Location (except the city name and shit), stores, and school names are fiction and made up.
Chapter Seventeen: "Flawless Canadians."
MONDAY.
Probably the worst day in existence. Everyone hates it and wishes it would disappear, but then that would make Tuesday into Monday, and Wednesday into Monday, all the way up to Friday and Saturday, and let's be honest: everyone wishes everyday were Friday or Saturday. Last day of classes, first day of hangovers, and the first day of being able to sleep in with no alarms blaring off.
Saturday is just the same, except it's better.
Today's my first day of school.
Luckily for me, my eye is all healed up and it's just me and my bruised thigh and cast. Though my bruises are now a light brown with a green-yellow tinge, they're a lot better than a few days ago when it was still black and purple.
I'm awake before my alarm goes off as per usual, so I turn it off before it can start and lay in my uncomfortable bed, praying that the mattress will swallow me whole from my existence on earth.
"Hey! Cupcake! You up?"
"Shut up, Liam." I growl.
I'm not a morning person, if you hadn't noticed.
"Yeah, mom, she's up!" I hear him yell.
Okay, Brooklyn, just don't speak, and I know you speak Spanish out of nervousness, so just don't say anything, and if you have to, be aware of it so you can at least try to blend in.
Shit, I am screwed.
It takes me ten minutes to get ready, and I'm walking down the stairs in ankle converse and light wash skinny jeans with a blank white hoodie. It's a comfortable outfit, but it doesn't show my whole girly girl style. I definitely have girly attire, but like hell I would wear anything of the sort without having any hint that girly fashion exists at this school.
Wanna know how knowledgeable I am?
I have no idea what this school's name is.
I have a Nike bag I would use for sports, so I throw everything I'll need for the day inside it, and just hold a binder. Walking downstairs, everyone is at the table once again, and I read the clock to see that it's only 6:30 a.m.
"What time do I have to leave?" I ask, tossing my bag at my feet as I take a seat beside Louis. Lucas is absent from the table, so I assume he's sleeping still considering his school probably starts later than ours.
"Bus comes at seven thirty." Lance answers with a mouthful of food.
"Cool." I say.
"What grade are you in, cupcake?" One of the twins asks, though given the nickname, it's easy to tell which one it was.
"Eleven." I answer.
"Really?" He asks.
"Yeah."
"Shouldn't you be in grade ten?"
"Shouldn't you be minding your own business?" I shoot back.
"Meow!" He scrunches his face. "I never knew grades was such a touchy topic."
I sigh. "I skipped a grade."
"Hey!" He shrieks, "What did I say about speaking Gibberish?! English only, Brooklyn!"
Before I can tell Liam to shut up and shove that rule up his ass, Landon says, "She said she skipped a grade."
I peek at Liam through my lashes. "What?" He nearly chokes out.
"You heard me, you fucking idiot." Landon says calmly.
"Language, Landon." His father warns.
"Don't forget Brooklyn, too, dad!" Liam adds.
"Liam, stop talking and finish your breakfast." Ella says in a grumpy tone.
Man, it's like everyone here aren't morning people. Same, honestly, guys.
Same.
We spend the rest of breakfast exchanging in quiet conversations, me having ones with Lucas, who came down not too long after Liam was complaining about Landon and I having a secret language that he wasn't involved in, but if he wanted to know our 'secret language' then he could simply watch Dora or get someone to teach him lessons.
"Bus is here!" Louis shouts, and my stomach drops.
Oh God, oh God, this is it! Oh my God, I might die today.
Ella gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, after she kisses her husband goodbye when he says he's going to talk to their secretary about some upcoming events their ranch has planned.
I'm the last one out the door, and by then the boys are already loading up. It's a short bus, one I never really been on since I was always in walking distance of school, but from what I seen through the semi-tinted windows, that there wasn't a lot of people on that bus, which made my nerves calm down a little.
"Brooklyn?" The bus driver asks. Female, about fifty, with long grey hair, and a large smile plastered on her lips. She seems enthralled; I have no idea why.
"That's me." I nod, and step up the few steps it takes for me to get where the seats are. There's a couple open spots, so I take the one closest to the front of the bus, about two seats ahead from Louis.
I shrug my small bag off and place it beside me, my heart racing and nerves going insane as I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my Facebook and Snapchat, sending some streaks and snaps of the mountains.
A couple of people get picked up, greeting the driver and giving me confused glances as they pass me, but as per usual, I ignore them and the loud noise ringing through the small space as we pull up to a two storey school. It has a large front, and looks to be a huge rectangle. I catch a glimpse at its name before we pull up behind it: St. Helen Catholic Secondary School.
