Tacenda (A Leonardo DiCaprio Fanfic)

Chapter 1

{This is the revised version of Tacenda (previously Bullied by Leonardo DiCaprio. I'm currently working on rewriting everything so your patience is greatly appreciated. Thank you and enjoy!}

{Avaline}

"You're going to be late again."

I halted at the sound of my mother's voice, turning around to meet her eyes. She stood staring at me, eyeing me through the living room from the kitchen; my mother leaned against the kitchen counters with a mug of coffee in one hand, curlers and silk bathrobe indicating an on-schedule morning.

"Trust me, I am fully aware." I remarked, heart beating anxiously to get out the door.

"Any plans for the day?"

"School." I huffed.

"Other than that." She set the mug of coffee on the counter behind her then folded her arms evenly across her chest.

"No." She dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

"Well, get out. You cannot afford to be late this time."

With a nod I snatched my car keys from the hook aside the front door. I tightened my hand around the jumble of cool metal and slung my bag over my arm, pulling shut the heavy oak door.

A 1980 Buick LeSabre sat in the driveway where I had parked it after a late night run to Nera's house. Relaxed with a white top and cherry red around the sides, it sat like a bad omen in front of the family chateau, dripping oil on the white concrete driveway. You can imagine the irritation my father had gained from this purchase alone.

My mother, however, made it much more difficult to pinpoint her source of irritation, and I thought about her often during the cruise -- now drift -- through the private neighborhood on my way to school. Her scheduled early-morning greeting was still fresh in my mind. She was simple yet elegant -- subtle, but so unforgettable all at once. Her disposition never cracked, never would she be seen in less than a silken robe. Always with tea or with coffee, hair always set or in rollers, and the makeup never seemed to shift from her face. One time I found her old photo albums from high school and was astonished that not a day had come to weather her face, and that the smile in her senior year photo - class of '92 - had not changed. Only it had changed, though not by age. My father's inheritance and her marriage to him rendered her unemployed, but with every possible whim desirable; he gave her the house, the cars, the dinner parties, the gowns, the jewelry, a lush backyard and ballroom balcony, only this had driven such melancholy into her heart, and I never knew why -- this life, I mean -- made her so unhappy.

Carefully I edged my car into the assigned parking spot and ran my fingers through my hair as I stepped out of the car. Nera Leifr and our mutual, Alyssa Swanson, leaned both against Nera's 2021 Porsche 718 Spyder across from where I was parked. Nera's family comes from a line of Old Money in Norway, and even maintain a semi-permanent residence there. I think she said her parents enjoy the atmosphere here rather than back home, something about a different crowd. 

I smiled as Nera waved to me excitedly; I had only now remembered it was February, and thick snowflakes hung in the air, stiff and fragile. I gave them a tight-lipped smile and nodded to the high school's entrance, and as I began walking they caught up close behind.

"We were beginning to think you wouldn't show." Alyssa smiled then kicked the powdery snow that blanketed the sidewalk. I glanced over at her, smiling bigger this time. Snowflakes dusted her black hair.

"Are you kidding? If I miss any more days it won't be detention flawing my record but expulsion."

Together we crossed the remains of the icy parking lot to the front of the school and I opened the door for the two before following closely behind. It was as we crossed the second threshold that the warning bell rang.