The incessant tapping on my window was becoming more and more unbearable as it slowly pulled me out of the midst of my dream. With a groan I sat up, only half conscious, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Squinting my eyes, I tried to adjust them to darkness of my bedroom, and slowly padded my feet across the soft, plush carpet. I pulled the curtains aside with haste, flinching in preparation of the harsh morning sunlight, only to realize moments later that my attempts were in vain.

The rain pelted mercilessly against my bedroom window, and thick, dark clouds were heavily draped across the sky above, blocking any possible sign of sunlight. Down below, I could see the tarp covering the swimming pool, meaning that my father had already prepared for the downpour, as usual.

Flinching as the cold air pricked at my skin, I hastily shut the curtains and turned to go back to the warm confines of my bed. I tapped the home button of my cell phone for a quick time check to estimate the amount of hours I had left before beginning my morning routine and hissed as the harsh, artificial light assaulted my face. After nearly dropping my phone, my eyes had finally adjusted, but not before I noticed three large, worrisome digits that managed to fully shake me out of my stupor.

It was 6:27 am, nearly an hour later than the time I usually woke up.

Panic bubbled in my system as I hurriedly ran through the steps I’d have to skip in my morning routine in order to arrive at school on time. Running towards the door I flicked on the light switch and bolted towards my closet. Times like these I really regretted having such a massive closet.

       The closet itself was about half the size of a regular bedroom, and was my favourite place in the house. I took pride in the way it was designed to mirror the interior of a shopping centre, with the ceiling being divided into two to meet at the highest point in the room, akin to a triangle. Tall custom cabinets framed the interior, housing my meticulously placed clothing according to dress codes, drawers that revealed sections of jewellery collected over the years and at the very centre, a rounded revolving podium that displayed my shoes. More or less, my closet was every fashionista’s wet dream.

Completely disregarding my organization skills, I tore through the silver hangers in search of my school uniform and blazer, and carelessly plucked a pair of pumps off their display, knocking a pair of Jimmy Choo’s to the floor in the process.

Dumping my outfit on the bed, I made my way to my ensuite and allowed the warm water to stream down my body and successfully coax me into slowing my pace. Thankfully I had already washed and dried my hair the evening before, and all that was left to do was to curl it lightly. I tugged a hair tie onto my wrist and switched on my curling iron, leaving it to heat up as I threw on my school’s mandatory uniform of a crisp, white, short sleeved button up shirt and dark blue skirt and the matching blazer to keep me warm.

On a normal day, I would have been able to leisurely perform my daily tasks given the extra hour, however today I was forced to do them at a slightly quicker pace. If I hadn't been hurrying to perfect my Literature assignment just a few hours ago, I would not have forgotten to switch my cell phone to loud and my alarm would have awoken me at its designated time.

After curling my hair slightly, I slipped my feet into the pair of nude pumps, grabbed my usual purse and dropped my cell phone inside. Scrambling down the stairs, careful not to plummet to the bottom with a slip of my heels, I bolted for the door, thankful that I wasn't the slightest bit hungry as I skipped breakfast, but not before my mother made me halt in my tracks.

        “Why in heaven’s name are you causing such a ruckus at this ungodly hour of the morning?” called my mother from the dining room, behind the morning’s newspaper, a cup of steaming hazelnut coffee in a travel-proof mug to her right.

“I’m late mom, I really have to go.”

She dropped the newspaper and smirked at me slightly. “You have forty minutes to get to school- which by the way, is only a sixteen minute drive away, but in this weather, it’ll probably be twenty-five.”

“You find this highly amusing don’t you?”

“Why yes, I do dear daughter. It’s not every day you get to see your scarily organized daughter out of her element” she said with an amused smile, causing me to roll my eyes in fake annoyance.

“It was a rhetorical question and you know it” I lamely countered, eyeing the to-go coffee with lust.

