August 31, 2021

Nova

I tried my best to copy the pins for school outfits on Pinterest. I used to dress like a "prude," wearing baggy pants and dramatically oversized shirts, but those days are long gone. I always avoided embracing my body because I felt so inferior to the big-titty committee girls, though I recently kind of realized that it doesn't matter. Once I turn eighteen I can resort to plastic surgery anyway.

I bought some clothes this summer, using the "back to school" money that my mother gave me. I have to give her some credit because she's still making ends meet despite my dad not being here. We now live in a shitty run-down apartment on the other side of town, however, and I despise that.

"Want a ride?" my mother offered, but I declined.

"I'm too old for that Mom," I argued, as I fixed up my outfit. I had a gold belt on with black ripped jeans, a black body-tight shirt, and black moccasins. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't stuff my bra a little, but I was sure to not overdo it this time around.

After some back-and-forth bickering, my mom gave up and reluctantly allowed me to walk to school. I promised her I'd be careful of traffic, pay attention to street signals, and go straight to school. I kissed her goodbye, which I seldom did because she often had these sudden, long-lasting spurs of hostility where it seemed like she hated me, and began walking to Norwood High, the school I'd be attending for my senior year. A fresh start, if you will.

Aubrey

"Mom!" I yelled loudly as I scrapped off the remainder of my beauty mask, "Do you have my clothes laid out?"

I was pretty excited to start at Norwood, but I wouldn't be caught dead showing said appeal and joy. I figured I'd be what most considered 'fashionably late' as well, just for the effect. I want to be stared at and noticed.

"Yes Ms Aubrey," my mom answered, interrupting my thoughts. "I have your stuff laid out, baby." As lonely as it could be at times, being an only child was honestly great! I'm like a newborn puppy to everybody.

I took one last look in the mirror as I finally ripped off the little bit of dried clay on my face. I studied my features: straight brunette hair, ocean blue eyes, thin, though not paper-thin, lips, and thick, but not too wide, eyebrows. I was American standard pretty, and hell, I know that.

As I made my way downstairs, I saw that my mother laid out a white crop top with a woman beater style to it, slick material black jeans, and white plain pumps. I trusted my mom to plan my outfits because she was allegedly just like me when she was in high school. That's how she unintentionally won my dad over.

I checked the time and saw that school had just started. "8 a.m.," I smiled, "good."

I put on my outfit and parted my hair so that it split evenly down the middle. I grabbed my Dolce and Gabbana tote bag, which cost a fortune, and headed towards the garage where my new (well, nearly two years old, but who's gonna know?) BMW was.

I had emailed the principal for parking details about a week earlier, so I had that covered. As for navigating the halls and figuring out my classes, I could just hope that a cute boy along the way would see me and feel bad enough to help me.

Nova

"Shit" I groaned as I tried to pick up the pace, "I'm gonna be late." It was now eight in the morning, which is when the first bell rang. I prayed that I didn't have some super strict up-the-ass teacher so that they wouldn't mind me being a little behind. Maybe they'd even pity me, given I was new here.

I began walking faster, and maybe even a little bit more carelessly, in an attempt to at least be at Norwood by 8:10. "Tomorrow, we are to start walking fifteen minutes earlier," I thought aloud.

My thoughts and determination to get to school on time completely blindsided me from the physical task in front of me. "Watch where you're going bitch!" a brunette-haired woman with a well-maintained, expensive-appearing car had shouted my way. I began crossing the street while the light was still yellow, so I suppose I was wrong.

Typically I'd say "I'm so sorry!" and scurry away. But this year, seeing that nobody at Norwood High, or even on this side of town, knew me, I wanted to show that I wasn't one to be fucked with. So instead of my normal, inferior demeanor, I gave this woman the same amount of distasteful commentary that she'd given me.

"How about you watch where you're driving, hoe!" I yelled as I finished crossing the street. The lady looked at me, clearly stunned by my remark, but didn't waste another second on me. She sped off to who knows where, booking the red light and all.

About seven minutes later or so, I finally arrived at Norwood High, the school that I was relying on to redeem my horrible childhood.

As I walked around the parking lot, maneuvering my way through vehicles, I saw the same car that the brunette lady had been driving in. "Damn," I said aloud, as if I was talking to someone, "what if she's one of my teachers?"

