The Mystical's Whisper

Chapter Two: Butts in pots and Rude Introductions

Chapter Two: Butts in pots and rude introductions.

Grabbing my laptop bag and black leather jacket I headed into the garage where my new black Audi R8 stood wedged in between my mother’s baking stuff and some of my canvasses. Switching on the ignition I loved the purr of the engine, not only did this car look like sex on wheels, it had power.

Another one of daddy's 'Sorry I abandoned you on Christmas' presents; there was no sentimental value attached to the car and for me it was purely a means of transport, unlike many of the boys I’ve seen ogling and drooling over it whenever I go to town.

Although we lived a pretty comfortable life I had never really cared about having expensive things, especially when others had so little.

His gift to me was just further evidence that we were strangers to each other; the car arriving without as much as “Happy Birthday” scrolled on some lined paper, something I might’ve appreciated more.

The drive to school, like always- was scenic.

Staying near the ocean I drove along the coast each morning. Breathing in the fresh ocean air always properly woke me up after a bad night’s sleep, something that had been a regular occurrence for the last seven years. Although the sky was grey and gloomy like usual, I witnessed the sunrise colouring the sky and the water with a light pink hue. Driving with the top down I loved the feeling of the wind in my hair as the waves rhythmically crashed onto the shore, it was my type of meditation.

Extra nervous about my first day, the drive had felt longer than usual as I tried to relax. Steadily cruising along the main road, I took in my surroundings as I listened to Yiruma; my fingers rhythmically tapping on the steering wheel in time with the piano.

In a train of deep thought and reminisce I jolted in my seat as a black Mustang honked its horn impatiently behind me, revving its engine.

Although I had been going a little below the speed limit I was still miffed at the jerk, whose car was now not even half a meter away from mine. Scoffing out loud I sped up a little, hoping to get him off my tail.

Pushing me back into my seat just at the touch of the petrol, the purr of the engine and of course the speed was exhilarating.

Sticking to the 80 km/h speed limit, the black Mustang however managed to catch up in no time and was tailgating me yet again. Flashing his headlights, and revving his engine the owner stepped on the gas, his car centimetres from mine.

Did he want to kill us both?!

Sick of his antics I floored it, despite the possibility of a hefty speeding fine.

“Wanker.” I uttered smugly as I pulled the finger, before speeding away, his car growing smaller in the rear view mirror, probably much like his ego.

When I finally pulled up in my usual parking spot at the far end of the lot, I was still a little distraught by my rather shaky start to the day. Getting out my simple Eco-friendly cotton satchel from the boot, I could feel the stares, and could hear the whispers of girls who clutched their Dior bags between their perfectly manicured fingers; their eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.

Even after seven years, people in St. Petersburg had still treated me like a zoo-animal, someone who didn’t fit the description of living in a town as prestigious. Ignoring the people that were staring and whispering as I slammed the boot of my car, I gazed at the amazing architecture of East Valley Prep High. It had been seven years, but I never ceased to be amazed by it. Staring up at the colossal gates once again before entering the grounds I realised why my father payed $25 000 a year for me to go here; a sum that was ridiculous by any standard.