Nature's Law

I sat staring out of my window; the black mist swirled around aimlessly. The night was my favourite time of day; I don’t know why but it was. I could always think better at night, and feel calm, at peace with the world, at night.
There was nothing better to do on a Sunday evening, school was starting up again tomorrow but there was no way that I was looking forward to it.
I could hear Jeanne’s stereo playing an electronic beat at a low volume. I sighed, electronic beats with someone speaking a load of words really fast wasn't music.
Eventually Jeanne’s music stopped and I heard the light switch click, announcing that she would be asleep soon.
I turned my attention back to the glass window, my reflection shining back blankly at me. From the black window even though I couldn’t tell that my eyes were seaweed green or that my hair was fiery red, the only thing that I could tell clearly was that the scar on my collarbone was finally beginning to die; fade into oblivion.
I smiled weakly before my hand reached for the white beaded cord and I pulled down on it, the blind lowering slowly, and eventually covering the entire window. Concealing the night, and all that was in it from me.
***
The next morning first came known to me at 07:00, or so my alarm clock told me. I had never been one for trusting what the cheap Argos alarm clocks told you though. Even so, I sat up, stretched my arm, clicked my ankles so that they didn’t feel all tight and escaped from my bed, the one that looked so comforting and inviting, honestly I just wanted to dive back into it.
Shame I couldn’t.

Instead, I stumbled across my floor and ended up by my wardrobe, the middle door containing a full length mirror; which I stared at aimlessly, as I did most mornings.
My red hair was wavy and messy; like it was every morning, and my green eyes were crinkled up in a reaction to the bright sunlight filtering in from the edges of my blind.
I sighed, not bothering to look any longer at my far to pale skin, which made me look sickly white if I was in the wrong lighting, and that made me go beetroot red when we did ‘circuits’ in PE. I twisted my body to the left so that I could open the segment of my wardrobe that contained all of my school uniform. It was grey; how very invigorating. It really makes you want to rush to get there, doesn’t it?
As I stepped back I caught an extra look at myself in the mirror. The faded red outline of the scar on my collarbone stood out oh so clearly against my skin, and I knew that if I lifted my pyjama top I would see a long pink scar stretching across my abdomen.
I pulled the white polo shirt over my head, fixing the collar slightly as I reached for the thin V-neck grey jumper and grey skirt which made up Harringston Prepatory Academy’s uniform. I was no way rich enough to attend HPA with my own money, especially as Jeanne attended there as well. We were both there on partial scholarships, Jeanne had her sport and dance and I had my music and science. I was good in science, obviously, the geek I guess, which had made it hard for me to make friends at HPA because most of them were rich and didn’t care about how amazing the school that they attended was. I, on the other hand, was thankful every day.

I heard Mum’s faint voice calling up the stairs for Jeanne and I to hurry up or else we’d be late and ‘who wants to be late on the first day?!’
In my opinion, no one ever wanted the first day to appear in the first place, but that's parents for you; completely clueless.
I picked up three key objects that I owned; make up. I didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but today was the anniversary of that day. The day that I wished to obliterate from my life forever, to never remember ever again.
So much for wishes, ‘ay?
I grudgingly made my way down the white stairs, clutching tightly to the banner as I felt my legs go all jelloid. My legs always did this on the anniversary of that day. Shrinks had told me that it would pass, just my brain being stupid. But, I couldn’t get it out of my head. The maliciousness in his eyes, the look of power and how he just didn’t care what he was doing.
I shook my head, the thoughts flying out of it only to be replaced by the burning question.#
What’s for breakfast?

I always tried to have a good, sensible breakfast. Frosties or Coco Pops, I couldn’t see why people would only want to eat one Nutri-Grain bar for breakfast. Jeanne, no surprise, was one of these people and as I slowly shuffled my way into the living room I heard the daily conversation that she had with Mum.
“Mum?” she began “Can you get me a Nutri-Grain bar?”
“Why do you want one of them? Eat some Coco Pops like your sister”
“EWW! No! Gross!” she complained, as she did every day
“Why?”
“It’s fattening!” she exclaimed, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Well, that's good then.” Mum said coolly “You need a bit of meat on you. You’re just skin and bone” she pulled up Jeanne’s polo shirt and way to revealing grey jumper to prove to her that she was just skin and bone. Her skin clung to every bone, defining it loads. It didn’t look nice and healthy, it looked sickly. As though she was starving herself.
Well, actually, she is starving herself.
Mum glared coldly at her, and after a brief staring contest Jeanne backed down and agreed to eat a bowl of Coco Pops.