Now a little paranoid, I walked into the building. My schedule had been emailed to me, so I opened up my mail app. "First period: US history," I murmured. I headed in the direction that the signs pointed to. Albeit, I am one oblivious bitch, so I'm grateful for the fact that Norwood didn't assume that all the students knew where they were going, or something.

As I got to the "senior wing," I began counting the room numbers. I noticed the numbers rose as you went further down left, and lowered as you headed right. I was currently at room 302, looking for 312.

Upon arrival, I braced myself. Being late meant everybody was gonna look at me, and the teacher would undoubtedly question my tardiness. "You can do this Nova," I whispered to myself. "Just go in."

"Hi" I barely got out, as I swung the door open. "I'm new here, and I had some issues this morning, my fault." I figured that if I explained why I was late before my teacher asked, she would respect that. And as I expected, she did respect that.

"No worries, Ms. Nova," my teacher beamed with joy, seeming to already know my name somehow. "I'm Mrs. Silva, and I'm pretty easy to get along with. I just want to see an effort in my class. If you can do that, I'll do my part in teaching and aiding you. You can have a seat next to Aubrey."

Mrs. Silva pointed at an empty seat, which happened to be next to a brunette-haired, blue-eyed, Caucasian female in the back left corner of the room. After a moment of us staring each other down, my stare being out of deja vu, I realized that Aubrey was the girl who had passed me angrily this morning after we exchanged some words. Fuck.

I broke my stare from Aubrey and turned back towards Mrs. Silva. I thanked her and quickly headed to the back of the room. I could already tell that Aubrey wasn't the nicest, and being next to her wasn't gonna be easy. Maybe if I tried to make amends, she wouldn't hate me for long.

The one thing that I had kind of hoped Mrs. Silva wouldn't do, happened the second I thought about it. She asked that we talk to the people next to us and try to get to know one another. I only had two people next to me: a boy, who was kind of cute, to the right of me, and Aubrey to the left.

I didn't bother speaking to Aubrey, I figured she could speak to me. I actually looked approachable.

The kid to the right of me turned, as it appeared that the person in front of him wasn't interested in speaking to anybody. Once he turned, I was able to actively study his features up close: dark brown low-cut curly hair, very light freckles under his eyes, brownish-green eyes, and a muscular frame. He was definitely an athlete.

"I'm Nick," he said kindly, offering me his hand to shake. "I play on the varsity football team, I'm turning eighteen next month, my dad was a famous football player, and I'm a ladies' man!" I raised an eyebrow, wondering if Nick said all that in hopes that I would find that attractive, or if he was just normally that flirty. Hoping he didn't take note of my facial expressions, I quickly fixed my face and smiled.

Before I could speak, Aubrey budded into our conversation. "I'm Aubrey!" she said excitedly, although her excitement was exaggerated. "I'm a model, I'm rich, and I guess I kind of fit the rebellion narrative. I got sent here after getting kicked out of my old school." Aubrey smiled from ear to ear before speaking again, "Oh, and I received a BMW for my sixteenth birthday."

I was expecting Nick to drool over Aubrey. She was pretty, appeared wealthy from the looks of it, and didn't seem shy; I was the literal opposite. But instead of Nick flirting, or gushing over Aubrey, he turned back towards me, continuing our conversation like it was never even interrupted.

"So tell me about yourself" Nick suggested, and I smiled slightly, nodding at the same time. I could see Aubrey giving me a stare, which I'm sure wasn't a friendly one, from the corner of my eye. "I'm Nova," I spoke softly, intertwining my left-hand fingers with my right. "I used to go to Westend High, but then I moved to this side of the city after my parents divorced. So now it's just my mom and me. I turn eighteen in November and I love children."

"You love children?" Nick asked with a smirk as if that line benefitted him in some way. "Cool!"

I was about to say "I know right," but Aubrey interrupted yet again. Maybe it was a good thing that she did this time around, because "I know right" is a hard response to further converse with.

"That was the most boring life story I have ever heard," Aubrey budded in. "Who cares about your parents' shitty marriage? That's not even a fact about you. If you want attention, just say that." Nick groaned and looked over at Aubrey.

"I can't tell if you're a bitch for real, or if you're trolling," Nick said, causing me to go wide-eyed at the mention of the word "bitch" being directed at a girl. Nick continued speaking, looking Aubrey dead in the eyes. "But this ain't the movies, shorty. In real life, nobody likes mean girls, and they aren't cute."

Aubrey seemed humbled by Nick's statement. She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and turned away from us.