My eyes widen as I read the name, and my heart beat grows faster. I'm not catholic, and I am 100% an atheist. There is no way I can attend here.
"Relax, cupcake, this isn't your stop." Liam tells me, and I relax a little. Three kidsâtwo girls and a guy, get off and soon enough, the bus is going again.
Ten minutes later, and we pull into a second building; another two storey school. It has a large glass window in the front, with bold words above it reading: Bear Creek Memorial High School.
Well, this must be it.
"Come on, Blue, this is you." Landon gestures ahead of me, and I hesitantly grab my bag and step in front of him, leading the way with Landon, Lance, Louis, and Liam behind me.
I'm at the bigger doors, but stop abruptly and turn around to ask the boys for directions, and laugh.
They're gone. Poof! Disappeared, MIA, left me for dead.
Well, Brooklyn, you did it prison, you can do it in high school. I got this. I got this.
I take a deep breath and open the large door, and step foot into a crowded hallway full of chattering students and faculty members.
I don't got this.
It takes me a few minutes to get my crap together until I start circling around, looking for the office. Luckily for me, it's right beside the entrance I came in.
I walk into the large space, a middle aged woman with dark brown hair sitting behind the counter. When she catches my eye, she gives me a smile. "Yes?"
I gulp. I forgot I'd need to talk somewhat. Fuck! "I'm. . . I'm new."
"Oh!" She giggles, "Of course. What's your name, dear?"
"Brooklyn May."
She takes a few moments before grabbing a piece of paper, followed by a USB flash drive and a keychain with the school's name on it. "Your locker is already unlocked for you, you'll just have to get a lock for it. Do you have one handy or do you need to buy one?"
"I probably do somewhere, but I'll buy one now." I say honestly. I remember buying a Dudley lock in the summer of ninth grade to practice on for high school so I wouldn't get locked out, but then of course my parents selfishly dropped the 'we're shipping you off' bomb on me and threw everything I owned in random boxes.
I should really go through those. . .
"Okay, great! That'll cost you five dollars." She says sweetly.
Oh.
Damn.
Shit!
"Er, you know what? I don't need a lock at the moment." I change my mind, cursing myself for being so stupid and making a fool when I haven't been here ten minutes.
Cancelled cards, and no exchanges made for my money handy yet.
Well, Ella gave me money but I'm not spending it on a lock.
"Oh, that's alright. Here, follow me and I'll show you to your locker." I nod, and wait for her to come around, and exit the office. She turns left, then we walk silently all the way down to the end of the hall. "So, where are you from, darlin'?"
I struggle to keep up with her since she's got a lot longer legs than I do. She's nearly six foot. "I'm from LA."
She stops abruptly and gasps. "LA as in Los Angeles?"
I nod. "That's the one."
"Ou, I've always wanted to go to LA! So, tell me, how often is it that you run into celebrities?"
Awe man, another one of those obsessed people? Damn it. I should have told her that I'm from one of those boring states. Like South Carolina.
Seriously people, just because I live where most celebs work doesn't mean I run into them!
Even though I have bumped into a lot. . .
I should stop talking.
"Depends on how often you go out and where." I shrug like it's no big deal, when really, it is not. Celebrities are just like anybody else, except they're just known more and they have more money.
"Have you met Blake Shelton?"
"I have."
"I like you." She grins.
Wonderful, I think to myself.
She turns right, walking halfway down the hall before stopping again, and turns to her right. "Locker 1443, this is you." She says softly. I mumble a thank you, and she strolls off after saying that if I needed anything, to just ask.
I open the already-unlocked locker, and it's quite wide, so I toss my bag inside. Looking at the paper she handed me, I see that my first class is English, and I groan. I read the room number, and begin strolling around looking for it.
It's in the two hundreds, so I came to terms that this class is on the second floor. Once that class is found, I look for the others, and when I just find my last class, which happens to be Home Ec (boo!), the bell rings.
I haven't seen either of the boys, so I frown and walk back to my locker, quickly grabbing my binder, headphones, and charger, and scurry upstairs. The English room is on the other end of the school, so I make sure to not bump into anyone as I jog to class, alongside the other kids running.
I'm surprisingly the first one to class, so I take a seat at the back. Students start piling in, and a couple minutes after the final bell rings, a male walks in behind the teachers desk, placing a large stack of binders on the desk.
Chatter amongst kids stops immediately once the teacher slams the door closed, and stares around the room. "Which one of you is the new student?"
