8. Blue Barbie of LAHS

Compete and compare yourself with no one. You can never be them and they can never be you. You're going to be killing it your own way if you don't give a fuck about not being too pretty or curvy. You're smart, pretty and funny in your own way and I'm certain there are people out there who're going to love you for yourself if you haven't met and surround yourself in their midst by now.

--

ARIANNA GRANDE'S BREATHING blasts through my earbuds as I run through our humongous sorroundings, enjoying the calm, soothing and beautiful early hours morning breeze of Buffalo city.

It's 5:23A.M in the morning, a normal morning routine for me to run and excerise every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.

I halt my pace, panting really hard, running shorts and tank singlet drenched in my own perspiration as I slid open the lid of my water can and hungrily drank from it.

I watch as our grumpy gardener who's weird to me because of his boundless love for flowers, pick at the flowers with a flashlight in the massive garden. Dad gave him a comfy apartment, but he chose to stay inside the tiny garden equipment house right in the garden.

Last night, I declined FaceTime with Dad since I was too pissed to see his face or talk to him. Aside that, he became a total stranger to me after he tied the knot with Doris.

The McKenzie siblings are all occupying the rooms on the right wing, while mine was on the left wing on the third floor.

I did all my possible best to avoid them, especially Maxwell.

I know I'd get back at him for the awful things he did to me. It might be today, tomorrow or even next week. All I knew was that it was certain I'd get back at him, and never will I allow him to leave with the last word hanging in the air. I'd make him regret ever messing with me.

"Here, Miss Katherine." Madeline hands me my favorite orange chilled juice in a glass cup and watches me as I dawn it within seconds, before she hands over the towel to me.

I'm at the entrance of our mansion, few meters away from the bodyguards on duty.

"Are my clothes for school ready?" I inquire, wiping the sweat off on every of my exposed skin.

"Yes Ma'am."

I catch sight of a new body guard checking me out. His smirk grows wider as his gaze settles on my boobs.

I return the smirk and inquire.

"Madeline could you do me a favour?"

"Tell Mr Grayson to fire the pervert on my left." I add in a flat voice before she can reply, and yank the door open.

* * *

"...a notable proportion of society has become grossly fixated on plastic surgery, with people attempting to buy back their youth, or to buy a similar face/body to that of their superstar idol. Surgeons are cashing in on people’s insecurities, using the knife as a magic wand for superficial happiness. With an increase in the number of deaths attributed to plastic surgery, and a massive rise in Botox addiction, unnecessarily altering ones appearance on the operating table. So, in conclusion, there'd be less of death news and disfigured body parts in the society if we all appreciate, be contented and settle for our appearances which was passed unto us by the supreme being we all know as God. Twenty-one percent of the kids present here are Atheists and would label me a blabber, but the Holy book which is recognize as the Bible said 'God created us in his own image, and after his likeness' which states the fact that He, being the Supreme being that he is, had a purpose for creating us the way we are now. So plastic surgery is futile cause we all have our own beautiful differences, wether skinny or chubby, lanky or dwarfish. And I, Katherine Amelia Jones say, plastic surgery is unnecessary."

I conclude breathlessly, standing in front of the whiteboard, facing the students, having finished my presentation on The Repercussion of Plastic Surgery in the society today. Something I had browsed through the night. But a little bit of guilt sting me deeply because I did boobs surgery, I really wasn't contented with my tiny boobs.

I vividly remember Nana Jones taking me to church when I was seven. I haven't step foot in church for half a decade but I still believe God exist. Sixty percent of the people here in Buffalo city aren't Christians.

The whole class bursts into a round of applause except Sarah, whose mouth is left hanging open in utter shock.

Yeah right, she takes History class with me.

I had fail to take notice of her and my friends yesterday in English class because I was preoccupied boiling with my hatred for Max.

I smirk at her expression. She needs to know I'm the best student in History.

"Welldone Miss Jones, your presentation was adequately accurate as usual." Mr Brandon, our History teacher comments.

I confidently catwalk to my seat with an Aura of pride and sit down.

"Miss Mckenzie, you're up next."

* * *

We almost stumble out of the classroom, laughing out our guts because of what happened before History period ended.

Sarah had made a total idiot of herself, like giving excuses of her first day resumption of school yesterday in a state called New York, in the Northeastern United States being the source of not preparing for the TROPS (The Repercussions Of Plastic Surgery) presentation in history.

Right, so when Mr Brandon asked her if she had any idea about repercussion of plastic surgery, she remained mute, staring down at her boots, face and neck red like a freshly plucked out tomato straight from the garden.

She was called a BDB, a 'British Dumb Bimbo' in class by a boy and the whole class erupted in fistful of laughter at this.

Afterwards, she was pardoned till Thursday morning when we had AP History to give her presentation on TROPS or according to Mr Brandon, have an F in his class.

I lick on my itching bruise lip, noticing something like blue paint trickling from my locker, and as I unlock it, I'm welcome with a balloons of blue paint splashing all over my hair and clothes, covering and dripping it's way down from my all.

