The Wattpad Princess

The Wattpad Princess and The Bus Boy

After I shaved my legs the bathtub looked like a scene of a spider massacre.

Tiny black hairs were stuck into all the corners of our brand new tub. I splashed some water over my legs, deliberating whether I should or should not shave the line of dark fuzz beneath my bellybutton. I kept hearing my mom's voice saying, 'They'll grow back darker and thicker'. So, as any proper teenager, I did the opposite.

After all, today was my first day of high school. I needed to lose the fur of my childhood and become a woman. A smooth, hairless woman.

I had my outfit already picked out. In fact, I've had it picked out for the last two months. A lovely, flowy rose dress with an elegant cleavage. Why elegant you ask? Well, I think it's better to say 'elegant', than 'boobless'.

I checked all of the online forums for boob growth, and they all said they properly come in when you're about 17 years old. So, I've got 3 more years to go. Besides, in case that won't work I've got my Breast Enhancement Cream with herbs and exotic plant extract that increase breast size.

I leaned my Huawei phone at the mirror and pressed play on one of Zoella's makeup videos. I have never actually put on any makeup, except for mascara, but how hard can it be? I'm pretty good at drawing, so this will be a piece of cake.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" A head of messy, brown hair stuck through the bathroom door. "It's like 6 in the morning." Said my brother, grouchy.

"It's my first day of high school, I need to look good," I awkwardly mouthed as I applied violet lipstick.

Sylar groaned and forced his way into the bathroom.

"Hey!" I tried to push him out, but it was too late. He was already at the toilet seat, streams of liquid being poured echoing from the bathroom walls.

I rolled my eyes, turning on the water in the sink to wash over the grossness that was my big brother Sylar. After he finished his 'business', he roughed his way towards the sink. Sylar brushed his teeth with the intensity of the brushes in a carwash, watching me apply my makeup.

I kept pausing the video, and turning it back. I just don't get the winged eyeliner. I don't see how both wings get to look the same. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself they had to look like sisters, not twins. Or is that what they say about eyebrows?

Sylar spit into the sink. "Your makeup looks like it was applied with a shotgun."

"Get out!" I hissed at him and pushed him out the door.

"But at least you've got 2 more hours until the school starts." He laughed from the other side of the door.

By that point I was so annoyed tears burnt my eyes. I took another wet wipe and rubbed the eyeliner away yet again. The skin on my eyelids was so irritated, it looked like I was getting a sty.

After an hour I've decided on a simple layer of mascara and violet lipstick. Damnit Zoella, you made it look so easy.

· * *

"You're going to escort Noora to school?" Mom asked Sylar, pouring him the third bowl of cereal.

"Can't," he said, gulping a big spoon of rice crispy cereal. "Football practice."

"I don't need the orangutan to escort me," I sulked over a small piece of toast with strawberry jam. "I'm meeting with Emina and Mihela."

Mom smacked her lips together, crossing her arms, unhappy.

"She'll be fine," Sylar threw a large bag over his shoulder. "There's really not a lot of people with the confidence to walk around with makeup that looks like a bunch of four-year-olds finger painted her face."

"Sylar!" Mom yelled as he escaped through the front door. "Don't listen to him sweetie, you look fine."

"Well," I got up and brushed the breadcrumbs off my dress. "I'm off, too."

"Don't forget the pills." Mom placed five different colored pills in my hand. I hated these. I hated feeling broken.

"I haven't had a seizure in-,"

"Because of the pills." Mom insisted, and poured me a glass of water.

As soon as I swallowed them, I was running to the bus station. I had to do it before I lost most of my energy. It's one of the side effects of my medication.

My pocket rang like Tinkerbelle shoes. That would be the other side of my medication.

When I was in the hospital, or when I have a bad day, I spent the entire day in my bed. With my laptop. While my other friends were living their love stories in real life, I wrote mine on Wattpad. At first I just wanted for someone, anyone to read my stories. Then, slowly, I've gotten to 100, 000 followers. I'm quite a celebrity on Wattpad. I'm witty, I'm funny, I give relationship advice even though I've never even kissed a boy.

I am more of myself on Wattpad then in real life.

I get to be anyone and do anything I want. I can be an archeologist climbing the Kilimanjaro, or the love interest of a Norwegian Prince, I can walk on Mars, or discover my doppelganger in an alternate universe.

On Wattpad, I am one of the popular kids, royalty almost, I am TheWattpadPrincess.

I took out the phone and smiled as I saw yet another private message in my inbox, sending me fan-art for my most popular story.

Suddenly, a large truck drove by and with it a strong gush of wind. It lifted my dress over my head, temporarily blinding me.

I yelped and quickly grabbed the hem of the dress, pulling it down. Tightly, I pressed it against my thighs, feeling the blood rushing into my cheeks. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck soaked in embarrassment sweat. I closed my eyes to live in one more second of blissful ignorance where no one has seen my grey underwear with tiny yellow chickens on it.

As I opened my eyes I noticed a boy at the end of the bus station, smirking.

Blushing and with my heart crashing against the cage of bones in my chest, I turned away, gripping tightly on my dress.

Luckily, the bus came just a second later. Unluckily, it was his bus, too.

I sat at the front, trying to forget the moment of utter humiliation. I chewed on my lip, praying to all the gods and goddesses out there, to please, not let that boy go to the same school as I.

As the bus approached the AMZS station, I took a deep breath, and walked toward the exiting door.

Of course, he was there.

I didn't have the guts to look him in the eye, so I nervously stuck my gaze onto the door. From the side of my eye, I noticed he wore a long, dark gray shirt with ripped jeans. He had two silver rings. One on the pinky, and the other on the ring finger. His hair appeared to be some sort of dark brown. He smelled of musk and a splash of man deodorant.

As the door opened I waited for him to exit. Instead, he stretched his hand, gesturing me to go first.

"After you," smiled the boy with amber eyes of a wolf. "Chicken pants."

Author's note:

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