Ohhh… Transfer boy is from Ireland. So that explains his unique and sexy accent.
After introducing himself, transfer boy gracefully walked to the back of the classroom where the last empty seat was – beside me. I cupped my face as I observed his actions through my peripheral vision while I tug at my strawberry blonde curls to act like I was busy (and listening to Ms. Joanne babbling about the origin of man).
He had his full attention to the board and jotted down notes with his airpods on. Where was the other one anyway? Maybe he didn't actually lose it and had it tucked away in his backpack or something because he seems unfazed by the fact only one pod is in his ear. Who the fuck uses just one pod anyway? If I had one, I'm definitely not taking them off even if nothing was playing.
His side-view was undeniably as fascinating even at side glances. A perfectly sculpted jawline curved down to his throat where a noticeable adam's apple bulged, his collarbones jutting from the thin shirt looked so tempting it was hard not to get caught up in drinking him in all his glory.
The bully at the front – Peter Smith, Shara's twin and football star rookie – threw him some crudely made paper plane directly smacking his face then landing to the floor just beneath his desk like a dead fly. Transfer boy picked it up and unfolded the creases to find something written. I craned my neck to see what it read but could not risk being discovered that I was watching him so I kept on with just side glances.
He looked at his right where the bully gang sat. Peter and his crew of bully jocks snickered at transfer boy and made faces, widening their eyes further by spreading their lower and upper eyelids with their fingers. It's a miracle these kinds of people even make it to high school because seriously speaking I don't think their brains are as fully developed for higher education.
I didn't notice how long I was already staring at him when he turned to take a look at me, the girl who smothered his shirt with tears and snot to make him look like the antagonist of the class. He showed me the piece of paper with the bad handwriting you'd think Peter was still a pre-school child learning to scribble his first ABCs and 123s.
'FUCK OFF WEIRD EYES, DO NOT MESS WITH MISSY' it said in bold red ink and a doodle of transfer boy with his eye's overly-exaggerated as big orbs of green and blue.
Really gotta hand it to the bullies to make it clear to him who is boss around the campus. The bitch clique and bully jocks might be popular but Missy Collins is the person in charge when she wants to. Yep you heard that right, I just addressed myself in third person, don't bother arguing.
Now I know you might all be thinking why I would be thrilled by the prospect of antagonizing someone by lying or faking things. All I can say is we have different taste in fun. This is my kind of fun. And no one's going to stop me when I want my piece of silent haha.
You might call me quite weird coz I did mention I don't have friends. I'm not really fond of forming bonds with people knowing how my family moves around from place to place. Well, I did have lots of 'fake friends' over the past transferrings from one school to another and it doesn't really end well to have close ties with people who you already know won't be there to stay when you go away. Quite contradicting but you'll come to understand sooner or later.
With this current school though, I have slowly been integrating my lies from all the previous ones making people think I'm cool and trendy and all so approachable. They don't know the real me. The real Missy Collins is a good-for-nothing compulsive liar, who fakes tears and disconcert transferees from another country just to save her ass from being labeled as the one at fault and embarrassing her spotless image of a girl who both excels in academic, sports, and popular with the girls and boys too
He held the piece of paper near his face like it was a wanted poster sign and tore it in half as if he was declaring war against me and not Peter. What the actual fuck? This motherfucker just did that!
Everybody just loves Missy Collins (with a few enemies exempted). The outside fake Missy Collins. I don't really mind that. Afterall, who gives a fuck anyway. Time will come everything you do and have said will be forgotten like the leftover lasagna at the back of the fridge.
But this transfer boy just declared war against me like he didn't know better.
Oh boy, you will regret the day I bumped into you Finn Crosby.