“Where’s that boyfriend of yours anyways? Jason- was it?” she said, purposely getting his name wrong. “And is chivalry honestly that dead?” she asked rhetorically as she followed my line of sight. I kept my mouth shut and waited for her to continue, finally meeting her eyes. “What kind of boyfriend doesn't pick his girlfriend up for school?”

“I've explained this to you a dozen times mom” I said crossing my arms, “Jared lives at least fifteen minutes on the opposite side of school, meaning that he’d have to pass the school to come get me, adding a ridiculously unnecessary half hour to his route”

Grabbing the coffee that I assumed was meant for me, I noticed her pyjama clad body and her long blonde hair that resembled my own, as well as her warm green eyes that shone beneath her reading glasses. “Are you home today?” I questioned curiously.

My father was a meteorologist and weatherman for the evening news and my mother was a surgeon- both high paying jobs which allowed my lavish lifestyle, but unfortunately required long hours absent from home. Whereas dad’s job was based on a strict nine am to five pm schedule, mom’s required sporadic shifts and many late nights that sometimes turned into mornings.

“Nope” she said popping the ‘p’ as I so often did, “I have an afternoon shift, meaning I get the morning off, unless of course, they decide to call me in again.” Mom rarely had unplanned days off, and most likely had to schedule her vacation days months in advance. “You know that hospital can’t operate without me” she said cockily, both figuratively and literally.

“I don’t know how you manage to save lives when you barely have time to contain your ego” I said rolling my eyes in amusement “Anyways, I should probably get going. Tell dad thanks for warning me of this wonderful weather.” I muttered sarcastically, still a bit ruffled from my morning’s rushed routine, and gave my mother a goodbye kiss on the cheek as she laughed lightly at my upset state.

        I arrived at school with nearly fifteen minutes to spare, and instead of feeling thankful; I huffed in annoyance at my unnecessary rushing.  Before exiting my white convertible, I checked my cell phone notifications and smirked when I noticed that I had seventeen unread messages. Skimming through, I searched for a particular sender and my smile dropped when Jared wasn't included in my unread inbox. Jared had been extra busy with school and football training lately, and we barely communicated over the weekend, but I brushed it off and decided that we would schedule a much needed date night soon. Noticing a text from my mother, I sipped my coffee as I read her message.

‘One low-fat hazelnut coffee, with a dash of skimmed milk, no sugar and made with a little love. Just the way you like it, which is absolutely disgusting by the way - Mom ’

Finishing my coffee with a delighted smile, I sent her a quick thanks and exited my car, carefully avoiding the puddles of accumulated water and silently thanking the rain for stopping, if only for a short period of time according to the still overcast sky.

******

Mr Lachey was wearing my curtains.

I was sure of it.

The dark blue shirt with lilac polka dots that was messily tucked into his plain black trousers was an exact replica of the curtains my aunt had bought me last Christmas. The fabric looked like the exact same smooth satin finish and I had to stuff my fist against my mouth to stifle my laughter.

My day was going smoothly, the morning chaos just a small blip on my radar, that was until Literature rolled around and I realized that my Literature assignment- the core of my problems- seemed to be nowhere in sight. Disappointment flowed through me as I dropped my shoulders and rested my head on my desk with a loud groan, gaining the attention of my fellow classmates.

“Georgina Holden” I flinched upon hearing the use of full name, hearing the taunt in Mr Lachey’s voice, as if he had already expected my predicament. I couldn’t blame him, I rarely handed in my assignments on time, but the one time that it was completed and assembled neatly in a polished folder, it rested in its previous place on my desk.

In my bedroom

At home

Not here.

“Well you see sir- I began, but Mr Lachey rudely stopped me mid-sentence.

“Miss Holden, let me save you from one of your infamous excuses and remind you that this project has the ability to either salvage or drop your final grade” he said icily “and seeing as you’re barely scraping by with a C-, I must advise you to choose your next words carefully” he glowered, reminding me slightly of Professor Snape from Harry Potter, except Mr Lachey was far from becoming a sweetheart in my eyes.

