The Bad Boys Target (#1 Royal Academy Series)

Chapter Four: The welcome committee

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Firstly, Royal Academy is not a real school. It can't be a real place.
With so many people crammed up, the air feels charged with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming school year. I wish I could share in it, but all of my enthusiasm has been snatched away—and very fast. I didn’t expect to get my spirit crushed for a few weeks yet.

Washing my face, I heaved a sigh, looking into the mirror.

Why am I being targeted like this?

Maybe it's because I'm an outsider. I sure look like one. They could know that I'm poor and do not take likely newcomers invading their space.

Or maybe it's how I look. I mean, I'm never the one who tries to fit in. But my unruly brown hair doesn't look too friendly. Plus, I inherited my mother's round face and blue eyes that looked awkward against my hair and skin tone. And my weekend clothes didn't make it any better.

I washed my face and let out a sigh. My face is puffy, red and my brown hair is a mess. A few girls were inside the bathroom, powering their noses and whispering about something, most likely which guy they find cute. Either way, I was thankful it wasn't about me, they didn't seem to pay any attention to me, which was temporary relief. I knew there was more to come, and I should brace myself for it. Sooner or later.

The bathroom door squeaked open, I didn't think, I hid my face under my red tie, not wanting anyone else to see me. Not like this.

Although, I'm sure no one missed the glorious way my face smacked the floor.

Lost?

Allow me to recap for you.

On my way to the second period, I stopped by my locker to collect a few things. I always want to have everything with me, I didn't want to forget anything, that would have been too awkward to stand up in the middle of a learning session and ask to be excused.  Plus, I didn't have the courage enough to ask anyone for anything.

Reaching my locker, I pull it open and place my brand-new textbooks inside before taking out my class schedule. Calculus. Wonderful.

I sighed, slamming my locker shut.

Turns out, me gathering all my stuff made me late for class. So it was more awkward when I walked in.

''Miss Cassidy, you are late for class.'' Mr. Turner said. his black-rimmed glasses shielding his tired eyes and his gray hair illustrating his age.

Someone snickered. Swallowing, I nod. ''Sorry, it won't happen again.''

''Try not to let it to. Time is valuable.''

Don't I know it?

Ignoring the twenty or so eyes gawking at me, I manage to slip by unto my usual seat. In the middle of the classroom, it felt like a hot seat somehow.

I could feel eyes burning holes into me, waiting. From every corner. Shaking my head, I sat down on the chair, placing my backpack in front of me on the desk.

I started taking out my textbook when I heard a crack. Then that was it, next thing I knew I was on the ground nursing a wound around my wrist and everyone flashing phone at me, laughing. 

Which brought me here.

I still hadn't figured who had streaked my seat. Mr. Turner was furious, he threatened to give everyone detention if no one admitted they had done it. But I guess it's something he'll have to let go of it eventually since no one came forward.