My eyes widen. Cursing myself, I slowly raise my hand to forehead level, letting his eyes just catch me, before dropping my arm.
"Perfect. We're a little into the unit, so just hang tight and try to catch on. Come see me after class and I'll get you caught up."
I nod. No talking, no talking, no talking!
The class starts, and I try my best to pay attention. I'm not good at Englishâcan you guess why?âso I just write down everything that comes out of the guys mouth that sounds important.
The period flies, and the bell for next class goes off. I head to the desk, and get stares as people exit. Morons. I give the teacher a tight smile, before he starts explaining the stuff we've already gone through, and all I can do is nod because I have no idea what the hell he is talking about.
"Reading over your school records, I see that your marks aren't the greatest." He tells me, and I shrug. I'm not good at school. He sighs, but rummages through one of the huge ass binders he brought in. He takes out a lot of sheets, handing them to me, before closing it and pushing it aside. "How about I find you a tutor to help you get caught up?"
I shrug a nod.
"Shy?"
I don't know why, but I said, "Spanish."
"Aah." He nods. "Well, that makes sense of this class with you," he smiles, "Anyway, I'll figure something out. Is there anything else you'll be needing help in? Any other subjects?"
I hand him my timetable. "Everything."
He laughs, sending me a grin. I look up at him nervously, and see that I actually hadn't noticed that he's a young teacher. He looks to be in his twenties, with shaggy honey brown hair, and I see that he has hazel eyes.
More hot guys with hazel eyes? I'm drooling.
"Leave it to me, alright?"
"Mhm."
The second bell rings, and I frown. Late on my first day, of course. Though that's always a great excuse. . . but then again, I don't want all eyes on me, so my gut drops.
"I'll write you up a note." He says softly, and I nod repetitively, taking the slip out of his hands and running to my next class: Chemistry. Luckily, it's just down the hall.
I rush into the class, but the teacher doesn't seem to care as I hand her the slip. She gives me a nod, and shakes her head for me to take a seat. I turn my attention back to the class, and see nothing open for me to sit alone.
Damn it.
I gulp, approaching a seat with a girl beside it, but before I can ask if I can sit there, the teacher speaks up, causing me to freeze.
"Alright, everyone up against the back wall." She orders, and without further hesitation, everyone is up of their seats and against the wall. "Seeing that your choosing of partnerships isn't working as well as you all stated, we're having switch ups. However, I will be the one switching and pairing you up. As seeing that we have a new student, numbers are now even, so Miss Maxwell, you are no longer a lone worker."
The teacher walks up to the center of the class, a clipboard in her hands. "Alright, these partnerships are boy-girl. That way, we won't have as much goofiness."
"But Ms. Ox, I don't wanna be paired up with Dallas! He's so annoying!" A girl exclaims, and I see that it's the girl I was going to ask to sit beside.
"You'll deal with whatever I give you, Carly." Ms. Ox, I guess, retorts back. Carly huffs and crosses her arms beside me, rolling her eyes.
"She's such a bitch, so watch what you say. Piss her off as much as you can." Carly says, and I mistaken it as her whispering to someone else, but I indeed see that she's talking to me.
Wait, what?
She's talking to me! Oh my God, what do I do? What do I say? Jesus Christ, Brooklyn, speak up! It's not like you're talking to a hot boy or the fucking president! Say something!
I laugh. "I can do that." I glance at her, and she's smirking at me. She's about to say something when Ms. Ox beats her to it. The girl looks familiar, and it takes me a moment to realize that I have her in my first class as well.
"Maxwell, you'll be paired up with Fitzgerald." She begins, and I watch the two groan. "Oh shut your complaining up. If you have a problem with how I run my class, do yourself a favour and don't tell me about it and suck it."
I snicker at her, but nevertheless pay attention. I listen to her as she calls off the last names of students, before only six of us are left standing; Carly and me being one of them. "Um, Jensen you'll be with Smith, Boswell and Hanna, and May, you'll be with O'Connor. That's it, get with your partners and I'll explain everything after."
I look around, seeing Carly's eyes wide, and smirking again, giving me a wink, "Go get it, girl!" She whispers, nudging me as I watch a tall, handsome boy with brown hair drag her off to a seat.
I furrow my eyebrows confusedly at why's she's telling me to get some, but my question is answered when I see another tall guy, I don't know, maybe 5'11 or 6'0, walk towards me smugly. He has blonde hair that's spiked up in the front and messily handled in the back, however it looks perfect, and olive skin, making his bright green eyes stand out.
He's gorgeous.
Damn, more hot guys!
