Crushing on Royalty (The Cuttings #1) [To Be Reconstructed]

3 | A Daughter Named Moan

I got up from my bed, jamming my alarm clock with my fist.

Ugh, my head was still aching from that head-bang scenario of mine. I'd really thought Grams' icepack trick would work but it totally did not.

When I stretched beside my bed and got inside our single bathroom outside the corridor, I gasped when I saw myself in the mirror. Holy crap, the lump on my forehead became an angry orange and purple fruit! No. No. This was so not my day. This was horrible!

I was such a jinx, wasn't I? I mean, all in one day yesterday, my life turned miserable and now I had a nasty bruise on my forehead.

That was how hard I had pounded Michael's own forehead due to my unwavering hatred for the guy? I was sure he was sporting a bruise too. He deserved it. He was such a douchebag, signing off first than me on the messenger!

With a sigh, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I had to make my hair work out great to cover up my bruise. Makeup wouldn't do with this situation of mine.

I stripped off my clothes and took a shower, and when I was done, I went to my room and changed into my school uniform.

Yes, people, I wore a uniform at my school. For the girls, we wore crisp white, long-sleeved shirts with a round neckline and a cobalt blue ribbon around the collar. It had a crest of the school's logo on the left pocket. Our skirt was smooth and flowy in the same shade as the ribbon, forming natural-looking pleats around that had a length of just a few inches above the knee. We wore ankle, cobalt blue knee-high socks -- and to match that off, we wore black shoes.

For the guys, they had on white, long-sleeved shirts, cobalt blue neckties and blazers with the school's logo on the left breast pocket, black slacks, and black leather shoes.

Anyway, I went to St. George's Catholic School. Everything there was dark, shiny, and expensive. You might be wondering how my grandmother was able to take me to St. George's, right?

Well, one of Grams' closest friends back in the day was our headmistress, Mrs. Smith. She let me join the school with open arms, but I had to earn my joining there by singing up for serving the meal every lunch hour. It hadn't been so bad, actually. I mean, Michael and Frederick hadn't enrolled to St. George's until only last year.

And anyway, it wasn't like Michael had ever noticed me serving the food for them everyday. He'd gotten there when he'd been only a sophomore, and then we had continued to ignore each other. We hadn't actually talked to one another since that Disastrous Blind Date of ours. We had only glared at each other and stuff. So it was no biggie.

Though I was kind of paranoid now about what happened to yesterday at Viv's birthday party because we were fighting now. Like, really fighting.

When I packed my stuff inside my backpack, I quickly ran down the stairs and went into the kitchen -- where I saw Cookie. That stupid parrot.

"Baaak, Keller ready and is ugly!"

"Oh, for the love of God!" I complained, glaring at the green and yellow parrot. Why did Gramps have to give Grams an annoying parrot? He could've just given her a hamster or something! At least a hamster would just be in a cage and run around its wheel and exercise, burning its calories! But no, it had to be a stinking parrot.

Gramps had loved the wild life before and was interested in all kinds of animals. He had always liked snakes the most. When he had been still alive, he'd gotten tarantulas and snakes in the house lurking everywhere -- well, lurking in cages anyway -- and he'd let Tommy and me pet them. But when he'd passed away three years ago, Grams had to sell them to pet shops and the zoo because she couldn't possibly take care of all of those wild pets.