They managed to get a convoy to the school without gaining the attention of any press. I don't know how they did it but this was something that would pull down my father's name from the respected man he is. Hell, even if we were a normal family, this would still cause an intense amount of stigma. I'm here because its what the therapist suggested in order to prevent me from hurting myself or others. The only reason that piece of advice wasn't thrown in the trash like every other opinion that lands in my mother's ears was that if something went wrong, the opinion of my father that is portrayed by the press would definitely change and that would be a problem for him. We aren't talking about any random rich business man or some prince from oversees. We are talking about the commander in chief. Mr. President. POTUS.
I don't know much about this school, all I know is that it's for people like me. People with parents in powerful positions who have something wrong with their heads. I don't know why my mom thinks that she could fix me by sending me here. The only reason I agreed to come was because of someone I think about too much. Here's the back story. So there was this girl I met when I was twelve. She was a mess. Emotional, physically, mentally and I loved that about her. She was not like one of those perfect girls with perfect manners that pretended to care about you when all she cared about was how marrying you would pull her up a few steps on the social ladder. The fact that marrying you means she can walk to the nearest louis Vuitton to buy a bag that she would use once and leave in her closet for the rest of its life.
She lacked manners. No seriously. She punched me for touching her hair. I had no idea that girls can be so territorial. I never had a good relationship with my dad so I was used to my mom. I never learnt how to play baseball until I was nine and my secret service gut felt bad and brought his son over to spend time with me. He probably thought he was helping. He really was not. His kid was a major clingy pain in the ass. I mean, yes, I wanted the company but he used to follow me everywhere and he never used to shut up. He hated all the things I liked and tried to get me to read the harry potter book series which I didn't like very much.
My attention is brought back when I hear the sharp clicking of shoes against the floor. I have no idea how I got to the office I was seated in right now. Apparently my body has an auto pilot setting. I look around the office to notice an unnecessarily large shinny mahogany table and a chair that was so large it reminded me of Daenerys' throne in Game of Thrones.
"Mr. Stone. I must say, it's finally nice to meet you." A short stocky old lady that reminded me of the fairy godmother in Shrek said as she walked in.
"The feeling is mutual. I have developed a taste for getting out of the White House every now and then. I think I would benefit from the presence of people my age." I say letting the manners my mother emphasized when I left home answer the question. Its not like I lied.
"I think so too. Your paperwork has been settled. This is the key to your room and there will be someone here to give you a tour of the premises. At 3pm, you are expected to attend a therapy session with the school psychologist to assess the.....issue and I advise you to head to the library to pick up your schedule and books as soon as possible. Preferably before the end of the day."
"Ms. Thywall. There is a fight in the cafeteria." A student who had just walked in said before she realized that she had just interrupted a conversation.
"Perfect. Ms. Price. This is Mr. Kyle stone. Could you do me a favor and show him around the school?" The old woman said seemingly ignoring the mention of a fight as if it were a normal thing. It probably was.
"Sure. But about the fight. Its Kendricks.....which is weird but she looks like she's going to tear someone's limb off." Somehow, Ms. Thywall was still smiling as she slowly rose from her throne looking hair.
"Well then, I better get going. Ms. Price make sure Mr. Stone is well attended to while in your presence." She said as she left the room leaving m alone with the girl who I suspected was some sort of teacher's pet.
"Hi." I offered my hand to her to shake. I assumed it would make it less awkward if I greeted. The greeting was met by a frown and a look of severe judgement which made me a bit self conscious.
"I don't touch strangers. Who are you?" The sudden change of character was something I was used to.
"Kyle Stone." I answered simply.
"I didn't ask what your name was, I asked who you are. What are you attached to? What would make reconsider my decision to leave you here to fend for yourself?" I hadn't expected this question. I was honestly surprised that she didn't know me by face or didn't recognize my name.
"Kyle Stone...as in son of Richard Stone?" And as soon as I said that, her whole demeanor changed. Her posture straightened and her eyes looked at me more attentively.
"Why wouldn't you tell me that as soon as I asked?" She asked with the widest smile on her face revealing a bunch of white perfect teeth
"Well, Ms. Price, I honestly thought that I wouldn't have to introduce myself. I guess even the ignorant have pride." I wait to see the reaction on her face at the stab to her pride and her face fell for a mere second before her expression was schooled back to happy and interested.
"I'm sorry. I last saw a picture of you when you were fourteen. How was is supposed to relate that innocent face to the vision of beauty I can't seem to stop staring at." Flattery. the go to behavior when you seem to have offended someone. It would have worked, but it didn't.
"Shall we?" I said walking to the door and she led the way.
After spending thirty minutes with Winona Price. She seems like your average entitled rich white girl who also was aware of her extreme beauty and walked around like she owned the world. I did notice that she had no hair on her body which may have excited me a little because that's how I liked my women to be.
But she talked too much. Something I couldn't ignore and her voice that seemed to come from her nose was entirely exhausting to listen too.
Finally I was saved by the fact that I needed assessment from the school psychologist and gladly ditched her company.
And there she was. The only reason I wanted to be here. I stared at her and her gaze met mine and then she seemed to ignore me.
Hello, Tamiya.