"You must be the new girl." He says, his hands in his pocket and a smirk on his face.
I shrug. "Mhm." I say with a faint smile. As much as I want to speak, I don't want to speak something he won't understand.
He says nothing and leads us to a set of desks, farthest from the door and the teacher. I take a seat beside him, my heart hammering in my chest. I have a hot guy. As my chemistry partner.
Is there any ugly guys in this school?
I glance around to set my final statement.
Nope.
Every guyâin this class at leastâis pretty decent looking. Not hot, but not ugly or unattractive either. This whole country has good genes, damn it!
"So," the hot guy beside me starts after about ten minutes of silence and the teacher explaining work.
I look at him, but say nothing. One, I'm too shy, two, I'm really trying hard to pay attention to what this woman is saying considering I'm a weak student in chemistry, and three, that being said, brings me to my next point that I don't exactly trust myself with my languages yet.
English and Spanish are close languages, it's hard for me to not get them mixed up. Especially since I'm still learning some things, and I've only known it for just over four years.
"You're shy I take it?" He chuckles. God, his voice is really deep; he has an attractive chuckle, too.
"Yeah." I whisper. Yes! Yes, you go Brooklyn, English!
"What's your name?"
I frown, knowing that I won't be getting anymore work done. Though I don't really mind; my hand was killing me. "Brooklyn." Then add immediately after, "May."
He smirks, holding his hand out. "Atticus." He does the same thing as me and adds, "O'Connor."
He even has a hot name. I take his hand in mine. His hand is larger than mine; warm and a little calloused, but somehow soft. It was a comforting gesture.
I slip my hand back, giving him a small grin and continuing to work. I notice that Atticus doesn't even have his binder openâno, he doesn't even have a binder at all!
Soon enough, the bell rings again. I take in note that it was the lunch bell, and I groan. I don't want to eat alone in the cafeteria, and I didn't get a good look of any nearby fast food chains around the school when we pulled in.
I slowly pack away, trying to waste time, until I sense a presence. I look up worriedly.
It's Carly. "Hi."
"Hi." I reply.
"You're new here, right?" I nod. I look beside me, seeing Atticus still putting his 'work' in his backpack. "Do you fancy sitting with me at lunch?"
I gulp. An invite? A lunch invite? My stomach erupts happily, and a true smile makes its way onto my face. Wow! "Um. . . yeah sure."
She smirks at Atticus, before looping her arm in mine. "I'll see you around, May!" He shouts out, and I glance back, seeing a flirty smile on his face, winking at me before Carly pulls me out of the classroom.
"So. . ." She smirks.
"So what?" I question.
"Atticus!" She exclaims. "He's hot, yeah?"
I shrug. He's freaking gorgeous. "I guess he's okay."
"Okay? You just got partnered up with one of the top five hottest guys in school, and you think he's okay?!"
"Yes." It comes out a question.
"Oh God, where have you been?" She laughs.
Prison. "Not here, apparently." I reply.
My mind falls back to the top five hottest guys in school.
Who the hell are the others?
"Who are the other four?" I ask her after we stop at my locker to return my books, then head to hers.
"Other four what?" She questions as we stop at the space directly at the bottom of the stairs. She punches in her combo before throwing her books inâliterallyâbefore grabbing some money from her Adidas backpack.
"Hot guys in school."
"Oh, don't worry about that. You'll know once you see them." She answers giddily, squeezing my arm out of excitement and I think she legit just started daydreaming.
People here are nice! As far as I've experienced today.
No high hopes, Brooklyn, no high hopes.
"Now, come on, let's go eat, I'm starving! The cafe is serving spaghetti." And then I'm dragged to the cafeteria.
I feel my stomach growl, so I try to convince myself that eating is something I'm wanting to improve on, and that it can possibly calm my nerves down for the rest of my day.
I smile at her and get in the short line of the cafe. Carly gets her serving, as do I, before we continue to look for a spot to sit. Carly leads me to an empty table, and I raise my eyebrows.
"Don't you have friends?" I ask. Shit, I didn't mean for it to come out so rudely! God damn it. "Shit. IâI didn'tâ"
"Don't stress about it, Newbie." Carly laughs, brushing me and my apology off. "My friends are all away for school sports and field trips. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't allowed to stay home."
"Oh." So I'm just someone to keep company?
Tomorrow will be shit.
"Don't worry," she says, twirling her pasta around her fork. "Depending on how today goes, I may or may not take a huge interest in you."
"Why?" I ask, "Because I'm the new girl?"
"No." She says. "Because you're not Canadian."