Author note: sorry the prologue was so short! I wanted it to be a cliff hanger type thingy. Most of my other chapters should be longer, I promise. Oh and REALLY sorry that this took so long to update, my bad :/
Katniss212: Thank you so much! Hmm I'd like to hear more about this Jackie girl, her writing must be pretty good! Thanks about the stuff you said about my oc ( her name is Sophia), I promise you'll be seeing WAYY more of her
CHAPTER ONE
A NEW FACE
As soon as students started pouring out of the classrooms I dropped my books. Go figure. They scattered throughout the hall and most of the kids swerved to avoid them or just walked right over them and continued to talk to their friends.
I was pissed, but I did find it a bit amusing that I had so many papers in my binder and I hadn't even started class yet. I was so intent on picking up all of my things that I almost didn't feel the zap of electricity when someone's creamy pale skin brushed against my own.
"You need any help?" a masculine voice asked smoothly, already gathering up papers.
"No, go away," I replied in what I hope was a hiss. The voice just laughed, adding to my unease. I didn't lift my eyes to meet his; instead I looked at my scuffed up black converse high tops, silently reminding myself that I needed to buy new shoes.
For a fraction of a second I was glad that I had grown my hair out, and by hiding behind its curtain he couldn't see the tinge of blush creeping into my cheeks.
I prayed that he wouldn't continue; that he'd just stand up and walk to his next class, but of course that didn't happen. "You're new here, aren't you," I grimaced when I noted that his words were more of a statement rather than a question.
"Yeah," I said, hoping he would let it drop.
"Well what class do you have next?" he asked, inquisitive.
"English, with Ms. Kwan," I was surprised that I remembered.
"Me too!" he said, enthusiasm hinted in his otherwise fluid voice. "You must be a junior too, hey I'll save you a seat," his invitation seemed friendly enough.
"Okay," I said stupidly. Oh crap, I thought as I was sure that he was walking away. I realized that I hadn't seen his face. I looked up hesitantly and saw a tall blonde boy walking in the opposite direction. At least I know his hair color, I reminisced, hoping that this small fact would somehow bring me comfort.
I walked ungracefully into the girl's bathroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror. The girl that stared back at me looked different somehow.
Her light blonde hair was somewhat disheveled, but in the way that it looked cute, not messy. Her green eyes were wide and innocent, rimmed expertly with coffee brown eyeliner and dusted with gold shimmer powder. The blush on her cheeks reminded me of the recent hallway confrontation, and also that I needed to get to class.
As I was almost running in haste to make it before the final bell rang, I mentally cursed myself for acting so giddy around that boy. I had sworn off boys, I made that promise to myself and I was going to try not to break it.
I sprinted into the classroom with barely a second to spare. I sighed in relief when I heard the bell ring five seconds later. Thank god for this tiny miracle, I thought.
"Miss Rivers, how nice of you to grace us with your presence today. Now please, take a seat," an oriental woman in her forties snarled with a flourish of her arms. In my head I imagined her as a snake with slit-like eyes and a forked tongue.
I was faced with another dilemma when I recalled that I had absolutely no idea what my hallway savior looked like. With my luck he was probably some pervert who was just looking for a piece of ass.
"Over here," an almost inaudible voice whispered. I swung my head in the direction that the words came from and found myself looking at someone who was much different than the picture my mind had painted.
The first thing that I noticed about him was his eyes. They were sapphire, but held a sort of fire, like the kind made with driftwood on the beach, pale and burning with sharp intensity. His hair was pale blonde, grown out so that the tips of his bangs grazed his eyelashes. I could already see myself falling for him' I could picture him kissing me tenderly or holding me in the sanctuary of his arms when I was upset. I knew at that very second that this wouldn't end well.
I sat down warily as I was assessing him, paying no attention to Kwan's 'riveting' lecture on Shakespeare's works; I already knew most of them anyway. He smiled somewhat unsurely, and that's when I noticed that I was staring at him; sizing him up. I had a tendency to do that, it was unattractive and a bad habit, but things like that almost never change. I grinned back, however uncomfortable I was beneath the surface.
"I'm Peter," he whispered. I felt intoxicated, overwhelmed, and sick.
