The first day of school, the same as any other. My name is Chanthalia Worthington-Smythe. Yes, that Chanthalia Worthington-Smythe, daughter of Darwin Worthington and Violetta Smythe, the computer tycoons. Maybe it's a little egotistical of me to assume that you might know who I am, or even my parents. As far as business goes, they prefer to stay behind the scenes, manipulating every aspect of their empire through sycophant intermediaries. Including me. I didn't see my parents much growing up. They were always away on business. I've grown up with only my nanny, Shari, and my tutor, Bleu, for company. But now I start high school. Yes, I think it's fair to say this day will be like no other.
I sat thinking in the backseat of Shari's car as she drove me to school, my glittery blue bubble skirt pooled around me. I had my own car already, but Mom and Dad insisted I be driven around. It's nice that they think of me, but I just can't understand them sometimes. They're so hard to deal with and they make my life an utter mess. Most of the time, I wish I were a normal teenager. After hearing stories from Shari and Bleu about their school days, I'm terrified that I'll be ostracized for being too rich or too pretty (not that I think I am).
I opened the door, and took a deep breath.
"Don't you worry about a thing," said Shari, before taking a sip from her low fat frappucino and applying her lipstick. "You'll do great!"
"You have to say that," I moaned. I grabbed my backpack and got out of the car, aware of the momentary compression that made my breasts look even more cartoonishly large. I hate having large breasts. They make people stare at me and my bras are always too small.
I looked over the other kids walking through the main gate of the school. There was the usual mix, goths, preps, jocks. There were even some cute boys. I blushed and turned away when a group of them walked by. They would never like me. I was too thin, too tall, and way too clumsy. I breathed deeply and braced myself, walking towards the gates. "Bye honey!" Shari said, before speeding away in her black Escalade. I gave a week wave. School is going to be hell.
I was as nervous as was humanly possible. When I'm nervous, I tend to get a little... trigger happy. Or fan happy. I lived in Japan from ages 0 - 12, and my parents figured that, while I was there, I might as well get to know the local culture. In addition to learning Japanese, my parents bought me the best martial arts training that money can buy. As a gift for my black belt ceremony, my sensei gave me an pair of beautiful authentic tessen, or Japanese war fans. They are pearly blue, like my eyes. I carry them with me at all times, just to be safe.
Though, at that moment, I wasn't very safe, at least to the others around me. I felt a presence behind me and whirled around while flicking open my fans. I heard a body hit the ground and I felt myself burn with embarrassment as I realized who I hit. He was a boy, but not just any boy. He was the cutest boy I'd ever seen! His copper brown hair was perfectly messy and his gold eyes were wide in confusion as he looked up at me. I hid my face demurely behind my fans and squeaked. I was so embarrassed.
He looked up at me, not with anger, but with a look I was pretty sure was astonishment.
"Wow! Great technique. I've never seen someone use a tessen like that," he said, jumping spryly to his feet. "That might even leave a mark."
I was mortified with myself. To nervous to speak, all I managed was a little "Eh... eh."
"What's your name?" He asked, smiling a golden smile right in my direction. "I'm Xander Brockport."
"Cha-Cha-Chanthalia. But you can call me Chance for short," I said, managing a tiny smile.
"Well, Chance, my dad and I run a martial arts studio. Why don't drop by some time? I could show you a few of my moves," he said. He smiled again, and I almost melted.
"Alright..." He walked to class. Wow.
I sat in homeroom, completely dazed. How could it be that they cutest boy in school could have smiled at me, at klutzy Chanthalia Worthington-Smythe? I was glowing, but nervous. Kids would talk about this, and if what I heard about high school was true, talking was never good. I brushed my silky, raven black hair out of my eyes and sighed. Only half an hour into high school and my life was already so difficult and complicated.
