find somewhere else to sit." I said, kicking up my feet and looking at the teacher.
Michael's phone dinged in his pocket and he checked it.
His face screwed up like a pug before regaining it's natural (ugly) glare.
Michael then turned around to look at the teacher.
"Fine. I'll find a better seat outside." he shouted.
He is hiding something and I want to know what. He dashed out of the room before Mr Math Teacher could say anything. I was so confused but I ran after him, carelessly ignoring the teacher's yells. After running out of the building, I catch him running behind the bike sheds. A clear druggie spot.
"Oi Clifford! Why did you run off?" I panted.
"India? You need to go, bitch." Even if he did call me a bitch, he told me I needed to go in the same sentence, which was in fact coated in worry.
"No, you fecking bell end! Not until you tell me what the actual shit is going on!" Suddenly, I felt a pair of cold hands on my shoulders.
I turned to see a man.
An older man.
A perv is what I saw.
"Bugger." Michael cried.
