Chapter 1
Piper
New schools are so boring. They are either ahead or behind what you where learning in you last school and by the time you catch up my dad would probably move again. Dad, being an international celebrity, has to keep moving every time he gets offered a job. This happens like every single freaking semester! Due to the fact that my dad can't seem to stay put I have no actual grades and no friends.
Moving sucks ass.
That's why today, when my dad told me he would be staying at New York for at least until I graduated high school, I started celebrating. Of course that reason was because he was starting a talk show but you can't be picky when you have a multi-millionaire dad who frequently gets mobbed by masses of woman. Masses of screaming, clawing, crazy women. I'm shuddering just thinking about it.
So that, my friends, is why I am standing outside New York High (A/N: Couldn't think of anything better. Ideas?) wishing that this year will be different and I'll make friends and grades. Especially with collage coming up.
New York High is a huge, metal, building with a grass lawn and a football field out back. Inside it's even cooler. It's huge too, and has arching ceilings made of marble and glass, the tile is white marble, and doors are huge, maple, double doors. The place is full of kids around my age milling around and entering classrooms. There's a start of shiny metal lockers at the far end and the hall turns to the right; towards, I suspect, more gleaming lockers and classrooms. To my right of this hall though is the cafeteria, well more like a theater and a dining room, and to my left: the main office. Good old main office.
While I walk over and swing of the glass doors I can help thinking who funded this place? Oh no. Not-
"Well, if it isn't Piper McLean! You do your dad was the one who funded this all!" says the woman at the front desk and she gets up at shakes my hand. Everyone in the office turns to stare at me. Okaaay… escape plan A. Ask for schedule and get the hell out.
"Uh-yeah. Um can I have my schedule now? I need to, erm, get to class," I say. And she nods and walks back to her desk. She flips open a file already on her desk and gives me two slips of paper.
"Here's your schedule and on the other piece of paper is you locker number and combination," She hands them to me and I nod. The start to walk fast out towards the door.
"Oh and Piper," the woman says and I turn. She gives me a smile, "Have a nice day."
"You too," I say and try to smile back but according to the paper I'm holding I'm already late.
Classes at NYH (New York High according to my 2 period Health teacher) aren't that different and surprising seem to take up where I left off. The teachers try to bend you in to what they are teaching and they're really seemed to want help. But half the time I busy scribbling notes and the other half trying to avoid stares.
Its 4th period lunch and I'm not hungry, since the last school I went to I had 6th period lunch. There were only 7 periods in the day. They really try to starve you sometimes, schools. So I head to the library and say hi to the librarian. She's a nice young blond lady who insists I call her Mary Kay. I get a library card; check out the 9th Harry Potter book and (making sure no one was watching) climb a bookcase and swing myself up to a beam that connects the from one end of the library to another fully intending to read for the next hour of lunch. Since the library shares the ceiling with another room I get a clear view of what's happening in the next room. It's a group of five boys who are setting up instruments, and joking around. I can hear clearly what they are saying.
"Smooth, what you did the other day Jason." Says a boy with black hair and pale skin to a blond haired one with a tan. I can't see their faces, I'm up too high. The black haired boy continues,
"Really turned Reyna on, falling at her feet," He cracks up and the blond one punches him. All the other boys laugh too and the blond seems to blush.
"Shut up," Blond says and pulls a wicked blue electric guitar from its case. He tunes it carefully while everyone else gets ready. I try to ignore them but it's impossible as the finish getting set up and the blond, who is apparently the lead singer, starts to sing. He has an amazing voice and I stop reading to listen. There none of the others start to play until he nods and they begin adding to the climax. I wait for the top note, probably from blonde's guitar and when it happens I wince and almost fall off. Everyone else stops to and groans and the blond starts fiddling with the tuning pegs.
"All that- for nothing," says a curly haired one playing keyboards.
"What's up Jason?" a fair haired on asks. He's holding a guitar to and I think its bass. Blond plays a quick riff and I cover my ears again. The G string, you idiot, the G string. I chant slowly in my head. But he doesn't get it and I sigh and place my book on the beam then swing of the beam and land on the frame of the wall.
"G," I say and it startles them. They look around wildly and I sigh. "Up here," they look up at where I'm sitting, dangling my legs.
"What?" The fair haired on asks and tilts his head up farther to look at me.
"G, that the string that's out of tune in friends guitar," I point at blond and smirk. "Figured you would know that." Blond laughs.
"You thought I didn't?" he asks smirking.
"Sorry," I smile sweetly, "You kept trying to fix the D string and I know it looks like the G string. It not sweetheart," His friends laugh and he glares.
"Aren't you going to fix it?" I ask.
"Why don't you?" He asks. I sigh and jump down so I'm standing on the level as they are when I'm eye-to-eye with him (not really he's just a little bit taller than me) I notice he cute. Okay fine hot. But that's all you'll get from me. He has blue eyes and a scar on his lip and I offer a hand.
"Give it to me," I say.
"Why would I ever do that?"He asks haughty. I sigh, exasperated.
"You just ask me to fix it."
"I was being sarcastic," he says rolling his eyes.
"Here's a tip: Next time use a sarcastic tone of voice. You don't actually want people to believe you when you are sarcastic. Therefore, since I believed you, you weren't being sarcastic. Now hand it over," I say and raise an eyebrow.
"The hot girl has a point," The pale, black haired on says.
"Thank you," I say as blond hands me his guitar reluctantly. I play the string turn the peg then riff.
"Told you," I say smugly and hand it back. He rolls his eyes and before I can leave he asks.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Piper," I say jumping on tittering boxes and cases to reach the top of the wall.
"Like the plane?" He asks snorting.
"No. Like the name you dimwit," I say before vaulting over frame of the wall and landing in the library.