The Bad Boy and The Know It All

Chapter 1

She tried to picture the girl’s face, conjuring the wide blue eyes, her crooked gapped toothed smile and freckled skin nearly as pale as her own. Dalia would have had her ass for going to that party last night.

Arabella wasn’t much of a partyer, back in Colombia Dalia used to drag her kicking and screaming. Fear for Dalia’s safety had been the only thing keeping her from locking herself in their shared dorm room. The memory was shattered as the intercom crackled to life.

“Ms. Newbern please begin to ready yourself, the driver will arrive any moment.”

 Arabella’s felt as if she’d been doused in cold water, her eyes snapped open as the fog cleared from her mind. She was late, very late. How could she have forgotten to set her alarm?

“Because you spent your night out in a stranger’s home sulking in a corner, that’s why,” she muttered to herself.

Throwing back the sheets, she stumbled to the box marked clothes and grabbed a random shirt and scooped last night’s jeans off the floor. Racing to the bathroom she threw her collected clothes onto the vanity and dragged a comb through her hair while simultaneously brushing her teeth with her other hand.

The brush snagged one of her curls and she cursed her unruly ringlets. A swipe of mascara across her upper lashes and she was racing out the door.

There was no way in hell she was getting chauffeured to school. No she would catch the bus thank you very much. She dug her sneakers into floor and came to a skidding halt before her father. 'What is he doing home? He should have left for the office by now.' Arabella wondered. A false grin split his wheathered face, making the deep grooves in his forehead  all the more pronounced.  

“Arabella.”

“Father.”

“Are you excited for school, the driver is ready to take you.”

“There’s no way I’m getting in that car father and you know it, I’ll be taking the bus from now.”

Her father grew as pale as his starched button down, his face twisting into a look of disgust so extreme Arabella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“T-The public bus! But why Arabella? I forbid you, and don’t you dare tell me that you rode them in Colombia. You’re a Newborn and you best begin acting like it.”

Arabella’s blood began to boil and she had the urge to kick and scream but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Her father would never allow her to return to Colombia if he met half the people she associated with.

Take Nina for instance, the elderly woman had become a second mother to she andDalia. The girls had become quite lost on a trip to town one summer and stumbled across the old woman in a dingy market.

Nina not only led them back to the academy gates, but shared her lunch with them as well, telling them stories all the while. Nina raised five grandchildren in a tin shanti across the river, the girls had visited her nearly every month eager to sample her latest batch of soup and hear another tale. No, her father would never approve of Nina, but she was not her father.

“I find that you will be pleasantly surprised with the ride,” was all he offered before pushing her out the door and sent her stumbling over to where a sleek Mercedes sat. Waiting.

Throwing open the door, she had barely clipped herself in when she was ambushed. A pair of slender arms clasped around her neck as the car was filled with a high-pitched squeal.

“Surprise!” Arabella froze, unable to wrap her mind around what she was seeing.

Bouncing up and down on the seat beside her sat an excited Dalia. The girl held up a finger to explain, “You remember that exchange program I was eligible for? Well yeah I goggled the list of schools participating and I almost died when I saw Charmell on the list, it was fate.”

Arabella’s felt her eyes begin to mist over and she tried to bat away the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Aw don’t cry Ara, I didn’t mean to upset you! Shit say something, anything!”

Arabella couldn’t find her voice so she pulled Dalia in close and clung to the smaller girl.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, I love you Dal where are you staying? There’ s no way my father would let you stay with me I-“

Dalia cut her off mid rant, “Nah that’s against the program’s rules anyway I’ve got a really nice couple I’ll be staying with. They cooked me dinner and everything last night.”

The car pulled up before a large brick building nestled between an assortment of scrawny trees. With a nod of thanks to the driver, Arabella grabbed Dalia’s hand and dragged the other girl from the backseat. The whole situation was surreal, she had her best friend back. Arabella pinched her arm to be sure she wasn’t still in bed.

“Arabella what the heck are you wearing?” Dalia’s muffled laugh brought her back to reality. Puzzled she  glanced down her front and inwardly groaned at the sight of the curve hugging little ensemble.

Back in Colombia Ara’s wardrobe consisted of loose fitting blouses and long flowing skirts. The shirt obviously belonged to the step monster how it had gotten into her box of T’s was beyond her.

“Damn girl you look hawt,” Dalia mocked fanning herself and ruffling her bangs.

            Arabella punched her in the arm and strode up the front steps. Hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed on them as they climbed the stairs. To avoid making eye contact with any of the gawking teens, Arabella pretended to fumble around in her purse for something. Suddenly she felt herself smash into a wall, a warm, breathing, very angry wall. Okay scratch that not a wall.

Her eyes slowly climbed up the dark navy shirt her face was snuggled against until she saw the wall- boy’s face. She nearly had a heart attack when she met his frosty glare.

The boy looked as deadly as he did beautiful, yet she couldn’t back up his coco brown eyes held her hostage. Forget butterfly’s there was a full on stampede racing through her belly.

            His hands reached out to grab her shoulders, steadying her. He help her at arms length and never taking his eyes off her face which she commended him on seeing as the clingy tank top she wore scarcely covered her.

“Careful ceila.” The boy made a move to side step her but she reached out and tugged his motorcycle jacket. Her heart was racing and she felt the palms of her hands begin to sweat. This absolute stranger had just called her sweetie. The endearment was not appreciated, after all it was his fault they collided.

“Yo podría decir lo mismo a usted,” (I could say the same to you) she fumed. His eyes widened and she smirked, turning on her heel and ushering an equally stunned Dalia to follow.

            It was obvious the boy hadn’t expected her to understand him, but you didn’t live in Colombia for ten years and not pick up on the language.

“Holy shit! Ara do you have a death wish? He’s still staring at you, but oh damn was that boy fine,” Dalia ranted from beside her.  Ara pointedly ignored the other girl as she searched the halls for a main office. Yet she couldn’t fight the feeling that she would be seeing a whole lot more of the hot headed boy.