Living With Boys

Chapter Seventeen: Flawless Canadians

Location (except the city name and shit), stores, and school names are fiction and made up.

Chapter Seventeen: "Flawless Canadians."

MONDAY.

Probably the worst day in existence. Everyone hates it and wishes it would disappear, but then that would make Tuesday into Monday, and Wednesday into Monday, all the way up to Friday and Saturday, and let's be honest: everyone wishes everyday were Friday or Saturday. Last day of classes, first day of hangovers, and the first day of being able to sleep in with no alarms blaring off.

Saturday is just the same, except it's better.

Today's my first day of school.

Luckily for me, my eye is all healed up and it's just me and my bruised thigh and cast. Though my bruises are now a light brown with a green-yellow tinge, they're a lot better than a few days ago when it was still black and purple.

I'm awake before my alarm goes off as per usual, so I turn it off before it can start and lay in my uncomfortable bed, praying that the mattress will swallow me whole from my existence on earth.

"Hey! Cupcake! You up?"

"Shut up, Liam." I growl.

I'm not a morning person, if you hadn't noticed.

"Yeah, mom, she's up!" I hear him yell.

Okay, Brooklyn, just don't speak, and I know you speak Spanish out of nervousness, so just don't say anything, and if you have to, be aware of it so you can at least try to blend in.

Shit, I am screwed.

It takes me ten minutes to get ready, and I'm walking down the stairs in ankle converse and light wash skinny jeans with a blank white hoodie. It's a comfortable outfit, but it doesn't show my whole girly girl style. I definitely have girly attire, but like hell I would wear anything of the sort without having any hint that girly fashion exists at this school.

Wanna know how knowledgeable I am?

I have no idea what this school's name is.

I have a Nike bag I would use for sports, so I throw everything I'll need for the day inside it, and just hold a binder. Walking downstairs, everyone is at the table once again, and I read the clock to see that it's only 6:30 a.m.

"What time do I have to leave?" I ask, tossing my bag at my feet as I take a seat beside Louis. Lucas is absent from the table, so I assume he's sleeping still considering his school probably starts later than ours.

"Bus comes at seven thirty." Lance answers with a mouthful of food.

"Cool." I say.

"What grade are you in, cupcake?" One of the twins asks, though given the nickname, it's easy to tell which one it was.

"Eleven." I answer.

"Really?" He asks.

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't you be in grade ten?"

"Shouldn't you be minding your own business?" I shoot back.

"Meow!" He scrunches his face. "I never knew grades was such a touchy topic."

I sigh. "I skipped a grade."

"Hey!" He shrieks, "What did I say about speaking Gibberish?! English only, Brooklyn!"

Before I can tell Liam to shut up and shove that rule up his ass, Landon says, "She said she skipped a grade."

I peek at Liam through my lashes. "What?" He nearly chokes out.