Chapter Six

GLENWOOD BOARDING SCHOOL BLOG: SKYLAR COMPTON

THE GIRL WHO GOT A SOCIAL LIFE BY WRITING ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE'S SOCIAL LIVES BECAUSE SHE HAD NO SOCIAL LIFE

From now on, I'll be posting my blogs on SkylarCompton.blogee.net. And trust me, you'll want to see my next post.

Until We Meet Again

Skylar Compton

BLOGEE- SKYLAR COMPTON

WHO KNOWS IF I'LL HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE AT THIS NEXT SCHOOL, SO LET'S NOT JINX IT

I can't believe I'm saying this, guys, but I'm actually going to Ivy FREAKING Cordelia. It's always been a dream of mine and it's freaking happening. So long, Glenwood. Everything's hotter in ICBS. ESPECIALLY the people.

I will admit that I've stalked everyone in attendance since the ending of eighth grade and guys, these people look like God's and Goddesses. And RICH. We're all doctors and lawyer parents rich, but they're something else entirely. It's unfair, actually. And to make things even more interesting, the DALEY HEIR has finally come to accept her birthright.

She doubled the score I got on the acceptance test, which is insane. No one can say that she doesn't deserve to be there. Unless you were the upmost of top tier before she got there and got knocked down a peg. I can't wait to see the aftermath of that avalanche. YOU GO DOWN A TIER! YOU GO DOWN A TIER!

And while that is extremely exciting, I got a list of the students who will be coming with me from Glendale to ICBS and it is SHOCKING. Because, guys, somehow Peony Donovan and Taylor Wainwright are on the list. It makes absolutely no sense, but it's happening, and I can't wait to see what comes out of it. The content!

And Rhys Arrowood- exciting because he's the hottest guy we have to offer. Pure, chocolate, eye candy. Everyone else coming aren't very notable people- meaning I've never written about them. They could be absolutely great.

In fact, they probably are since me writing about you means you're probably pretty low on morals. But that's okay, too. I'm absolutely invested in the lives of everyone I've ever made a story about. And I love you all. See you at ICBS!

s.

I collapse on the floor of the gym- my mind and body exhausted from all of the dancing I'd done. My soul, though, less weary with every time I throw myself into a routine.

I was put in my first dance class when I was three years old, and I had always been amazing at it. But my life was easy, and my soul unscarred. So it was always casual for me. It didn't really MEAN anything. But after everything happened, it became something of a life line for me.

I put all of my pain into my dancing, and escaped from it in my acting. I got into that after pain, or AP- as I like to call it, when the theater teacher needed a dancer for one of her musicals. And I fell in love with it, as well.

I was given gifts to save me from myself when everything came crumbling down around me. I used to hang around these girls who were just as battered and bruised as I was- and where they used alcohol and drugs to help themselves through it- I used dancing, acting and music.

Singing had always been a given as well- that also meant nothing to me. Back when music used to flow around me instead of through my blood and bone. Before I sang in place of screaming, and yelling. Nothing could feel as good until you knew how bad it could hurt.

Those girls knew that what they were doing didn't help them- didn't need me to tell them, though I did anyway. They were the type to leave their glasses around at parties and go back to them in hopes that some asshole had put something stronger in them than they had in their arsenal.

They never tried to pressure me into doing what they did. They knew that I just wanted to be around people who knew what it was like to feel your soul be ripped in half. They always told their people to leave me alone. Told them that I just wanted to dance.

I spent many nights dancing around bonfires, surrounded by people too inebriated to stand. And when I wasn't pushing my body to it's limits, I pushed my mind. I read and I studied- even doing people's work for them because I needed something to take my mind off of what I was going through.

My pain was like adderall, helping me pump out ten page essays in a couple of hours that were worthy of awards. I took on the work of those girls, when they couldn't. I was probably the only reason they were passing. I wonder if they're still there now.

I had loved London since before I can remember, even more when it became my escape from ICBS. For some reason, back then, I wanted absolutely nothing laid out for me. I wanted to create my own path. But it waited for me, here, and welcomed me with open arms when I needed it.

And I realized, entering my room that first day, that I did need it. Hearing my door click shut behind me, I got a sense that it was all going to feel better. I can't describe how good it felt to be arguing with girls over stupid rumors, and hooking up with guys for the fun of it.

Walking around the campus, grabbing a hot chocolate to warm me up in the icy cold, warmed up even more than my temperature. For me, it was like dancing and acting and singing. Before, it was just there and available.

But now, it was here to help heal me, one petty argument and hard assignment at a time. And it meant more to me than I could describe.