Chapter One- This is an American Academy
~*~*~*~
The smell of American air almost made Izzy puke.
Izzy was British. She'd been living in London for almost fifteen years. But after her mum passed away a few weeks ago, Izzy had no choice but to follow her American father's order: study in some American boarding school.
She didn't belong here in America. The young lass would rather have a small chat with her mates back on her old school, prank police men with party poppers. And all those sweet memories were draining out of her mind.
But what always irks her is that she known for some harsh names: the half-American girl, the girl with two bloods, the girl who lost her mom, and other kinds of rubbish.
"Isabella," Her dad called her attention from the front seat of his car. Izzy scowled and buried her face in a pillow.
"What Dad?" Izzy's voice was muffled. It showed her dad that she does not want to be disturb. But she raised her head anyway.
Her dad shook his head of disapproval. "Izzy, I know how you feel." His voice was calm, "but think about it. If you really want your mother to be happy—"
"Don't you bring Mum to this conversation!" Izzy snapped. Her ears went red.
Mr. Vale clenched his teeth after he swerved his car to the right. "Izzy, just don't do any trouble. Okay?"
"Okay Dad." Izzy mumbled and plopped her miserable face back on the surface of her comfort.
~*~*~*~
"We're here, Izzy." Mr. Vale announced. He went out of the car and smelled the air with relief as if he just woke up from a million years of sleep. Like a mummy, Izzy thought.
"Got to hell, Satan." She moaned and cuddled her pillow.
"Oh, Izzy." Her Dad grimaced while fixing his tie. "Come on, sleepy head. You're already here."
Izzy finally opened her eyes, dazed. She looked at her dad and her view drifted to the school.
"Oh, I thought I'm dead." Izzy mumbled.
"Sweetie, please." Mr. Vale lectured as he handed Izzy her purse, "give this boarding school a chance. You'll never know that maybe it is for you."
Izzy gazed around the school; Clarity Academy: School for gifted ladies. The school was nice after all. It looks like a rich old lady's mansion. With gargoyles and a bird bath. Who wouldn't notice?
Then she took note of some students strolling down. Their backs were stiff. There was a proud expression on their faces. They all wore red royal vests, plain white long-sleeved shirts, tennis gray skirts, gray stockings, and buttoned down fauna boots. Just like Izzy.
But even if you're standing ten feet away, Izzy could tell they were rich. Just looking at those trinkets, rings, and fancy pearl earrings make Izzy wonder if America has a fashion sense.
'You all may be rich, but you got no style, girls.'
But admitting that someone is rich must make her take it with a grain of salt because she was richer than them. Her father owns twenty five-star hotels in U.S.A.. Her mom own a clothing line until she died. Now that has to be something.
"Fine, Dad." Izzy said stubbornly. She couldn't believe she was acting like a six year old brat. But it was unfair for her. "I'll act 'nice' and etc. I just hope this boarding school is worth my efforts of avoiding trouble."
Mr. Vale patted her shoulder, "that's the spirit, Izzy. Now go on. I'll be going back to my office to check something."
Izzy groaned. She cannot believe her own dad will leave her on an senior citizen's haven.
"Bye, cupcake. Gotta jet." He said as kissed her forehead. Izzy made sure her dad saw her wipe the smooch off.
And he did.
Instead of scolding her again, he jumped to his car and drove away.
"You have got to be kidding me," Izzy said with a snooty scowl.
