Chapter 1
Hi. I’m Thea Lesley. An eighteen year old girl with the life of an old aunt. My mom is Brazilian but she moved to America to be with my dad. He’s white, tall and intimidating unless he smiles. I had spent most of the night fixing my curls and getting them to look right before school.
Before the weirdest and most boring day of my life. I grip the steering wheel, staring at the red light. I’m in no rush. Mainly because I always leave for school thirty minutes early. Traffic in Bentonfield Arkansas is beyond. I don't let it stop me though and I run my happy self out of the house to be on time.
I’m a straight A student. I have never missed honor roll and I’ve never been late to school. NEVER. I don't plan on it either. Eventually the light finally does turn green and I push on the gas pedal. When I do make it to school, I tuck my purse under the backseat and I check to make sure Tiffany-my annoying older cousin-didn’t stuff any drugs in here when she used my car yesterday.
I check my teeth, my face, and I grab my water bottle then finally step out of my car. In most places, people have bikes and motorcycles. Not in Bentonfield, Arkansas. You can't be that special or that cool down here. Once, some rich guy brought a Lamborghini to the school and when he came back, two of his tires were missing and his windows were shattered. Him and his rich son never came back. His son seemed nice though. He spoke to me for like an hour before his dad barged in, fire coming from his nostrils out of anger, to tell him they weren't coming back.
Cigarettes and smoking weed is legal and okay in school. Not because they wanted it to be, only because people ignored the signs that told them in big bold capital letters, ‘NO SMOKING!!’. I walk to my locker first thing and I make it to my class. It’s already half way filled with some of the other ‘goody-two-shoes’ like me. I take my seat in the front of class, setting my water bottle in between my legs because I don't trust it on this disgusting floor and I also don't trust it on this desk that looks cleaner than it actually is.
I take out ‘Romeo and Juliet' out of my bookbag. Lit (Literature) class is probably one of my favorite classes. It’s not hard to me because half the books the teacher picked, I’ve already read, wanted to read, or was happy to read. “You look so pretty.” I look at my plain long sleeve blue shirt and jeans then look at Bella and she sits next to me holding the same book in her hand.
“Thank you.” I reply. She smiles looking at the book. Examining it.
“I love Shakespeare. What about you?” I shrug.
“He’s not horrible but Sylvia Plath is wonderful to me.” Bella nods in agreement then she looks at me with her innocent doey blue eyes.
“But Sylvia died and that’s very depressing.”
“Not to me.”
“Of course not you. You love what’s already dead.” I don't take offense to Bella’s comment. My first first crush was Kurt Cobain and he’s dead now. Although his wife is very pretty and deserves him more than me, I still love him. “It’s definitely okay Thea. We all have our own toxic problems.” I just nod and she opens her book to read it.
I do the same, putting my water bottle on the floor so I can get comfy while the class fills up with more random people. Until the people are no longer so random. A loud thump comes when my bottle makes contact with the floor and I notice Isaiah Paxton. I look back at him as I pick up my water bottle. When he finally takes his seat, his eyes meet mine.
That cold and ‘I’m so bored’ look is in his eyes. As always. I only talk to Isaiah because I tutor him on the weekends and sometimes after school. I move my water bottle between my feet. In all honesty, I developed a crush on Isaiah way before I tutored him but he’s no good for me.
Besides, he always smells like cigarettes and Irish spring body wash. I hate the smell of smoke. He never talks to me anyway, and he hardly speaks when I tutor him because as he always says, he has better things to do. He only actually takes the time to keep his grades right because he does sports. And without sports, his grades would be haywire.
Soon the teacher walks in, clearing his throat and putting on his reading glasses. He takes a seat at his desk, pulling his sweater off of his skin like always before finally opening the book and making us go so we can do an essay about what we learned. Or sometimes, answering to a worksheet that is filled with questions that you’ll have to answer in paragraphs. I go through class after class after class. Until it’s time to go home. I take my happy self and I shower. Efficiently and forever.
