Breaking the Heartbreaker
Chapter 1: Meeting Mr. Player
He’s tall, has amazing eyes, smells amazing, and gives the best hugs. I didn’t say a name, but you were thinking of someone the whole time, am I correct? For most of the girls that attend Richfield High School, Trevor Webb was the poster boy of that quote. He was tall, handsome with a chiseled chin and gorgeous green blue eyes, an olive skin tone, and the body of a Greek God. He belonged in a magazine. But with the killer looks, comes the player personality. That is something Trevor did not lack at all. In fact, he practically believed he was God’s gift to women. But not once I’m done with him. I’m about to whip this boy into shape. I’m about to break the heartbreaker.
The alarm clock sounded, smacking a hand toward it as I groaned, I sprawled out of bed. Taking my long caramel brown hair out of the messy bun that had rested on top of my head the whole night; I opened my curtains to let some light into my violet room. It was bright and looked fairly warm out; a perfect September day in Swedesboro, New Jersey. It was a whole new school year, and I knew absolutely no one. Attending Richfield high school as a junior with a class size of eight hundred, I’m bound to make one friend, I reassured myself.
Dragging my feet against the plush white carpet, I grabbed the outfit I had planned out: a peach three quarter top with a white lacey tank top underneath, white jean shorts with spandex underneath so it didn’t violate the dress code, and silver Toms.
Stripping off my oversized Twin Cities tee, and basketball shorts, I remembered when I got that tee. It was last summer when I still lived in Minnesota. Me and my friends from back home; Emma, Sophia, Dylon and I, had all gone to the Mall of America to celebrate Emma’s 17th birthday. We went on a huge shopping spree and I had made my friends stop at a secondhand vintage store with me on the way back home, which is where I found the navy blue shirt. My family had never had a ton of money, so I was always searching for the best deals.
The shirt had a ton of meaning to me, still. It was the only thing I had left of home. All my old friends started rumors about me and started calling me a skank, which is why I moved, but beside the point, that shirt was the only thing I had left of what I used to know. Everything is so unfamiliar here. The move was terrifying, my parents calling me into the kitchen to announce some “news” they had for me, after I had come home crying for the third week straight.
“Honey, you’re moving. All of this trauma is unhealthy for such a young girl.” My mom had said.
“Wait, I’m moving?” I had squeaked out. Then she turned to my step-dad, Ryan, giving his hand a small squeeze, while nodding at me. She informed me I would be living with my aunt Karen in New Jersey, for junior year, seeing how I liked it here.
My phone making a little beep snapped me out of my thoughts. I scooped it up and drew the unlock pattern.
MOM: Have a GREAT first day I love you sweetheart! J
Typing a quick “thank you” I threw my phone back onto my bed and turned my flat iron on. I unzipped the flower makeup bag my mom had given me before I left. Going through the contents of the bag, I found my liquid foundation and smeared a little on my face with my hands as I blended it out. I still had most of my summer tan, which set off my hazel eyes and the flicks of blonde highlights in my brown hair. They always call the pretty girls the skanks, is what my Aunt Karen told me, smiling.
I ran a brush through my hair quickly, and clamped the flat iron to my hair, slid it through my hair quickly and put in some shine spray. Swiping on some blush and mascara, along with some neutral brown eye shadow and a thin line of black eyeliner across my top lid, I quickly zipped my makeup bag up, realizing I was already running late.
Grabbing my overly-full purple backpack, I threw it over my shoulders and glided down the stairs.
“Bye Aunt Karen!” I yelled up the stairs.
“Have a great first day, hun!” Yelled down the twenty-something year old lady.
Realizing I only had two minutes to catch a bus that was five blocks away was not fun. At all. I jogged, probably looking mental, since I couldn’t run very well in the first place, adding in my backpack made me look like I was waddling, like a penguin. Pretty sure the neighbors got a kick out of that. I jumped up the curb and jogged a few more steps, panting I halted, just making it as the big yellow school bus pulled up.
