1| Senior Year
From elementary to being in love with my female teachers, to moving and seeing him for the first time in high school, Senior year, this is where our forbidden love story, begins.
"Rose! Are you up yet!?" Laurel yells as she barges into my room. I groan and roll over smashing my face in my soft cotton pillow. Nothing is better than just sleeping all day, in a warm comfortable bed. "Come on Rose, you don't want to miss the first day especially since our first hour is Mr. Draxston," Laurel sings. My lovely twin flame, looking identical to me with the same long, naturally curly red hair, bright blue eyes, and the same height 5'4. The only difference between us is that Laurel is a little stockier than I am because she actually plays football and I just run. I admire my best friend from the comfort of my satin sheets as I turn back to mumble in my pillow,
"Yeah don't remind me, it's already hard enough hearing his sarcastic ass comments at practice, what am I going to do for a whole hour in his class?"
"Do you remember third grade, Ms. Fox, you begged Dad to date her because you were obsessed," Laurel giggles as I pick myself up off my bed and tackle her to the floor.
"Just because you play football doesn't mean I can't kick your ass. Why do you always have to relate my silly crushes when I was 9 to my life right now. And let me get this straight I don't like Draxston, I loathe him." I thud back on the bed and cover my face in my thick cotton blanket.
"Come on, Rose," she whines, pulling my blanket off of me as I stare at the ceiling and wonder, where the hell did summer go? Finally, after a brief moment of fighting the urge to fake being sick, I glance up at Laurel's big puppy dog eyes and give in.
"Fine, only for you though," I smile blowing her a kiss.
"I want to see Mr. Franks," Laurel freaks out as she grabs a pillow and waltzes around the room, kissing the pillow. Mr. Franks, our choir teacher, and Laurel has had the hots for since year nine when we first moved here. Scratch that, every girl has the hots for him, besides me of course, not my type.
Now you'd start to wonder why a 25-year-old guy with piercing blue eyes and long dirty blonde hair, with perfect skin, isn't my type? Well, it's because my brain is wired differently from all the other 17-year-old teenage girls, and I swear I was born in the 60s, hence, old soul.
"We all know Laurel," I mutter, dressing in my school outfit, which is a black pair of skinny jeans, ripped in the knees, and my green halter top. I put no effort into making myself look pretty as I tie my tight curls in a low ponytail and apply some mascara on my light eyelashes.
You would also think I was born a towhead because of how light my eyebrows are, and they piss me off because I constantly have to shade them in darker, or else people at school will start taking photos to make memes about me. That's something I'm speaking of from experience because it happened last year.
I physically roll my eyes remembering that horrible day as I stare at my reflection in my bathroom mirror. Something about my look always triggered me, especially my freckles but, my mom used to call them angel dust and I've been loving them a lot lately since she died of cancer 6 months ago.
Laurel and I share a bathroom and when we both get ready for school it's always a hassle, but I don't mind. We always have a concert in there, singing duets into or hairbrushes while I occasionally play the air guitar. Call us nerds or whatever, but it's a twin thing.
"I'll beat you downstairs," Laurel giggles as I run past her and she yells, " You cheater! I didn't say go!" I laugh as I make my way down and see that dad has breakfast laying out on the table. I look at the waffles but all I take is a banana. I've been self-conscious about my weight and I know it's a cliche, and I know I have a problem. I can't seem to hold anything down when I eat more than a banana or something small like that. My dad tells me it's all in my head but my body physically hurts if I eat too much.
"Rosey hun, you sure you don't want any waffles?" He asks, concerned.
"Nope, I'm good," I speak as I cram the banana down my throat. My eating habits have gotten worse since mom died. Sometimes I won't eat anything for a day or so and just drink water and coffee to allow myself to feel full. I guess, I just haven't had an appetite. Laurel on the other hand grabs a plate of waffles and drowns it in syrup as I stand in the corner gagging at the amount of sugar on her plate. At least she has a glass of orange juice, glad she's getting that Vitamin C.
Finally to heading out into dad's black suburban to drive to Westwood High, my reality nightmare.
"Dad, when can I start drivers training? It's not that I don't like you driving us everywhere, but sometimes you're late to work, picking us up and dropping us off to practices. It will be easier on you, if I had a license," I let out as Dad laughs. "Dad, we are 17, don't you think we are old enough?"
