She was done.
She had it. And then she lost it.
Only her, careless extraordinare, could happen to lose her socks the night before her first day of school or what she liked to call: Pathetic Attempt From Father For Me To Have A Social Life Take Four.
Scrunching up her nose, she looked in the mirror. She wasn't horribly unattractive. Just a bit homely, unlike her mother who had been well-known for her simplistic beauty. The gene pool wasn't on her side; she had obtained her mother's soft face, dainty feet and hands – All well and great. But she achieved her father's ghastly pale pigment or lack there off. Her complexion wasn't as smooth, and her hips were wider due to her father's strong, manly self.
'Wide hips are good for bearing children, dear,' her nanny had told her after she had her midlife crisis at the age of thirteen. This didn't help much, albeit it was a nice try. Of course, all young daughters would love to go to their father for encouragement and love; her father told her he would schedule her in sometime next week.
It has been a year since they last had a heart to heart.
Not that she was complaining. She enjoyed her solitude. Her younger sister was giving her father a run for his money, and he had no time to pry into his eldest daughter's life – again in this case, or lack there of.
"Until now, conveniently," she mumbled, carelessly tossing a shoe into a pile of other shoes. All brown or black designer labels with nothing but the word 'neutral' screaming from the mountain of shoes. Lifting up a pair of Jimmy Choo black, silk ballet flats, she believed these would be the most accepting out of the mound. Placing them next to her green plaid skirt, she sighed. She looked ghastly in green. She let the short-sleeved, button up shirt hang on so a maid could iron it for tomorrow, she let the short tie of the same green lay beside it.
Everything was almost in order. Almost.
"Where are those socks?" Her voice was soft, just like the rest of her. For the life of her, she couldn't raise her voice. She had a quiet, demure to her. Shouting was like talking in a normal level of sound. She let the glasses on her face slide down the bridge of her nose. Pushing up the silver wire frames, she plopped down on her 400 hundred count bed sheets, long black hair splashing on the sheets of white. Letting her eyes open, she sighed. "I hate private school education."
Home schooling was the best way to go, she believed. Less stress than what she was feeling right now. Public school was out of the question, due to her father being an "important man". Private school was so it would surely cure this 'socio phobia' her father's psychiatrist had claimed upon her soul. Talk about a death sentence.
Opening her journal(for diary was too unrealistic for her tastes) to a fresh page, she began to write:
The Pros and Cons of Private School
Pros:
Obviously None.
Cons:
Stuck up rich kids
Peer Pressure
Tacky uniforms
Those damn socks
She sighed, not nearly content with her lists. There were millions upon millions of reasons why private school was wrong for her. The words were just not coming out of her ball-point pen. Frustrated she slammed the journal tightly together, so the pages smoothed together. There was no happenstance from going to school. She liked her privacy. She liked her Prada, Gucci, and other home-made skirts, tops, and bags from penniless countries like Guatemala and Peru. She hated talking to people. She wasn't a people-person. Was that so wrong? She had a hard time enough with girls teasing her because of her awkward shape, and because she wasn't a sick, sized 2. Her opaque eyes, a trait passed from generation to generation, caused her to hear the most idiotic blind jokes a sane person can stomach.
This school wasn't going to be much different.
She picked up the brochure that her father had conveniently kept placing on her dresser.
'Konoha Academy for the Gifted'
A place for talented students to collaborate together on a social level and educational level. Many different resources for the young mind...blah,blah, blah.'
She wouldn't be surprised if her first day would hearing about whose "daddy" had more money in the bank. Or whose trust fund would be larger(which meant more money for alcohol come those endearing college years).
Contemplating the action of moving to Africa and stay with Ethiopian children, she wondered if she could just do that.
Surely, Ethiopian children would die to have some company from an heiress who just wanted some friends.
"I could go back to my motherland." She deadpanned as she looked at her bed. To the corner were knee-high socks. "Agh!" Her cry couldn't be heard, but the loud thumping on the wall could be.
Surely, Ethiopian children could deal with a spoiled, homely, lack of vision, loner. Surely.
Having everything laid out for the exciting day, she let herself fall into a unsettling slumber filled with emaciated, African children and her Coach purse coming alive to kill her soul.
The day was bright, the birds were chirping, and she found it most annoying. She got ready, brushed her teeth, and put her hair up in a proper bun. Slipping into her adored flats, she grabbed her Chanel tote and beelined to the door. Ignoring the calls from her maid to have a wonderful day, she climbed into her car quite carelessly.
Her iPod was out and ready for the action of the ten minute drive to school. She turned on the lovely Sufjan and glided out the driveway, headed towards her new place of torture, rivaling with the Spanish Inquisition.
Arriving a bit early, she found the closest parking spot she could. Taking no time to stop and smell any infectious plants that may have been imported from South America, she brushed passed the crowding student body and found herself lost in the midst of a large, grandeur hallway. Sighing, she shook her head, and looked around hopelessly for some help. There were two girls giggling, one a tall blonde and the other a short, pink haired female. She was going to walk towards them when a teacher ushered her along.
"Oh, Hyuuga-sama. I'm so pleasured to have you gracing Konoha Academy. We are looking so forward to...blah. Blah. Blahing blah, blah blah." She stared straight ahead, being guided like a lost sheep to the headmaster's office. "Is that fine, Hyuuga-sama?"
'Shit.'
The young girl just nodded to make the eccentric helper happy. She reached the office and was suddenly jerked before she could go in.
"Hyuuga-sama, I already told you Tsunade-sama was out for her morning outing," the dark haired woman clacked her heels across the floor and handed her a schedule. "You said that you would be fine with just going into your classes without the proper introduction." She smiled and nodded her head at the Hyuuga as pale eyes weakened slightly. Pushing up her glasses, she was again ushered around not knowing where she was.
Arriving to classroom, she took a deep breath; not wanting to go in any further.
Too late.
"Class, this is Hyuuga Hinata. She will be your new student, so please make this educational adventure happy for the heiress of a multi billion dollar company."
Hinata whipped her head around. What did she just say? Was it proper to tell new students how much your dear papa makes in a year? What was this school on?
She took her seat next to a sleeping male and a brooding male. She relaxed; at least they weren't male. Wait...what? She whipped her head to do a double take.
"Oh kami..." she mumbled sinking down lower into her chair. 'Why is the chair as far as I can go?'
Questions upon questions entered Hinata's mind; sadly, none of them had an answer.
"Could this day get any worse?" She blinked in surprise for the man to her right was staring at her with a malicious look upon his face. He looked angry but very, very handsome.
"Um...par-pardon?" Her voice squeaked quietly as she blinked a few times to let her vision go back from it's euphoric state.
"You." His eyes, charcoal black, narrowed in a glare at her. "Don't speak to me; Don't look at me; Don't write stupid confessions to me. Got it?"
She almost let her jaw drop. 'You got to be kidding me!' She nodded quietly and turned about face. Just then she felt her arm become slightly wet. To her left was sure enough the other male, only drooling quite profusely. It began to pool around her arm. 'Oh kami...'
Notes for First Period:
Buy tissues to wipe up excess saliva rather than use Hermes scarf
Don't talk/breathe/blink around the handsome piece of cake of a man
(Though she couldn't even if she wanted to)
Buy a one way ticket to Ethiopia immediately
Get the hell out of here
A/N – Well, I'm done with the first chapter. Yay. Just a small project I'm doing. If interested in hearing more about Hinata's high school life, review, review, review!
And I promise it won't be another unoriginal HS life drama...thing. It will have depth! It will just take some time.
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own and never will. This is the first and last time I will mention it. Thank you.
