Salvation || Neymar Jr

one

• B e t h •

.

I sat in between my parents on a cramped leather sofa, awaiting the arrival of my new headmistress in a foreign country, where you could not have 4G internet. That in itself was a torture no American teen should have to endure, but do you want to know what the worst part was? Mosquitoes (though mind you, the no 4G dilemma was a rather pressing concern too).

I had specifically declined the insect repellant that my mother had offered me this morning and here I was, being eaten alive. I didn't want myself looking any more like an oily sumo wrestler with the cream seeping through my skin, but I needn't have bothered; the accumulation of bites would probably transform me into the size of one.

Precisely at the strike of eleven, the doors to the air conditioned room opened and a tanned woman walked inside. She was well dressed, maybe even a little too well dressed for the humid climate. Her unnaturally straight mahogany coloured hair fell down her back symmetrically and she wore a stern yet kind expression on her face which was worn by the cruelty of ageing.

"Boa tarde," she greeted, launching into a torrent of Portuguese that I could not understand. My parents nodded along in assent, but I was utterly lost.

I pinched my father on the arm and whispered into his ear, "I can't speak Portuguese."

He politely interrupted the woman and launched into his own paragraphs of gibberish.

"I must apologise, Miss Harrison," the woman said with a heavy accent,"I am Mrs Santana-Carloso, your headmistress."

Miss Santana-what?

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs S," I responded with almost no emotion, half heartedly shaking her outstretched arm.

"You too. I must assure you not to worry about your schooling in Brasil. As we follow the American curriculum, English will definitely be a compulsory part of your education."

A very small load of worry lifted off my heart, but a whole other weight the size of ten heavy duty trucks remained, psychologically suffocating me.

"You may however, need to get accustomed to traditional Brazilian culture, as we ensure that our foreign students will understand and rejoice the ways of life here. Any questions?"

Yeah, I do have a question for you:
Can I go home?

Obviously, there was no way that I was going to voice that inquiry aloud, sitting next to the watchful eyes of my parents. That would be like having a death wish!

As you could probably tell, I was already beginning to feel terribly homesick. America was undoubtedly one of the worst countries in the world, but it was still the land that I had spent all my life in; I had reason to be attached to that darn place.

Oh, and they had super fast 4G internet too.

"Do we have to wear uniform?"

"No, you will not. However, please do not wear anything that would cause both discomfort to you, and others around you."

Who did she think I was, a cheerleader?

The most 'action' I had ever received in my life was a frigging high five!

"That won't be a problem at all, Señora." mum piped in enthusiastically, "Our Bethania will not be of any problem to your school's policies. She's a very intelligent and respectful girl."

Well that was a first, someone actually saying something pleasant about me. I felt rather proud, until I realised that the words that had come out of her mouth were basically just a bunch of well said lies.

I was not particularly intelligent; I genuinely sometimes performed well in exams due to extensive revision and I certainly wasn't respectful! My parents often received phone calls due to my mysterious disappearances during Trigonometry and Calculus, plus I practically ignore all orders from my parents, simply following ones that suited me best and were the least arduous.

"Wonderful, then I shall proceed and hand over your schedule."

I examined the sheet of paper I was handed and was relieved to see that I basically had the same lessons as back in America, except from PE. I had the motor skills of a dead llama, so that lesson would not be a piece of cake for me.

However, I had a more significant concern.

"Portuguese? I barely know one word of the ruddy language!" I blurted out, not disrespectfully but not in a very pleasant tone either.

Mum glared at me discretely, clearly unimpressed by my outburst.

"Oh that," Mrs S said, "We have arranged for you to have a tutor for an extra hour every day after school. She will also be your official guide to the school."

Extra school?! What did I ever do to endure this torture?

"And who is this tutor, may I ask?" Dad asked.

"Rafaella!" Mrs S shouted, "You may enter."

I swivelled around and expectantly glanced at the opening door, to find myself audibly gasping.

If you were told that you were being tutored, who would you expect? Maybe a nerdy girl with glasses and her nose buried in a book? Alright, maybe that was quite a stereotypical exaggeration, but what I meant to say was that I certainly didn't imagine her.

A word to describe her would be cool. She wore a denim mini-skirt and a sleeveless top paired with Havaianas sandals. Her makeup was done perfectly, contrasting her tanned skin and her hair (which was let loose down her back) contained blonde highlights. She had small tattoos that were randomly scattered around. My parents looked disbelievingly at her, while I pretended to examine my cuticles, which looked dangerously unhealthy as a result of how much I had been chewing on them for the past week.

"This is Rafaella Da Silva," Mrs S announced, "She will be your tutor and guide. Rafaella, this is Beth Harisson."

Confidently, Rafaella stood in front of me and held out a manicured arm.

"Hi Beth," she pronounced my name as Beyf in a heavy Brazilian accent, "It's wonderful to meet you."

"You too," I said timidly, my social awkwardness kicking in.

"Well, I guess you two should go to lesson now." Mrs S spoke, "Once again, I hope your time at this school will be pleasant."

"Thank you," I choked.

"Bye Beth," mum and dad said, "Have a wonderful day."

"See you later, Mum and Da-"

Mum glared at me again.

"I mean, mother and father."

Unexpectedly, they both rose up from their seats on the sofa and pulled me into their warm embrace.

"We love you, Beth. No matter what. Don't you ever forget that."

I understood exactly what they meant and felt the happiness and gratitude coursing through me. They loved me, even though I was a screw up. Even though I was an outcast. Even after all that had happened.

"C'mon then," Rafaella pulled me up, "Our first lesson is English."

I let her propel me out the door after shooting my parents one grateful smile.

Well, here goes nothing.

➰

And that, meinen freunden (I think that means 'my friends' in German but don't take my word for it) is my first chapter. I'm really excited for this story as it's going to be quite a challenge to write, so I'd truly appreciate your votes and comments.

Please note that in this story, Rafaella and Beth are both seventeen years of age and Neymar is nineteen. In Brazil, there are no rules about a person over 18 having a sexual relationship with someone younger but still, Im too innocent to ever add smut *shudders*