"Don't you know how much it costs? If you do it, Laurel's going to do it too, that's around 900 dollars for the both of you, I just don't have that kind of money right now. When you turn 18, you can take the test, it's cheaper and easier," he explains as I just breathe out an annoying sigh and look over at Laurel as she shrugs her shoulders.
The ride to prison remains silent bedsides the outlaw country music my dad listens to on the radio. When we pull into the driveway I'm instantly dreading and feel my heart drop into the empty pits of my stomach, summer is over, hello hell. Laurel and I kiss dad goodbye as we head into the fiery gates, passing all the other demons I have to call my peers for another ten months, yay.
"Senior year, we are finally one of the upperclassmen!!" Laurel screeches as she grabs my hand. I fake smile as I push past all the freshmen too eager to start on a Monday morning.
"I need more coffee," I mumble.
"Good morning Laurel, Rose," Mr. Franks smiles as we pass the choir room.
"Good morning Mr. Franks, I am so excited for third hour. I wrote a song on the piano that I would love to show you," Laurel explains with a giddy smile.
"I'd be happy to hear it," Laurel keeps that precious smile plastered on her face as we walk away and I whisper,
"Hey I have to compete with a lot of other hearty teenage girls wanting Mr. Franks," she whisper screams and I throw my head back laughing in annoyance at what normal teenage girls stress about. Once we approach the Senior hall, I realize my locker is right next to Mr. Draxston's classroom. Great, I think to myself. When Laurel and I arrive at our lockers I make as little noise as I can, hoping he won't come out but Laurel just has to exclaim,
"Oh my gosh, your locker is literally touching Mr. Draxston's classroom."
"Laurel, really, I didn't notice," I sarcastically demand, as I see Mr. Draxston poke his head outside his classroom door and I instantly roll my eyes. With one hand on the door frame, he wears a burgundy shirt with a pair of grey trousers. His dark brown hair is slightly spiked up and I can see the amusement in his brown eyes, behind his 1970s style glasses.
"Well, good morning Ms. Mitchell," he calls out with his famous smirk that annoys me so much. I shut my locker and reply as fakely as I can,
"I see you have first period with me as well as your sister, Laurel," he acknowledges Laurel, as she peeks behind me with her godly smile and mouths OMG at me. I just roll my eyes as Mr. Draxston remains smirking. "It's nice to meet you, Laurel, I hear you are on the football team, you are very brave," complimenting her, she goes on to brag,
"I score more touchdowns in an hour than most of the boys have in their whole career."
"You should come out for track," he suggests as Laurel's smile disappears and she puts her finger on her chin. When Laurel thinks hard, a dimple forms on her right cheek and it's the cutest thing ever.
"Running is not really my thing, but I'll think about it."
"Alright see you two, in first period," he nods at us as I roll my eyes for the third time in the last five minutes.
"Gosh, I really do hate that man," I mutter as I see we have ten minutes until the first bell rings, so Laurel and I decide to meet up with some of our other friends Marissa and Tyler. Tyler has been our friend since we moved here in ninth grade because both of our mom's worked together and Marissa started dating Tyler last year and we all hit it off, our little gang.
"Tyler! Marissa!" Laurel and I yell as we run to hug them.
"How was your summer?" Tyler asks, smiling his cheesy smile and I notice that his normal dark skin got darker.
"Looks like you had some fun in the sun. Our summer was okay, dad had us plant a garden with mom's favorite flowers in the front yard to honor her," I comment with a sad smile.
"Oh, that's so nice. Yeah, Marissa and I basically lived at the pool for the last month of summer. After I met her dad at her sister's quinceanera, we became family," Tyler chuckles as he shows us his tan lines, with his arm around his girl.
"What is your schedule?" Laurel asks Tyler.
"Marissa and I have Mr. Draxston first period and then I have Mr. Franks for second, Mrs. Howell for third and Ms. Klan for fourth, and Mr. Drax again for peer connections last hour. What about you two?"
"Laurel and I have literally the same schedule. We have Mr. Draxston for first period as well, yay, and then Mrs. Opal for second, Mr. Franks for third and Mr. Hames for fourth and we also have Mr. Draxston for peer connections," I respond as the bell rings for first period and we all walk together to Mr. Draxston's classroom.
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