Bianca

I'm perfectly comfortable as I sit on the desk, my feet resting on Dylan Campton's lap despite his loud and obvious objections. I ignore him, nudging my vans into his rib to make him stop, which earns me a glare from the blonde I call one of my closest friends. He tells me I'm being rude, but it's not like I've ever been able to fully coexist with being polite anyways.

It's a few minutes before first bell even starts, and we're enjoying our time in the back of the room, talking and being rambunctious, as per usual. Our stuff is spilled all over the tables, and there's more doodles than notes in our books. We're flinging around highlighters, pens, whatever our hands touch.

To say we had been bored beforehand had to be an understatement. Who honestly came to school and had fun? The only good thing about school was friends, and anything outside that area was just awful.

Today was supposed to be a prank day, hence why we'd come to school early when we clearly would've rather been somewhere else. But our designated prankster, Josh hadn't even showed up at all, and no one had a clue as to why. The reason for why he's MIA probably won't even be clarified until one of two things happen: one being that he texts us himself - which would require him responding to one of us and he hasn't - or two, gossip gets around the school - and gossip seemed to be something our school thrived on.

The goody two shoes who sit up front look at us funny, obviously irritated with the noise we were making. Sending glares in return, the quickly back off and look away, clearly without a spine. They know full-well that we can make their lives a living hell if they do something wrong.

Out of habit, I take the gum I'd been chewing out of my moth and stick it to the underside of the desk, where I don't even have to look to know that there's plenty other that accompany. Despite our school's anti-gum policy, no teacher ever really cared enough to enforce it, so it had quickly become something a lot of us did.

This, among other things, is what really bothered teachers, and caused assemblies and complaints as well as lectures. We were the type of kids school always complained about.

Glancing at the clock, it tells me that it's almost time to start class. Half the students have already filed in, and the noise level has definitely picked up. It's time to take our seats.

Much to Dylan's relief I swing my feet off to the side, sliding off the desktop to claim my own seat. Just to annoy him, I ruffle his air, amused as he tries to reposition it. It was something we'd started up a while ago, something we did just to annoy one another. We were both pretty picky when it came to our hair, and it was a show of close friendship to see that neither of us murdered the other for screwing up the oh so holy hair.

But annoyingly, such a friendship always came with the kids who thought we were dating. It happened more often that you'd imagine, and far more often than I had patience for. It was mainly just the freshman or the new kids, but like I said, our school thrived on gossip and word had gotten out that if one more person asked I'd be tempted to wring their neck.

The questions died down immediately.

I watch as the teacher comes in, completely oblivious the fact that most of us are actually here on time and not scrambling in last minute. He places his belonging on the desk and takes a sip of coffee from his thermos, eyes focused on his desk and what must be today's lesson plan.

When he finally looks up and his eyes lands on me they widen in surprise, almost as if he's being delusional and doesn't quite trust his eyes. But it's gone in the matter of seconds, replaced with one of sternness. "How nice it was of you to join us, Ms. White."

Thing is, I used to be pretty well in with most of the teachers. I'd been a star student from kindergarten to sophomore year, more of a star student than anyone had any clue of. I'd easily been many of the teacher's favorites, and I'd been shown off like some brand new trophy. They knew me, and their originally formed opinions had been shattered the moment I stepped into their class. 

"Sure thing, Jerry," I call him by his first name, receiving a look. Using their proper names like Mr. and Mrs. were a sign of respect, but I'd always been one to get on nerves for fun. I shoot him a wide, innocent smile, making him roll his eyes. But it doesn't take long before he goes back to doing whatever it is that teachers do.

I gotta give credit to teachers out there though. They deserve a lot for the shit-ton of things we do to them.

Once the bell rings and the last student had filed in, he begins his lessons.

His boring-as-fuck lessons.

I'm pretty sure that I spent ten minutes staring into space before I actually noticed that Mr. Burton was up at the board and teaching. He'd had a PowerPoint pulled up about whatever subject he was teaching. I didn't have a clue what the lesson was about, and to be completely honest, I had no intentions to listen in and or pay attention.

And clearly I'm not the only one who's deemed this lesson a shit show.

Kids are throwing paper airplanes around, and how it's goes unnoticed by Mr. Burton, I have no clue. One impaled the kid in front of me, pointed end running into his cheek. It earns a complaint from the victim and a chuckle of amusement from me.

On my right, four girls are huddled together, two of them turned back to be able to listen in. They're whispering like their lives depend on it, which shows that they're large contributors to the chain of gossip that runs around this hellhole. No one ever tells them anything if they want it kept a secret, and everyone knows as much.

Me and my friends had a acquired a very unoriginal name for the four: the Barbie Dolls. The name was a fitting one, in more ways than one.

They had matching manicures, all filed to perfection, too long to be natural, and clearly acrylic. Their hair are different colors, but all curled up, and more often than not, done up in the same kind of style. Their clothes cover them up for the most part, but are far too tight for comfort, like they were originally modest and cute years ago but were now too small.

And like Barbie dolls, the girls all seemed to be photocopies of each other, except slightly altered versions. They were all relatively the same height, as if that was a qualification of getting into their group and their eyes were all blue, which seemed to also be a qualification.

