Corruption™ (Punk Harry Styles)

Chapter Two

It’s been a couple days and I still have not found my pesky electronic device. I know it didn’t just magically sprout legs and walk away. So, then where has it gone? Ugh, this is way too time consuming.

Lucky for me it was Friday. Thank the heavens! Literally, I am beyond happy that the weekend is finally approaching my boring high school life. Yes, indeed I did say boring.

I mean, unless you love calculus and chemistry a hell of a lot, I don’t see who would honestly find high school a “fun” place to be. You just get random pop quizzes, midterms, finals, all types of projects, and a truckload of homework every single week along with the reoccurring tests every week that you have to study your arse off for if you want a decent grade.

So far I haven’t really run into that group of boys since my first day at Wilmslow. The only time I’m forced to be near Harry is in homeroom, which only lasts for twenty minutes, so it’s not too much of a torturous event. Only thing is that he looks at me in a funny way. I’m not even quite sure how to begin to describe it. It’s almost like he knows something about me that I myself don’t know.

The way he looks right through me is like he knows all of my secrets, every single lie I ever told, all the truth behind any expression on my face. It was almost like he seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

Now, how strange is that? It’s overly creepy, right? I know; that’s precisely why I have been avoiding him at all costs. He seems to find it rather amusing, however. Just a teenage boy thing, I guess. I wouldn’t know anyway, even if I had guessed.

“Jade, hurry before you’re late again!” my father yelled up the staircase.

“I’m coming!” I reassured him at an equal volume of voice so that he could hear me clearly.

I quickly re-brushed my hair for the third time that morning and spritzed myself with Pink Chiffon perfume. Oh, it never seizes to smell absolutely amazing. Seriously, if Heaven has a smell, I hope its Pink Chiffon.

After stuffing last minute school supplies in my bag, I headed down the steps. I hurriedly left a quick peck on my dad’s cheek and mumbled a “Good morning” before racing out the door to my awaiting car. My door was swiftly shut as I placed the key in the ignition and turned the car on. Wilmslow High, here I come.

Once I got to the parking lot, I found an incredible parking space that was never ever vacant until this morning. Some pink Volks Wagon convertible bug always occupied that spot. I zoomed into the space with my black Camaro and shuffled my bag out of the passenger side seat whilst I climbed out.

I hustled to the front, stopping for no one, not even my newly-made friends who had gestured for me to join them. It is Friday, for Pete’s sake, and I still don’t have any clue where my flipping locker is! Today I decided to rush myself in the morning with my very well put together outfit  [picture on the side] , if I may say so myself, so that I’d have time to find this metal enclosure made to hold my textbooks.

After turns and turns around multiple corners and walking down numerous hallways, I came to locker section S. Finally after a full week of carrying all of my textbooks with me, I’ll actually be able to put them somewhere and not have an extra forty pounds on my shoulder. Once I found locker 26, my assigned locker, I was relieved. I pulled on the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard I tugged at the lever, it just didn’t move. This is so typical.

“Need some help there little lady?” a familiar voice asked. Harry.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied back with a hint of a grunt as I pulled harder on the latch.