Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.
-Shakespeare
"It will be alright. It will be alright," I chant in my mind.
But no matter how much I try to get used to the taunting voices in the background, I can never be desensitized to them.
"Whore."
"Oh, look, an ugly bitch is here."
"Is your father back yet?"
"Did he leave because your mother is a slut?"
Every word and every piece of dirt they throw at me hurts like a bitch, but they don't need to know that. I've learned to school my expressions by wearing a facade.
Ignoring the sweet, welcoming words I am being showered with, I make my way to the classroom.
Suddenly, a hand pushes me. I stumble back but catch myself before I kiss the floor.
I can't risk my first kiss, after all.
I see a tall, lean figure with long blonde curls and gray eyes standing in front of me.
Oh, for God's sake, not this bitch again.
"Hello, Ms. Ugly Duckling," that's what they call me here.
I roll my eyes at the shit they've been repeating to welcome me.
I try to ignore her and move past her, but she likes it rough, I guess.
"Look at the bitch being all sassy now," she says, smirking at me in a loud, high-pitched voice to get attention from all the students.
Such an attention-seeker. She loves being in the spotlight, and I don't, but she needs to taste her own medicine now.
"Get out of my way, Kia. Don't you have anything important to do?" I say in a bored tone.
"Mind your tongue, you fucking bitch. I think you forgot the lesson you learned two years ago." She says with an evil smile and sparkling eyes, loving to see people in pain.
I stiffen with memories of the incident that took my soul away and left me hollow.
'No, don't let her get to you, Ami,' I tell myself.
Don't give them what they want.
I smile at her, feigning nonchalance, and say in a calm voice, "If I forgot so effortlessly, then you need to up your game, baby. You can do better, you know." I move past her, leaving her fuming at my lack of reaction.
Oh, how much I love that expression on her face.
As I enter the classroom, I look at the familiar faces I've seen for years.
I take the desk in the corner at the back, settle myself, and put on my earphones, ignoring the chaos.
The hairs on my neck prickle, feeling eyes on me. I look up to find the source but see no one. Considering it an illusion, I busy myself in my own world.
From the corner of my eye, I see a silhouette coming towards me. Keeping my eyes on my phone, I try to avoid the person invading my personal space.
Frowning, I look up.
My breath hitches, finding light blue eyes staring more than glaring at me.
Beautiful and empty eyes.
Emptier than mine.
Taller than anyone else in school, with a strong, well-built muscular body and tanned skin.
Ian Castillo.
The most handsome face I have seen in my 17 years of existence.
His navy blue school jacket shines, making mine look dull. His white shirt sticks to his body like a second skin, and his pressed black trousers make him look like he walked out of a fashion show. Chiseled face with a jaw as sharp as a knife, high cheekbones, and those lips...
Okay, not going there.
A smirk plays on his lips, telling me he is enjoying me drooling all over him.
His eyes hold mine like they were meant to stare into his.
Everything else disappears.
"Good morning, young people," a very cheerful voice from Mrs. Stone jolts me out of my trance, breaking our eye contact.
Ian moves past me and settles at the desk behind me. I bite my tongue to snap out of the maze I was lost in.
What the hell was that?
"Listen, children. It's already the senior year of high school. I hope some sleepyheads are up already." The class bursts into giggles. Mrs. Stone always makes her surroundings comfortable.
She's like sunshine, making everyone around her as happy as she is.
"Let's start a very interesting assignment this year." This time, groans are heard from the class.
I may not be a straight-A student, but Mrs. Stone never makes me feel less deserving.
I shift in my seat, feeling a continuous stare burning into my back. I can't understand his sudden approach after all these years.
Being the golden boy of St. Paul's High School, you can either be his friend or his enemy; no one is in between. And I think I fall on the enemy side for obvious reasons. I sometimes catch him glaring at me like I've slapped his girlfriend in the face.
Does he have one? I don't know.
I always avoid the spotlight, especially people who can bring me under it.
I force myself to focus on the discussion about the upcoming assignment.
"I'll have the names paired up by the next class. I expect you all to work hard." Okay, that's going to be hectic for me, as I barely know who would want to be paired with me.
Ugh!
God, give me some strength.
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(A/N: Guys, this was the second chapter. Please vote if you liked the story. Let me know in the comments how it's going. Thanks for reading!)
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