And such as Barbie Dolls, they were plastic. I'm pretty sure they'd done illegal plastic surgery since the age of fifteen, and their personalities hadn't faired much better. They hid behind fake smiles and oddly chipper attitudes. Their eyes seemed to follow you around, always watching and waiting.

Honestly, they were creepy as fuck.

Jocks to my left are making jokes, snickering with an immaturity they unsurprisingly possessed. But despite their jokes being dumb and immature, I still laugh, because sometimes being dumb is far more fun than thinking things through.

All commotion go unnoticed by the teacher, who is currently nose deep in papers with earphones put in, clearly intent on ignoring his class. Are teachers even allowed to ignore their students? Isn't that against what the job is about?

I mean, I don't really blame the man. I'm not even the teacher but I can notice how much of a pain in the ass we can get. We're loud and snippy and lack any type of respect despite being seniors now. We're sarcastic little shits who murmur rude things under our breath along with crude jokes.

He's probably given up on the lot of us by now. It's only he beginning of the school year, but it's enough to go on. Mr. Burton probably figures that if we won't listen, then he won't try to enforce teaching. He's probably been in the teaching business long enough to be sick and tired of all our shit.

And stuff like that is precisely why I could never be a teacher. Or take a serious job that involved kids. I mean, babysitting was a different playing field, especially since I always knew the kid well enough to know whether or not to take the job. But any other job? I'd probably snap and then get fired for not so nice behavior towards the children.

So yeah, I can see where Mr. Burton is coming from. He doesn't want to interact with us as much as we don't want to interact with him.

I wonder what would happen if I threw something at him.

Even though I really want to, I won't. I'm already on thin ice as it is, and pissing off one of the teachers when it was only the first part of the day was definitely not a way to fix anything.

Getting sent to the principal meant getting sent to my uncle, and that meant a berating from my family that I'd heard a million times over.

I've got my phone out from my pocket, and scroll through social media out of pure boredom.

I can't fall asleep in class like Dylan magically does. There are far too many distractions in the room and I wouldn't trust someone not to pull something over on me while I was napping.

Gossiping like the Barbie Dolls isn't my kind of thing, seeing as I could give less of a fuck about random people I don't know.

Note throwing isn't my thing either, and is actually pretty stupid considering the fact that people have phones now, and texting is way more convenient means of communication.

And so I sit here, on my phone with the Wattpad app pulled up, because despite how much I've changed, my love for books has remained the same for ages. Cliche novels and all that always make me feel so single. And most of these books just remind me of how much my life sucks in comparison, but that's what I like about them. I get to live a life that isn't mine.

Bang!

The sudden loud noise scares me, making me jump in my seat. As a result, my phone goes tumbling out of my loose grip, falling to the floor where the rose gold color faces me and I have to hope I haven't gotten it cracked up or broken.

These goddamn fragile iPhones.

"Shit," I hiss, bending down at an odd angle to pick it up. The motion causes a snicker somewhere behind me that I ignore. My back cracks as I bend, making me groan, but my phone is worth it. I wipe off the dust onto my jeans, assessing the screen.

I really need a case for this thing.

I sigh with relief when I find that there's miraculously no damage, opening back the app before remembering the cause of why I'd dropped it in the first place.

I look up at the person who's decided to come and interrupt the class, half expecting it to be the Josh kid or someone else I knew.

Imagine my surprise when it wasn't.

It wasn't any of my delinquents, because I knew by heart what they all looked like, and the closest person who resembled this kid didn't even take this class. And matter of fact, barely went to class at all. If he was too late, he'd just skip all together.

Someone who's completely off the radar, maybe?

No, this guy's a piece of eye candy - and all that eye candy couldn't have passed me without a second look.

As of the moment, the guy's back was all that faced me, but I could tell even from here that he was attractive. He was easily six feet, and towered over everyone else. His muscled back could be seen through the grey shirt he was donning, and muscled arms were on show. His hair is colored a dark shade, and tossed in a style that almost verged on bed head messy or fuckboi style.

"Thank you, now please go find a seat." Mr. Burton's voice interrupts my observation, my eyes immediately switching to him. He had a weird look on his face as he faces the boy, one I don't understand.

The boy makes a sound in acknowledgement along with a nod, gathering his stuff before turning around to go find a seat, revealing to me his face.

It comes like slap to the face.

How could I have missed it before?

Maybe it's because I haven't even seen or talked to the guys in a few years. He'd stepped out of my life and hadn't looked back.

But here he is, standing in the front of my class and looking down at everything he's been given.

I'd almost forgotten about him. Actually, scratch that, because I never could've possibly forgotten him.

Chase. Frickin. Michaels.

Well, welcome back, fucker.

•(edited)•

A/N: so I got rid of some parts where Bianca was being spaced out because it's tedious and cringey. And because of that, the chapter is also pretty short. Shorter than most other chapters. I'm guess most of the beginning chapters will be this way seeing as when I first wrote them up I hadn't written much in chapters.

But you guys won't really see the changes until later, when we get further into the story and things get more complex.

I'm not entirely sure how fast the updates are going to be, especially when I'm working on Queen of Secrets. I'm pretty excited for the book but I'm not giving up on this one.