Never Lose Hope

I skip over to hug her tightly, ignoring the fact a pile of clothes lay cradled in her arms and she sighs, giggling. “Hope, you should really have something to eat before you go. I know you might be nervous, but-”

“I’ll go eat now, mom, don’t worry,” I reply with a smile, elated and full of life.

I’m a morning person. How can you not be? The sun’s rays streaking through the window, giving off a warm orange glow as it rises. My mornings are generally joyful ones, although my constant state is happiness, much to the discontent of a few people I’ve met. Today I am starting a new school, having moved here at the start of summer, and I have made it to my senior year.

Even though starting a new school can be nerve-racking, I can’t seem to bring myself to be scared. I’m just so excited, shaking from my inability to stay still when I’m so excited rather than from anxiety of meeting new people. I’ve done that a lot this past year.

I dressed in a big off shoulder mustard sweater and ripped blue skinny jeans. My cute new backpack is white with cat ears and a cat face on the front, tassels for whiskers. I plaited my ginger red hair into two dutch braids and slapped some brown mascara on to accentuate my green eyes. I always hope that my glasses don’t hide my eyes too much, as they are my best feature in my opinion, but I don’t mind my glasses. They are more circled shaped with a rose gold rim. Finishing off with cherry lip gloss, I grab the cereal box from the kitchen and chug down some out of the box.

“Hope,” my dad scolds, but chuckles as he sees my guilty look from his study chair. “I’m sure that’s not what your mother meant when she said eat some breakfast. What manners did we teach you?” he playfully comments. “Good luck today, not that you’ll need it. They’re the ones who need the luck, just because you’re crazy.”

“I’m not crazy, I’m just happy,” I reply with a wide smile. He smiles back, a genuine smile, a pitiful smile though.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Stop worrying, dad. The car will be fine, I’m totally fine. I gotta go now,” I exclaim, jumping in excitement. “Love you, dad!” I cry as I dash out of the house.

My dad had gotten me my own car, even though certain things have stopped me from driving it. He was hesitant at first, but I begged him for the freedom and took my test with no problems... somehow. The car isn’t expensive or anything, but I’m extremely grateful for it. It’s difficult to thank my parents for the things they do for me, and everything they give me, because they end up teary eyed and hugging me. Although, I love hugs.

I drive my car into the buzzing parking lot, seeing a good available spot with a free space on either side of it. I’m not the best driver, in fact, my old friends said I was awful at driving.

As I look around out the windshield of my car, I stare at the vast array of sports cars around, with hundreds of students in among those cars, guys in designer kicks and Letterman jackets whilst girls in plaid skirts or jeans with big handbags. I know that I’ll stick out like a sore thumb, but I don’t care. Being different isn’t what I’m going for either, but if I am, they just have to accept me.

My parents don’t exactly earn lots of money, not enough to put me in private school for all my high school years but this is my senior year in a new state, in a new city, LA, and they wanted me to go to a private school for this final year. But I am far from rich, and far from designer.

Gathering my stuff from the passenger seat, I open my door with a wide smile, excited to meet new people and start a new year. I want more than anything to graduate, but know it will be difficult as I’m severely lagging behind from all the times we moved last year. I could barely get a handle on the work in junior year as my several teachers started at different places, getting me all muddled. This year will be different. I’ll work extra hard.

Skipping up to the steps, I ignore any look sent my way, feeling so light on my feet that only a single balloon can lift me away. I was told to meet the welcoming committee at the principal’s office so I follow the signs and scurry along, hoping to keep time and make a good first impression.

Knocking on the door with enthusiasm, I hear a muffled ‘come in’ and I enter to be greeted by a small man with thick black rimmed glasses and a bald patch on the top of his head. His polite smile widens when he sees my expression, and he offers me a seat at his desk.

“Miss Matthews, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Principal Daniels,” he announces, shaking my hand from across the table, his hand sweaty and warm. “I’m aware of your situation and I know that you don’t want anyone to know.” I sigh, although keeping my smile. I just want to push past everything else and live in the moment.

He tells me a few of the staff know and that’s it so I nod to that. A couple of students, a guy and girl, enter his office, slouching and huffing.

“Melissa, Freddie, this is Hope. Hope, these two are the welcoming committee. Any help you need, finding classes, a good friend, they’ll be more than happy to help,” the principal exclaims, however the two students don’t share his enthusiasm. I throw them both a big smile which turns their expressions into confusion. “They’ll show you to your locker and then your first class.” I jump up out of my seat in excitement, slightly surprising and alarming all of them, maybe the principal for a different reason. I thank the principal before I follow the welcoming committee.

Melissa and Freddie lead me out, both their faces a little brighter than before.

“It must be a pain welcoming new students, having to let them follow you around for the first few days like lost sheep,” I begin, looking to both of them.

