Finding Sloane Winters Crazy

Sarah Louise Cook
So little time, so much guys to do.

We all wore our uniforms different ways. Neat, dresses just at the knee, but I guess we all gave it our own little embellishments.

Bess was the perfect scholar girl, her dorky looking glasses (who cared if they were Prada?), her Grosby chunky lace ups, her blazer prim and proper, her bob cut swept behind her ears. There's Kay (who's finally back), with her sparkly red trademark headband and pin straight hair, shiny Mary Janes, and her too small navy jumper. Then there's Sloane, with a measly black hair tie pulling it to the side, and her crinkled blazer, rolled down socks and Dr Marten's school shoes.

Yup, hey. Hello? To the right over here, behind my three fantastic best friends who were amazingly good at what they did. And me?

I had nothing to give (except maybe my body).

I wasn't model tall though, Sloane could've been, but she didn't care for the 'Vogue shit'--as she so eloquently put it-- and loved her sports. Track, cross country and netball. She was Art Captain too, though she only painted and didn't give a fuck about the rest. I wasn't that good with fashion, Kay was the expert. Average height, but a pretty face and a quirky personality. Destined to be the next fashion designer. Bess was destined to be a English Lit professor at Monash University when she was older, or something. Smart with words, she is.

I was destined to be nothing.

Sure, I looked bloody confident--I'd gone without the jumper or blazer, I'd walk into Xavier like it was Glastonbury, like I wasn't affected that my school building just burned to the ground. I'd flashed a smile to any remotely good looking boy I saw (and there were plenty), and I was in front of my fantastic best friends. Bess toddling beside me, looking awed at all the awards and the old Xaverians lined on the wall. Sloane, hunch backed and hands in pockets, hands twitching. Kay, completely oblivious and chatting about the hot surfer boy at the beach in Queensland.

Never mind if I had nothing against my best friends.

I had everything to show.

Eliza Bess Osztreicher
A CUTE GUY WHO PLAYS FOOTY!

I walked through the halls of Xavier College.
Second day.
Sloane is not here.
She’s at my house, setting off the smoke alarms, trying to figure out how they work.

Sarah has ditched me for a boy.
Brilliant.
I feel so loved.
Too much boys.
I need to get out of here right—

“Hey! You!”

I turned around, confused, seeing a bald fat male teacher pointing at me, “Me?”

“Yeah! You!”

Does this guy always have to use exclamation marks?

“Excuse me?” I asked politely, having the urge to get my chopsticks for Culinary Science and stick them up his small nose. Ha ha ha. Sloane will be very proud of me.

He snapped his fingers, pointing to inside the classroom, I followed inside, scared. If this guy decided to rape me I had my pepper spray in my pocket, and also the chopsticks.

I walked in, and my cheeks went red.

There was a guy, sitting on one of the desks, in his glory, smiling cheekily at me, showing his dimples. He looked like an overgrown child, with his curly blonde hair, warm brown eyes, long limbs, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

I glanced back at the teacher.

"I want my lunch, and you're going to sacrifice your spare time for me," Mr. Fat grunted.

“I am?” My eyebrows furrowed.

He nodded, “Yeah blondie,” I winced, my hair wasn’t even that blonde, “You’re going to watch this kid for the rest of lunch, make sure he doesn’t talk or escape.”

“I…” I began, but the teacher already hobbled out of the classroom.

I sat down at the teacher’s desk, hugging my books tightly to my chest, looking everywhere but at that cute guy.

“Hey.” He said, after a while.

I nearly stuttered, his voice was just as perfect as his face, “H-he... llo?”

He chuckled, “The name’s Riley Wilkes.”

Riley.
Riley Wilkes.
Bess.
Bess Wilkes.
Perfect.

“B-Bess. Wil—I mean, Osztreicher.” I turned beat red at what I was about to say.

He didn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you here?” I asked meekly.

“Detention,” He smiled, like it happened every single day, which it probably did, “my friend Teak would’ve been here, but he ain’t got caught. Lucky bastard. He didn’t get caught yesterday either, so he had lunch. Said he had it with some girl.”

“Did he… say which girl?” I asked curiously.

“Some insanely tall girl with brown hair, who sat at our table when nobody does ‘cept for me and Teak.”

“She’s my friend!” I exclaimed, and then blushed again.

He grinned, “Awesome, ain’t it? What’s her name? Selena? Skye? S-something I think.”

“Sloane.”

He nodded. “Is Glastonbury nice?”

“Er… it’s quite alright, I guess,” I nodded.

The bell rang, and Riley stood up, “Catch ya later Bessie!” He gave me a small wave before skipping out.

I blushed at the things that I was currently thinking.