5. Walls of Leroy Academic High School

Playlist for this chapter;

All Falls Down - Alan Walker ft Noah Cyrus,

Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson.

There are two answers to every question.

The one you're being taught and the one from your own perspective.

And during an examination, you write things you were being taught, or maybe from your perspective answers that must correspond or be similar with what you were taught.

If you give answers to questions like;

What does patience means, and your reply was

"I think patience isn't required, helloooo (smirks), why wait for a teacher to keep going on when all the words that proceeds out of his mouth is absolute trash? Why wait for your parents to grant you permission to leave the house when you could always sneak out through your goddamn window.

You'd get failed because you didn't give them what they taught you, or an answer similar to what they taught you from your own perspective.

So you see,

School is heck!

Smelly, balding, short, stuck out bellied principals.

Awful food.

The gossips, popular kids, the bullies and bullied.

The gossips are mostly the popular rich kids and seventy seven percent of the popular kids are the bullies.

The bullied are mostly the nerds, kids who put on hand me down from their parents or clothes from thrift stores. Plus cowards who let people's words get through them.

Dad's got loads of cash and gives grate funds to the school, but that doesn't give me the advantage to bully people. I mean I'm spoiled rotten and popular, but I don't use people.

And If I were the mayor of New York City, Bill De Blasio, I'd declare no school on Monday because I hate Mondays.

It's the beginning of a new week tagged alongside couples of shit you aren't prepared for.

-

THE LIMOUSINE HALTS IT'S pace infront of the the massive building of LAHS( Leroy Academic High School) on monday morning, and I hop out, slam the door shut and merge into the crowd of the kids talking as loud as they can, using their phones and catching up with their friends. I have my backpack against my shoulder and my half eaten candy on my hand.

It feels like yesterday when we vacated for spring break. The kids all look different,

will various hairstyles, make up, new and expensive clothes to boost their fashion trend and remain the popular, the rich and the bully. The only kids looking the exact way they were, where of course the nerds and the poor kids.

Ivy and her league pauses from gossiping and taking shots of themselves and put on the same look of hatred at the sight of me.

I smirk when I have flashbacks of writing with a marker "I'm a bitch, fuck me." at the back of her P.E yellow shirt inside the female's locker room twenty minutes after she hit my face with a football during P.E, physical education last term. The bitch wore the shirt walking around the whole school and was laughed and pointed fingers at. She reported me to Mr Styles and I was given detention from two to four pm.

Ivy transferred to our school during sophomore year. We never got along even when we were paired together as project partners in computer. We always bicker back and fourth.

I notice the crowd spacing out, as I confidently take steps, chewing on my candy. It's kinda odd, because the kids do this when they see the most popular kids in school. Only for me to look behind and see them looking over at the 'Mc-fucking-kenzie golddigger siblings'

"Wow, what a sight." I mutter sarcastically to myself, rolling my eyes balls in their sockets.

I've practically been avoiding them ever since what they did to me the previous day.

Had dinner in my room yesterday and skipped breakfast this morning, simply because I haven't come up with some plan to plot against them. I even acted like they didn't exist inside the car with me. I'll eventually get back at them one way or the other. It's better to let them think I'd let what they did to me slide and do something awfully terrible to them later.

Miranda is infront wearing a black vintage shirt, white denim shorts, black boots and dark shades. Her long black straight hair was blew by the breeze. Boys collide into each other, few whistled, slam their lockers shut with a loud thud, while the rest where ogling as she confidently catwalk pass them.

Evans is behind her, clad in saggy black jeans, his muscles were bulging on his buttoned up shirt, and a big chain was around his neck like a bulldog that he is. He ruffles his curly hair and smirks at few girls and they giggle, blushing. Someone even fainted.

The kids start murmuring audibly amongst themselves.

"Woah."

"They look like new transfer students"

"Who are they?"

"The black hair has got beautiful tanned skin."

Sarah is in a white loosed short gown, jeans jacket, brown boots. Her salt pepper hair which is in a bun has a pencil stick to it. She's blushing, avoiding the eyes of kids as she follows her siblings to the principal, Mr Brett Amber's office.

Sam doesn't pay attention to the stares he's receiving. He walks in a slow pace with his usual scowl on, hands tucked in the pockets of his white hoodie. His navy blue skinny jeans aren't saggy like Evans's. He's the second tallest sibling out of the five.

Max is..

Wait.

I can't see the douchebag anywhere.

Now I remember, he wasn't even in the car with us.

The asshole's probably skipping school on the first day of resumption.

Whatever!

For Pete's sake, I hope the beast is suffering from diarrhea.

I advert my attention away from them and unlock my locker, unzip my backpack, slid out my English note book because my schedule read I have English as my first peeiod. After that, I shove the bag inside. And when I slam the locker shut, I see Maggie beaming up at me.