“Come on Jeanne! Let’s go already!” I exclaimed angrily, hammering on the bathroom door. How long could it take for one 15 year old girl to re-do her hair and makeup?
Too long, is the answer.
Yes, I know I am a girl, seventeen to be precise, but I don’t take even half of that time to get ready.
“Fine” she sighed heavily, over dramatically, from inside the room as the lock clicked and she left the room. Her blonde hair had many manufactured curl in it and her copper eyes were thickly lined in liquid black with golden shimmer on her lids. She looked as though she was ready to go to a catwalk event in Paris, not for 7 hours at an old school.
As we approached the brown front door, preparing for departure, Mum called out from her ground floor bedroom, wishing us a good first day back.
I fought back an urge to laugh. Was she stupid? The first day back is never a ‘good day’. I should know that by now.
Jeanne shot me a fleeting glance of hate before she set of, small handbag perched on her shoulder as she made extra effort to flick her hips from side to side, trying, no doubt, to attract as much attention as she possibly could.
And, needless to say, she got it. Many of the boys that walked our route to school, the most popular route as it was the quickest to get to both the normal high school and HPA.
As I slowly trudged along the muddy pathway I heard many wolf-whistles preceding me. ‘The same old routine.’ I thought as the thick black mud caked my flat black pumps. I chanced a glance to see what my younger sister was doing. I was meant to be making sure that she got to school ‘safely’ after all.
She was kissing some guy; Johnny Tipp from my English class, I think. Well, needless to say once she left, skipping a couple of paces away from him before resuming her hip swinging swagger, he had turned into a stone statue.
As I approached the spot where Johnny was frozen I made sure to comment on his statue-ness.

I eventually reached the cast rusty iron gates that guarded Harringston Prepatory Academy from the rest of civilisation, and not to my surprise Jeanne was leaning against them, flanked by none other than Holly and Kimmi, her evil minions.
“Running off to the music rooms?” they called sarcastically after me as I walked hurriedly past them. I couldn’t even be asked to give them an answer; Yes.
I tugged down on my jumper, trying to cover my lower half as much as I could. It never really worked, but it made me feel a bit better about how I looked, which was apparently good.
I walked along the crunchy gravel path, a path that I followed most mornings. It led to the music rooms, and more importantly the polished black grand piano that resided there. I had long ago figured that the only way which I could get out of this town was to succeed in music, which meant practising here all of the time seeing as I would never be able to afford my own piano.
I didn’t like the music lessons at this school at all, they were all boring to the extreme and I can’t even begin to explain how much I hate the small weedy man that teaches at this school. Mr Havers was ‘lovingly’ called Weedy by most of the student population, and even a few teachers who also despised him.
As my long ivory fingers skimmed along the black and white keys I became aware to another presence in the room and quickly stopped my piece so that I could see which rude teacher or student had decided to interrupt me.
It wasn't a teacher, but I wasn't quite sure if it was a student either. This school did accommodate for students up to 20 years of age, the founders of the school believed that education was key for all of those up to twenty, so if you went to HPA you stayed for 9 years. Albeit there was 3 parts to the school, the junior section, the phonic section and the sixth form section.
Many of the sixth form students here, which weren’t that many considering how many there are until Bravo year, are also called ‘Alpha’ students. The first letter in the phonic alphabet. Meaning they were at the top, better than the rest. I was a Bravo myself, the last year in the phonic section.
“Can I help you?” I asked. He laughed, his shaggy dusty brown hair moved liquidly with his heads slightest of movements and his almond eyes lighted up with amusement.
“No, not at all” he responded, taking a few steps towards me.
I slided off of the stool and picked up my bag, throwing it over my shoulder.
“Then why are you here?”
“You’re good” he said, ignoring my question completely.
“Thanks” I muttered, knowing that my skin would be turning red as it always did at my slightest embarrassment.
Another reason to hate how pale I was. Although...he seemed pretty pale himself. Not normal pale either, translucent marble pale.
I quickly realised that I was gawking and I snapped my mouth shut fast praying that he hadn’t noticed.
“Why are you here?” I repeated hastily, looking down at my feet to try and disguise the crimson of my cheeks.
I couldn’t see what his facial expression was as he answered but his voice seemed shaky, unnerved. “U-Um I heard you playing from outside so I came in to hear it better?” It sounded as though he was asking to see if that was an okay reason.
I nodded my head slightly, accepting his response and together we walked out of the music room.

“So what’s your name?” he asked me as we began to approach the English rooms, which were as far as you could possibly get from the music rooms.
“Amalia” I stated, pulling open the door that led to the English corridor, the boy pushed passed me jokingly and we continued to stroll down the deserted corridor.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me what my name is?” he asked after a few moments of silence
“Oh. Urm, yeah I guess so. What’s your name?” I asked lamely.
“Scott” he smiled “Scott Hartley.”
“Why hello Scott, Scott Hartley”
He chuckled lamely as we approached my classroom.
“So, I’m guessing you have English now”
I nodded my head.
“Well, I also happen to have English” he smiled a dazzling smile at me. His teeth looked like they were made of ice, yet incredibly strong and the way the light bounced off of them made them look like metal. “Mr Williams” he said as the smile vanished, to be replaced with a frown. Good reasons lay behind his sudden change of persona. Mr Williams was sixty-something and was the strictest teacher at this school. If you so much as whispered once you had crossed the threshold of his classroom you were dead meat, and the next meal in the cafeteria.
“Good luck” I smiled as I pushed open the brown wooden door that led into Miss Frits’ classroom.
“Thanks” he said solemnly before shuffling up the corridor and into Mr Williams’ room.
As I closed the door behind me I suddenly became aware to many people staring at me. I turned around and began walking hurriedly to my seat, where Alice was looking at me; laughter in her eyes
“Three guesses were you were” she chuckled under her breath at the same time Miss Frits said “Thank you for joining us, Miss Gray”
I waved my hand vaguely at her in acknowledgement and smiled weakly as I pulled my books and pencil case out of my bag and placed them neatly on to the table top as Miss Frits resumed her speech about the proper use of punctuation.