Lovers: Boarding School Vol. 2//The First Reset

_tutor

A character, who everyone claimed was disturbingly obsessed with her, was actively doing his utmost best to avoid her.

Her. The "step-sister." The one being "obsessed" over.

Now, Violet was very understanding of James' plight as she knew that the boy had to screw a tight cap over an explosive bottle of suppressed emotions--and for good reason--but Violet was getting fed up with the more aggravating symptoms of that suppression and that included his over-the-top method of avoiding her.

Whether it be at the student body president's office or at the doors of his advanced uni-prep classes, James' loyal lackeys would tell her--like the snooty brainless puppets that they were--that he was somewhere else, was somewhere else doing something else with someone else, or wouldn't be around for some time because he was somewhere else doing something else with someone that someone like her should not bother asking about and never should.

Was this what Gabriel meant when he said James' route was difficult? Not only did she have to deal with James' unfair resentment towards her, but she had to go through a freaking obstacle course of unreliable schedules, pompous bottom feeders, and dimwitted school bullies to get a mere glimpse of his semi-styled platinum blonde hair as well?

Wonderful.

When she had grown accustomed to seeing Gerard's (a.k.a. "Discount President's") half-priced imitation of James' blisteringly icy glare, Violet did manage to see the real thing by chance as she was being harassed by a triad of mean girls in front of a wall of lockers.

"Who do you think you are, Leigh?" hissed the girl who'd viciously slammed her into them.

I don't know, a corporeal RL human being? What do you think you are? Do you believe that artificially created entities deserve human rights? Are you open to a philosophical debate on the matter?

As Violet bit down the sass sizzling on her tongue, her eyes scoped out the three girls that had boxed her in.

You girls aren't Jennifer and co. (LETALIS: It's Tiffany, Vi. TIFFANY.)

In place of the three angry blondes who had put Violet in a previous position in the previous novel, two analogously unremarkable brunettes flanking an equally unremarkable "ringleader" with waist-long, raven black hair took their roles. Violet pressed her lips together to smother a smirk when she saw that the ringleader's hair looked "surprisingly" similar to hers.

Hmm. I wonder what she's angry about.

"You're not going to answer me?" the girl with the black hair growled.

"I bet she's a mute," one of the brunettes sneered.

"And a retard," the other brunette added.

I could be both the longer I'm around you three.

Summoning the spirit of Leonardo DiCaprio, Audrey Hepburn, and William Motherfucking Shakespeare, Violet lowered her head and gripped her white knuckled fist behind her back. I wish Gabriel could see me now, Violet thought, her eyes drawing tears. I need acting lessons? Bitch, I need a fucking Oscar.

"Ugh, such a poser."

"Does the retard think she'll get special treatment from James if she cried?"

"I can't believe James is related to this."

On the outside, Violet shrunk further into herself. In the inside though, she smiled. Hook, line, and sinker.

The "subdued pitiful virgin who'd been woefully tormented by sadistic bullies" continued running with her act like the "good and virtuous" protagonist that she was, only getting out of character for a nanosecond when the ringleader with hair like hers grabbed a stalk of her hair.