Taking the steps two at a time, I sat next to a quiet, introverted, pretty looking girl. She had pale skin and delicate looking freckles. Her reddish brown hair was spun into a braid that dripped down her shoulder like a waterfall. She is the kind of girl every girl wanted to look like, not fake, but naturally beautiful.
I pulled my schedule out of the front pocket of my backpack, I examined it.
Tapping the girl on the shoulder I said “Hey, I’m ShyAnn.”
“Hi, I’m Rachel.” She said in a melodic voice, sharing a small smile.
“Do you have any classes with me?” I asked her.
She pointed to my schedule, “First hour, fourth hour, lunch, and last hour.” She informed me.
I breathed in relief. A friend, hopefully. “I can show you around if you want.” She offered casually.
“Yes, please.” I smiled, showing my recently braces free teeth. The bus pulled to a stop at a nice looking court yard, the bus driver pulling the switch that opened the door. I got off as did everyone else.
Scanning the courtyard, this schools social circle seemed pretty… typical, boring, expected.
Eyeing the girls playing guitar drinking Arizona, you could guess what group they belonged to, the hipsters. They guys sitting next to them probably were too, and the girls in the little tight skirts hanging with the guys that looked like they walked straight out of a magazine, probably were the popular groups. The guys and girls wearing all black and makeup, the ghetto people doing drugs in the corner… typical.
“Rachel?” I turned to her.
“Yeah?”
“Can you help me find my locker? Um, 1204…” I read off my schedule.
“Course.” She motioned me over. I followed obediently. She opened the doors of the school and we walked through a hallway lined with green lockers. She made a sharp edge around a corner and led me down a stairwell. I followed her down to the first of the three floors. Still striding ahead of me, she stopped at a green locker that was almost as tall as me, but like that was hard, I was only five feet tall. I hurried and caught up to Rachel.
I twisted my lock to the right, then the left, and it opened. I dropped my stuff on the floor and got down on my knees dropping my stuff in my locker. I grabbed my binder and my text book for my first class, Biology. Luckily Rachel was in that class and she could show me where it was.
The bell rang, which meant there was only a minute left to get to class.
“Crap, I have to go to the bathroom.” I whined.
Rachel looked worried “I can’t be tardy on the first day…” she murmured.
“Go without me, I’ll be fine!” I instructed.
She scurried off to class, I laughed at her goody-good attitude. Looking at my schedule my class was on the third floor, so I walked up to the main floor, searching for a restroom. The final bell rang; I let out a nervous breath and finally found a bathroom. I steadied myself while scanning my reflection in the bathroom mirror; I splashed some cold water on my face, realizing only then how nervous I was. I quickly went to the bathroom and washed my hands, taking one more glance in the mirror to make sure I looked somewhat alright, and left.
Walking through the hallway I realized I wasn’t the only one not in class. I heard two male voices laughing and yelling at each other. I heard their footsteps coming closer and I saw two boys jumping on each other’s backs, and just being guys. The hotter one slapped the other guys stomach as they departed, and he came toward me.
“Hey, baby!” He yelled, chuckling.
I kept walking, which he probably didn’t expect.
“I said, hey! Chick are you deaf?” He jogged up to me. I spun around on my heels.
“First of all, my name is not baby. Second of all, my name is ShyAnn, Ann to my friends, so you can call me ShyAnn. Third of all, I don’t adore those little pet names you probably call all the other girls, because honestly, I know how your type works. And I want nothing to do with you.”
Heat rose to my cheeks as I realized what I just said.
“What?” He asked, bewildered.
“Did I stutter?” I shot back, infuriated with his “bow down, I’m hot attitude. He reminded me of my ex-boyfriend, which is probably why I lost my temper so badly.
“Listen here, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m Trevor Webb! No one talks to me like that!” He seethed down with me, his green eyes locked with my brown ones.
“No, no, no. You listen here, Trevor. I know your type, you’re a heartbreaker, a player.” I spat. I stood on my tip toes and blew into his ear, making his shiver in all the right places. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Player. I’m the coach.”