"I'm Sophia," I replied.
"And you both have detention," spat Ms. Kwan, who suddenly appeared right next to us, almost making me jump out of my seat. "This room, after school, two hours, doing nothing," she narrowed her eyes and stalked in a cat like gait back to her position at the front of the class, somehow satisfied that she'd taken the liberty to make my life just that much more miserable. I sighed.
"Well," Peter mumbled. "At least she won't be there."
"Huh," I answered, confused. At most of my old schools there was always a teacher in the room when you had detention, staring you down with old, tired eyes.
"None of the teachers ever actually stay for detention. Hatzilakos is in her office, but basically we have the whole school to ourselves," his eyes glinted mischievously as he spoke the words. Oh, so he was one of those people. Well not everyone could be perfect, and at least that meant that I probably wouldn't get involved with him.
After the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Peter walked up to me.
"I guess I'll see you later detention buddy," He grinned and headed off for his next class in the opposite direction from mine. A little part of me deflated when I realized that the next forty five minutes of my time wouldn't be with him. Mentally, I should have slapped myself for being so thoughtless. No boys Sophia, I scolded myself. Not after what happened.
I had Simpson's class next, it was some sort of computer technology thing, I think. I ignored most of what was said, but Mr. Simpson seemed nice enough anyway. I felt as if I couldn't wait to get up and go to lunch, and for that I thought myself very foolish.
Might as well eat in the bathroom or something, I thought, glancing at all of the full tables. There was one, though, in the corner, that was completely empty. I stumbled over to it without a second thought, slapping my lunch tray down on the hard plastic surface and attracting the attention of everyone in the room. Jesus, I hate being the new kid.
I picked numbly at my cold hot dog, every so often eating a little bit of bread. The meat was disgusting looking; school food was probably the main reason that I had become a vegetarian, since it was so inedible. I sighed, I really thought that my eating disorder would go away, on account of all the other problems, but it was still here, potent as ever.
Since I wasn't going to eat it anyway, I pushed the tray halfway across the table and fished a worn looking book out of my messenger bag. It was a Harry Potter book, weird as it was; they had always been my comfort ready, sort of like how some people have comfort foods or whatever. Not that I could ever even have ten minutes to myself, but I was sort of hoping that I could spend the lunch hour sulking in peace. I was only a little pissed when I figured out that I was wrong, though. I crave male company much more than I should.
"Hey Sophia," Peter said, sliding into the empty chair beside me. I began to attempt a smile, but I wasn't really in the mood for pretending, so I just looked back at my book, trying to focus on the words.
"So where did you move from, anyway?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"New York," I said too quickly. It was the easiest answer. No one paid much attention to people who came from large backgrounds, I think.
"Cool, so why did you move to Canada? Isn't it like, supposed to be really awesome there or something?" he looked up at me through his spiky boy lashes, and my heart skipped a beat unintentionally.
"Dunno," I shrugged my shoulders meaninglessly. "I guess I just needed a change of pace," it wasn't exactly a lie, just not the whole truth.
"Kay," was all Peter said. We sat in silence for the next few minutes until the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. It was strange, how I wanted to know this person, I had never really thought of guys like that before. To them I was the prize, the girl paraded around on their arms. To me they were all temporary, like seasons or holidays.
I used to be really wild, mostly when it came to partying. At my old schools I had been at every party that there was, trying to drown myself in the joy and carelessness of other people. It rarely worked. Partying was my drug, my escape. It allowed me to get away from my own problems, even if it only was for a few short hours. I didn't care that I only felt worse afterwards, I was fairly accustomed to disappointment.
Unfortunately, another thing that I was accustomed to was getting what I wanted. And I wanted Peter. I was very sure of that. I wanted him to hold me in an embrace, to tell me that I was beautiful. I figured, after all that had happened to me, I at least deserved to have someone tell me that I was beautiful.
But he would probably loose interest in me, eventually. I was just a new toy, the shiny plaything that just arrived. In a few weeks time my luster would dull and I would fade into the background. That was what was supposed to happen, though, the fading away. That was what I wanted, wasn't it? To blend in with all the others. If it was, why did it feel so wrong?