“Most of them are stuck up assholes who need the help but won’t accept any,” Freddie mutters, narrowing his eyes at me. I just smile back, unsure of what his expression is trying to convey. “Why are you smiling? You’re going to school, here. You’re gonna get beat up if they sense weakness.”

“Who are they?” I ask innocently.

“The vultures. The populars. They pray on the weak. Veronica loves some new meat, someone she can bully or someone she can recruit. With that spirit, she might make you a cheerleader. But, with those trainers, maybe not,” Melissa says with a grimace at the word cheerleader. I guess she doesn’t like cheerleaders, or Veronica, probably a popular girl.

“I’m sure she’s not that bad,” I comment.

“She’s the worst,” Freddie declares as a fact. “You seem very innocent, you’ll get led astray.” I furrow my eyebrows and pout. Then I smile again, and roll my eyes.

“I’m not innocent, I’m nice, and happy. There’s a difference,” I reply. “Why do you get made to welcome the new people?” I ask, changing the subject.

“We’re siblings, and the principal’s children,” Freddie says and my mouth forms an ‘oh’ shape. They do all have similarities with each other but I can’t really tell based in appearance that they are related. Melissa has light brown hair as her father’s and the same color eyes to match whilst Freddie’s hair is blonde with grey eyes. Their noses and lips are similar though. “That’s why we’re exempt from Veronica’s wrath. Her dad’s rich so he could make our father do anything, but she doesn’t like playing that card too often. If you stays out of our way, she thinks she’ll be fine. She did bully Melissa before she knew who she was.”

“Wow, that’s horrible,” I say with a sympathetic look towards Melissa.

“Don’t get all pitiful now, it could happen to you,” Melissa says, scolding my sympathy. I shrug to off and continue to walk. “Here we are.” I notice them come to a stop. They both exchange concerned looks at where we’ve stopped but don’t say anything.

“We’re in your first class it looks like,” Freddie says, analysing my schedule. “The class is down the hall, turn right and first class on the left. We have to get to our lockers.” They both begin to walk off, and I thank them, which weirdly surprises, before they continue away.

I struggle with my locker, entering the combination twice already but still no luck of opening it. I patiently try a third time when I hear a cough behind me. I turn myself around to face three guys, big looking guys, all handsome and fit. The one to the right has blonde hair, much like Freddie’s, but it was longer and wavier on top. He has a cheeky smirk plastered on his face and he runs his fingers through his hair. He leans back on his heals, assessing me with raised brows. The guy on the left has black hair and dark skin, wearing a Letterman jacket and hugging a football to his side with one arm. He raises an eyebrow at me as he narrows his eyes. The last guy is scowling at me, anger in his eyes which I am confused about. His dark blue eyes darken as he watches me intently. His dark brown hair is curly on the top of his head whilst the sides are shorter. He wears a leather jacket, as your so-called bad boy would, and I assume these are some of the populars, the guy versions. He’s really very hot, the grey t-shirt under his jacket clinging to her perfectly-sculpted body, his defined abs even showing prominence under the material. Instantly, I give them a wide smile which confuses all three of them.

“Hi, sorry, am I in your way?” I ask politely, looking straight into the eyes of the hot guy in the middle. “I’m Hope, I’m new here.” I step aside for him, but his eyes just follow me.

“Hope,” the blonde guy says, still smirking. “Cute backpack.” I beam at him, to which he chuckles at.

“Thanks,” I reply innocently. “Um...” I say, waiting for a name.

“Tyler,” he says. I can’t help but look over to the bad boy, who seems to be staring at me, unwavering. “This is Malik,” he declares, gesturing to the black-haired boy. “That’s Hunter.” The bad boy’s name is Hunter. That’s cute. I figured he would have a hard name, like Hunter, and it’s really suits him well.

“Did you not need to get to your locker?” I ask Hunter, who hasn’t moved since I moved aside. I smile at him and raise my eyebrows.

“Move,” a female voice from behind me orders, shoving at my shoulder harshly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologize, moving aside for her. I angle myself to face her and somehow instantly know that this girl is Veronica. The way she holds herself with such confidence, her blonde locks cascading over her shoulders perfectly. In fact, everything about her looks perfect, from her clothes, to shoes, to bag, to makeup. Flawless. I beam at her, which she snarls at. And I still feel Hunter’s eyes on me.

Hunter

What the fuck? Even as Veronica stalked over to us, my eyes couldn’t be torn away from this girl. Hope. Her red hair plaited in two braids and her glasses framing her face. They don’t even hide her piercing emerald eyes that are filled with innocence and joy. This girl looks too naive for her own good, too naive to be here, with these rich fucking bitches and fuckboys. I, myself, am one of them. I’m the worst of them, smoking and drinking and partying, no drugs though. Yet this girl is the exact opposite. Her smile is too angelic, too perfect. And she’s always smiling, always... nice. She apologized to me for just trying to get into her own locker. Apologized to Veronica for Veronica’s bitchy ways.