Summoning my tone to come across as polite, I tried once more to explain, only to be cut off once more. “Furthermore, I do not understand how you've managed to weasel yourself into the good graces of your other teachers, but I cannot and I will not allow you to continue to drop the class grade” Mr Lachey’s voice had risen significantly towards the end of his dramatic mini-speech and had successfully attracted the attention of the entire class. It was a very uncommon occurrence that the infamous Georgia Holden was scolded by a teacher.

Appalled by his sudden outburst, I stood up defiantly, pushing my chair against the wall with a loud ‘thud.’ Anger at his lack of faith in me and his clear disdain pushed whatever small amount of embarrassment I felt to a far corner and coursed through my veins. My choice of heels had given me a few extra inches, but Mr Lachey was relatively short, therefore allowing us to be eye-to-eye. I was pretty sure that my cheeks were tinted pink but I tried to maintain an otherwise calm exterior.

I gathered my belongings and headed straight for the door, pushing past Mr Lachey with my head held high. Snickers erupted in a chain reaction behind me, making me falter in my steps. I could not let my name be dragged through mud. I had a reputation to maintain and it would not be tainted. Not by anyone, not even someone who has some semblance of power over my academic future.

I spun around, welcoming my anger and embarrassment to bubble over the surface. I walked towards Mr Lachey, scrutinising his outfit from head to toe. My face scrunched up in disdain as I channeled all my emotions into my deadly blow, disregarding the rational part of my brain that told me to leave it be, and uttered the words that I would most likely regret later on.

“I will not stand here and allow some inferior specimen such as yourself to degrade my name. For your information I worked my butt off on your stupid assignment but before you even heard my excuse, you judged me so hard Judge Judy would be jealous” I was on fire, but I wasn’t stopping there, the words flowed out of my mouth on impulse, like I usually spoke to others who stood in my way, but never to someone with a title.

“You stand here high and mighty with that know it all smirk on your face when in reality we all know that you’re looking for an outlet to express your rage on your wife leaving you but did it ever occur to you, Mr Lachey-” I taunted “that your wife left you because you’re an uptight, smug bastard who has a knack for wearing clothes made out of traditional window treatments?” The words were hot like fire on my tongue as I spat them at Mr Lachey, and pivoted on my heels to make my grand exit.

However, Mr Lachey had other plans for me. I would've found the rapid display of emotions that danced across his face highly amusing, if it wasn't for the coffee I had earlier devoured threatening to make a re-appearance. He rested his hard eyes upon my hair which was cascaded past my shoulders and smirked. It was cold and cynical. The smirk of a man who knows that he’s just won a fight, and boy, I did not like it.

“Please don’t forget Miss Holden-” he paused, saying each word tantalizingly slow “-to tie your hair before you meet with the Headmaster.”

“I guess I’ll see you there, sir.” I spat. And with that, I left the classroom, shoulders rigid and tense, forcing myself to remain calm.

Whipping my phone out, I hastily typed an SOS message to my two best friends, telling them to meet me in the girl’s bathroom on the fourth floor, our usual meeting place whenever we were experiencing a crisis. I had no doubt that they’d already heard of my little “incident” with Mr Lachey, seeing as Radford Preparatory thrived off of gossip and drama, especially since I was involved.

        It was a known fact that whenever there was a scandal within our circle, the girls and I would meet in the bathroom on the fourth floor. Not only was it a long distance from the usual classes, but not many girls used it because they found the lack of proper lighting eerie and tended to stay away, however, the girls and I suspected that it also had something to do with us calling it our own. It was no secret that my friends and I had some sort of supremacy over the rest of the school. They admired us, and we liked being admired.

Radford Preparatory was the third most prestigious institution in the country, thus the uniform. We had been featured in several magazines and countless newspaper articles. All of our fundraisers and events were carded and scouted by both the media and prospective investors.