Students erupt in laughter, points fingers at me and slips out their phones to film and take shots of me, to possibly post on LAHS blog.

My heart threatens to burst and shatter into pieces as the pace of my breath becomes hot and aberrant. I close my eyes shut and bite on my bruise blue paint lip so hard, paying less attention to the excruciating pain because what is more severe is the humiliation, the clicking sounds of phone camera's, the laughter and giggles, looks of disgust and pity from the kids.

My friends gasps in horror at this.

"H-holy M-molly." Maggie stutter.

"Darn, we gotta get you all cleaned up,  Kate." Ver says, fuming in anger, pulling me along with her as she scurries away towards the female's locker room.

I allow my friends pull me away from the scene, the floor is slippery because I have paint dripping from my shoes. Ver and Maggie bumps into kids as they head for the females locker room with Maggie, being the miss goody two shoes, muttering the "Sorry" word to who ever she bumps into.

And before I finally enter the females locker room, I catch sight of Tristan and his teammates fist bumping each other and laughing with their fists against their mouths.

* * * *

Suprisingly, Max was chose as captain on football team by the football coach Mr Anderson, totally stripping the asshole Tristan off his position which left Tristan

glaring at Max all the time as they did extremely hard push ups and laps with Max supervising. School had dismissed over an hour ago.

Flashback

At first, Max had arrived and sat one a bench, watching the whole team practice.

Mr Anderson spotted him and rushed to his side immediately. He pulled Max into a brief hug before a word could proceed out of the clueless douchebag's mouth which made Tristan and his teammates stopped practicing.

I chuckled at this.

"This is Maxwell Mackenzie, the famous footballer in Britain who's a transferred student." His arm was on Max's shoulder as he introduced him to the team who gave Max smug looks, or mock stares.

"Sorry to inform you guys, Max's now your team captain."

"What!" Tristan's face was twisted in horror and absolute disbelief when he heard this, while the rest of the team, being the cowards that they are, muttered inaudible words amongst themselves.

"This is unfair, coach. How can this British boy who just started schooling  yesterday be our team captain. I'm your best coach." He looked like he was going to cry, which made me fist pump the air. Max folded his arms and gave him a smug smirk.

The jerk was totally enjoying the whole scene.

The shithead, Tristan had been the one to in plant the paint in my locker.

The video of me drenched in blue paint was on LAHS blog and was the talk of the whole school. It was captioned the 'Blue Barbie of LAHS.' Ver had rushed out of school to get me new clothes from a boutique with my credit card. And it took hours to scrub all the blue paint off my hair with shampoo and water, which led to me skipping the remaining classes for the rest day.

It was during that hour Miranda bursted into the females locker room, reapplying her lip gloss, wearing her hair loosed before she started Face timing with some guy.

I discern sadness through her voice, I barely heard the boy's voice but it seemed he wasn't happy too.

"Tu mê manquês, Leo." She murmured breathlessly, tearing up with her hand fisted against her chest like she was in great pains, before the guy's face disappeared from the screen.

Sadness and pain flicker over her eyes as she watched me before heading out, slamming the door shut.

It was uncertain why Queen Miranda let me see her break down. Any way, it was no business of mine.

I muttered towel-drying my hair.

She deserves every pain in the world, and more for being such a narcissist bitch.

Back to the asshole Tristan,

Karma payed him well for what he did to me. Because his coach's response to his reply was.

"Keep blabbing Mr Walter, You can never in your life meet up with his standards in football. He's one of the famous kids in Britain. I was told by Principal Amber's and browsed about him through the internet which confirmed the whole truth. Maxwell Mackenzie-" He tapped Max's back at this. "- is a star, and I won't risk not having him as my team captain."

And Tristan nearly died of frustration. He spotted me smirking at him and glared at me with clenched jaw.

End of flashback

You might be wondering why I'm watching the football practice, but Max being the asshole that he is, went to the football field instead of the cafeteria. Since I couldn't interrupt him, I decided to await the jerk because we have to a whole mess to clean up at the cafeteria and tons of dirty dishes to wash and dry as the assigned punishment over our fight yesterday.

The football practice finally ends ten minutes later and Max had a few words with the coach before he slings his backpack against his shoulder, and walks away from the field with long confident strides, whistling and laughing because he knows Tristan and majority of the teammates are mentally drilling holes into his back with their death glares.

Max smile drops off his face when he takes notice of me. His jaw ticks as he halts his pace.

"You're supposed to be in the cafeteria with me working your ass off and not the football field." I say flatly, so not in the mood to bicker back and forth with him, as I stare at him down my nose with my chin raised up defiantly in the air.

"No one asked you to wait for me." He replies with so much hatred in his voice and icy green eyes.

I look away and see Tristan and his teammates staring curiously at us.

Tristan's head is snapping back and forth between me and Max, suspicious grey eyes dim with jealousy.

I smirk at him and before my brain can properly align what I'm doing, I'm pulling Max into the school building.

_