She's really small with a tiny voice. But her parents are loaded. She's a goody two shoes nerd wirh straight A's. She always did my Calculus assignment for me.

Aside that she's nice and sweet, the exact opposite of me.

"Hey Kate, Ttttt-ristan is glaring at your way." She stutters pushing her glasses up. She has this habit of stuttering when she gets nervous.

"Don't look back." She mouths at me, but it's too late, I'm already glaring hard at the shitbag who has the bitchy little brunette from yesterday, clinging onto his arm.

"Are you wearing masculine jeans?" Ver appears behind Maggie with her earphones plugged on, drinking a milkshake.

"Mmm-my stylist picked on them."

"You and I know you don't own a stylist." Ver snicker and wink at me.

Maggie just stares down at her feet, ears and neck pink from embarrassment.

I return my eyes over to the brunette with fucking Tristan, she pecks him on his cheek with her eyes on me, then giggles.

Now I remember her, she's a junior like myself.

The asshole stoop so low leaving me for her, she even isn't pretty as I am or has a wealthy Dad.

Is he trying to making me jealous?

Because he's abruptly failing.

Lie. Lie. Lie. My subconscious fires at me and I mentally face palm.

My stomach churns as I start feeling a tiny pang in my heart at this.

Tristan was furious after I dumped my soda on his head late yesterday evening.

I embarrassed him in front of everyone present at the restaurant. He stormed out not before calling me a lousy little bitch, and left with his little slut.

I hate to admit it, but I still feel something for him. He was my first love, first kiss and first boyfriend.

And today, he's glaring so hard at me that if I'm not hard headed and is scared of him, I'd have had chills traveling down my spine.

We are being pull out of the glaring competition by the sound of the bell which rings for first period.

"I'm going over to submit my Physics project that I couldn't get done with because of the measles I had last term. See you next class." Maggie informs, giving me a two finger salute, and scurrying away with her heavy backpack, with the crowd of kids who push their way pass themselves, heading to their supposed classes. And I want to call Maggie crazy for ditching a class she hadn't even attend on the first day of school resumption.

Ver had disappear leaving no trace of her.

I stride to English class and slide on a seat at the front as familiar faces troops in, talking and shouting at the top of their voice.

Mr Clifford, our English teacher clears his throat and silence fall as they all take their seats.

Someone who's putting on a black cap inside his black hoodie, and has his hands tucked in the pockets of his black crazy jeans walks his way in before Mr Clifford starts the class.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He says. He's really tall, like 6.3 feet tall. Voice too deep for his own good, and his British accent is thick and hot the same time.

"Mr?" Mr Clifford inquires staring cautiously at the boy.

"Maxwell Mckenzie."

What-

The-

Actual-

Fuck!

I thought the douchebag is skipping school today, little did I know he is having English with me. He is a senior, because most seniors who had low GPA's or fell under the not doing their assignments category took Mr Clifford's English class with us. And Max would be under one of the groups.

"Maxwell Mackenzie, you're the new transfer student. I really hope this isn't how the rest of the year is going to go."

He only gives Mr Clifford a firm nod, and as if he know he's being watched, his eyes travels around the whole class and I wince when they settle on me.

His black clothings makes his eyes a shade greener, and the black cap he is putting on, hides his dirty blonde hair.

Max is a little bit muscular but not muscular like Evans.

Girls swoon and ogle at him like he is some eye candy. Everyone has their eyes over at him.

I break eye contact because his eyes holds nothing in them as he stares at me, during the moment I was stupidly checking him out.

I yawn with my fist against my mouth.

Guess I probably have amnesia.

"Have your seat Mr Mackenzie."

And the only vacant seat left in the class is at my left hand side.

Shit! I can't bare the thought of sitting next to him, it'd be unbearable.

He slides into the seat next to me, smelling really good and masculine that I grit my teeth with my lips sealed together, balling my fist, fighting the urge not to punch something.

The bastard who bullied me yesterday shared English class with me, and to top it all, he is my seat mate.

Mother luck is totally against me today.

"Anything the matter Miss Jones?" Mr Clifford aska and I snap my eyes over at him who is currently staring at me in a weird manner through his glasses, that hangs loosely at the brim of his oblong shaped nose.

I know my face is red from anger like it used to, and I have my hands ball into fist.

"Maybe her boyfriend broke her heart or something and she forgets this is school and not the gym. The poor thing really needs a punching bag." Ivy says over her intertwined fingers under her chin, and the whole class erupts into fits of laughter.

"At least I'm not a bitch like your mother who doesn't know who's your biological father." I shoot back, getting angrier.

"That's enough you two." Mr Clifford warns, as Ivy and I exchang sneers at each other. And the asshole, Max, looks over at me with amusement dancing in his green eyes as he chuckles.