The rules, however, were peculiar in the sense that ‘the officials’ as we liked to call them, only enforced certain rules. Their carefully scheduled system consisted of a mixture of the student body and on the job trainees. Each member proudly sported a badge. It vaguely resembled a small golden plaque-like object that was adorned with the school’s crest coloured in a deep purple, one of the many indications of their so-called status in our social hierarchy. 

Makeup and jewellery were not allowed in school, yet somehow we were allowed to wear any type of shoe we chose, as long as it was a neutral colour. However the officials had a knack for ensuring that every girl’s hair was tied, because in their eyes it was a sin to wear your hair down.

And God forbid we used our untied hair to start World War III.

        I slammed the door to the bathroom behind me and made my way towards the row of sinks and wall-to-wall mirror. My cheeks were flushed and my light green eyes looked hard and cold due to my dilated pupils. My long blonde hair with subtle highlights was strewn across my shoulders in loose waves. I eyeballed the hair tie on my wrist and threw my hair up in a loose pony tail, not wanting to get into any more trouble than I already was. Leaning slightly on the counter, I studied my reflection, pleased at the resemblance between my mother and myself.

The door slammed open and one of my best friends, Breanna, strolled in. When she saw my frazzled state she leaned on the counter and crossed her arms, waiting for my explanation.

“Don’t you want to wait on Lauren?” I asked, wondering what was taking my other best friend so long.

“She’s not here, we had Geography together and she didn't show up” she stated. Breanna had always been the most outgoing in our little trio, whereas Lauren was more level-headed. If one of us were staying home or playing hooky, we’d usually let the others know, and that’s why I found it odd that Lauren was absent.

“First of all, I thought you’d like to know that Jeffrey Higgins got your little outburst on video so naturally, the whole school already knows” she stated with an agitated eye roll. Breanna hated Jeffrey ever since he featured her in his latest gossip column on our school’s website. “The way you insulted Mr Lachey-” she paused “-priceless.” “Jeffrey got his reaction on video and everything, and now that I think of it, that shirt he's wearing does uncannily match those curtains you had up that one time.”

Breanna seemed pleased- almost amused by the situation that had unfolded only moments ago, but I on the other hand, was internally freaking out.

Never in my life had I been sentenced to the Headmaster’s office, simply because the teachers loved me, and the students dared not cross me.

The bell signalling lunch rang and I pushed myself off the counter, not one hundred per cent ready to deal with the curious glances and gossip.

“Listen, what happened today was legendary” Breanna stated. “Mr Lachey had it coming. No one talks to us like that and gets away with it, remember? Besides, he was way out of bounds to say that to you.” she says pointedly, cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow in my direction. After leaning over to apply a fresh coat of lip gloss and smacking her lips loudly, she continued, “I’m starting to think you’re going soft on me.”

“Please, like that would ever happen” I scoffed.

“Anyways, I gotta run. There’s a certain web geek who has a long overdue smack-around coming his way and you my dear-“ she said, poking a finger to my chest “-just gave me the perfect excuse to initiate.” Giving me a fleeting half hug she left as quickly as she came, in a whirlwind of everything Breanna.

Feisty. Sharp-tongued. Determined.

And I half wished that I could absorb a fraction of her never-ending supply of bravado.

******

// Author's Note:

Hello everyone! Thank your for taking the time to read this novel. I hope you stay for the length of Georgia's journey and watch her character fully develop into something less ... whatever she was in this chapter.

This is my first novel that I've ever decided to share and complete, so please let me know your thoughts, suggestions and critiques- even your random thoughts of the chapter in the comments, and please drop me a quick vote if you're interested in reading more.

Edit: I am fully aware that this must've been the most boring chapter that you've ever read, but please don't give up just yet. This chapter was originally around 4300 words, and after realizing that it was god-awfully too long, I decided to cut it up a bit, and take out the entire bottom half. Thanks to my five loyal readers who read the original chapter- you are the real MVP's and I'm sorry I had to put you through that.

PS. This isn't proofread, sorry in advance! :x

See you next Chapter,

Gabrielle x