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As much as I don't want to leave my current school, it was time for a change. Teachers never cared if you actually doing the work and never helped, the students ignored you at any chance unless your popular - which I sadly was. At the end of the day, you have to do what's best for you.
As I look out of the window from my room, I saw the big gates opening, I look directly at the posh limousine driving through our road and driving round our fountain. The fuck is this, I thought while scrunching my eyebrows in confusion, I got my phone out and text my only friend, Kestell.
Me: A limo just drove through the driveway.. I think it's Mr Wilkinson.
And sent. Almost immediately I got a text back.
Kestell: A limo? Most likely Mr Wilkinson.
Me: you sure?
Kestell: positive.
Me: I'll text you back when I find out.
Carelessly, I chucked my phone on my bed, and made my down the stairs, going all the way down to the first floor. I stopped at the last step, my parents at the door, talking to the man that pulled up I presume. I walk towards then and tap on my mother's shoulder, she turns around with a smile.
I inherit most of her features apart from her eyes, mine are green, I get them from my dad. She was about mid forties, her blue eyes gleamed with happiness and comfort, her long blonde hair had no strand of grey in which is surprising because they say I cause the grey hairs. She was tall, around 5'7 I think, but my dad was taller, him being 6'3. Then there's me. 5'4.
"Hello Marielle, what can I do for you dear." My mom smiled, showing her pearly white teeth.
She pulled me into a side hug, and getting a better view of the man who was at the door.
"Is this Mr Wilkinson?" I asked her whilst staring at him for a few seconds.
He didn't look a day over 50. He wore a grey suit, he had a few wrinkles around the eyes, his hair was gelled back with a fair amount of grey hairs, almost silver. His posture made him look serious and tall, his hands behind his back, and his straight face expression was intimidating.
"Yes, indeed it is." My mum smiled at me, her hands rubbing my shoulder.
"Hello Mariel, I'm Mr Wilkinson, the principle of Wilkinson Academy," he extended his hand, which I shook. "You must be the infamous Mariel Dickinson? I've heard lots about you." He laughed, as well as my parents.
"I'm guessing they were bad things then," I said while shrugging.