“Hunter,” I hear Veronica scream and my eyes snap away from Hope and to her. She narrows her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. “It’s fucking hard to get your attention. Are you coming to my party Friday night?”

“I already said I was, Veronica,” I answer, uninterested. Sure, I like parties, but I don’t like this bitch. Yet, it appears school custom for us to interact, seeing as we are both ‘popular’.

“Oh yeah, Hope, you should come,” Ty says with his usual cheeky grin. I can tell Ty likes her, maybe because he wants her innocence but there’s no way in hell I’ll let that happen.

“Who’s this?” Veronica says, narrowing her eyes at Hope.

“Hi, I’m Hope. It’s nice to meet you, Veronica. I love your shoes,” Hope announces which surprises me. She isn’t easily intimidated, at all really. I tried staring her down before but I got no response. And I always get a response. They usually cower, letting me do whatever the fuck I want with fear in their eyes but she just stepped aside with a smile on her face and no sign my dominance had worked. I was impressed, and now I’m more so. Veronica raises her eyebrows, a usual bitch expression gracing her face.

“I don’t like yours,” she replies with a sly smirk, staring down to Hope’s old trainers. I roll my eyes at her childish insult. Are we in fucking kindergarten? I actually like them, which is weird because I only wear the best trainers, and those are far from it. But she wears them with a smile that makes everything about her glow.

“Oh, I know, they’re old but sentimental value. At my one of my old schools, my classmates pitched in to buy me a leaving present,” she replies, showing no deflation at Veronica’s insult. I don’t even know if she knows it was an insult. She didn’t even waver one bit.

“Wow, they didn’t care enough to get you good shoes,” she says.

“I went to a state school and I think it’s the thought that counts,” Hope responds with another smile.

“Shoo, I don’t speak to trash like you,” Veronica says, treating like a fucking dog and I feel the urge to growl at her like one.

“Okay, but I need to get to my locker. I don’t mind waiting if you need to get to yours,” Hope says to me, no look of upset or anger in her eyes. Just joy. Maybe this girl is insane, fucking loopy. She’s unaffected, completely.

“I didn’t realize that you hadn’t finished,” I say, stepping aside as she did for me. The boys look to me with a smirk and I roll my eyes at them.

“I was having some problems opening it,” she tells me, fiddling with her lock. “I enter the combination and the lock doesn’t come off.” I take the lock from her hands, slam it against the locker and yank down to open it. “Thanks,” she beams to me.

“It hasn’t been used in a while so it’s bound to get stuck,” I explain and she nods. Placing her jacket in the locker, she closes it again and locks it.

“Thanks for the help. I best shoo off, wouldn’t want to be late,” she declares, still fucking smiling, and skips off down the hall.

I can’t help but stare after her, and her ass. God, she’s fucking hot. She’s so petite but like a little rocket, finding it difficult to stay on the ground. I have never met anyone as happy and bright as her in my entire life, not even as a younger child. Teenagers like her just don’t exist, it’s not possible. Her parents must think she’s a dream. But she can’t really be that... unaffected. She took the insults like a boss, acting like they weren’t even insults at all. That must be a front, she smiles to hide the hurt. But I saw no signs, at all, of her being hurt.

“God, they let anyone in these days,” Veronica sneers. I roll my eyes, such a stuck up bitch.

“I like her, she’s cute,” Ty says, still with the smirk. He is a player, truly wanting to be with every girl in this school by the end of this year. He actually is already quite the way through that challenge. I can’t judge though, as I have been with a fair few girls at this school, actually a lot of girls at this school, including Veronica. What a mistake that was. Hope is different though.

“Cute? She looks weak, and pathetic,” Veronica exclaims. “And you can’t go around inviting people to my party,” she adds, glowering at Ty.

“I like her too,” Malik comments, staring after the way she went. “The kicks were pathetic but she’s definitely cute.”

“Urgh, you lot are useless. We have to keep standards up. You can’t be seen with the likes of her.” Veronica’s friends join her and she walks off with them to her class, giving me the final disapproving look. Thank the fucking Gods the bitch is gone.

“You like her, Hope,” Malik states to me, smirking at little. “You stared at her all that time. She didn’t seem anything but happy though.”

“Hunter’s got a crush,” Ty teases and I whack him in the gut, my arm like a tree trunk knocking the wind out of him. He wheezes but brushes it off. I continue to scowl at him.

“Stop being an idiot, I was just surprised, that’s all,” I reply and both of them roll their eyes.

“Fine then, I like her. I’ll add her to my list,” Ty announces and I scowl at him again, using my domineering glare that he shrugs off. Hope will not be another addition to his fuck list, no way. She is too innocent, too perfect, too naive for that.

We make our way to our respective classes, but my mind is still fixated on Hope, the little angel.