Bad Attitude.

The cafeteria wasn’t too far from the girl’s dormitories. It was in the middle, with the boy’s dorms on the other side. Bryony followed Charlotte, and listened to her spout out information about Mandrid, and filled her in on the latest gossip. She warned her about a group of guys; they all came from wealthy families and Mandrid was their last hope for getting an education. They were trouble, she said more than once. They were cute—but trouble.
Charlotte also came from a wealthy home, but she made it clear that her parents never paid her any attention; she kept to herself. Bryony liked the fact that Charlotte was easy to talk to; back home she had to try hard to get her friends to open up about anything that didn’t revolve around drugs or alcohol.

They came up to another brick building, which looked exactly like the girl’s dormitories but had a sign above two white double doors reading, ‘Cafeteria’.

“Well, here we are.” Charlotte announced when they came to the doors. Bryony took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
When they entered, the sound of chattering and forks scrapping against plates welcomed them. The smell of food hit Bryony’s nose instantly; the sweet and brackish scent brought her stomach to a roar. She stared about and noticed the girls and boys sat on opposite sides of the room. Each student wore the same attire: girl’s and their plaid miniskirts, with white collared shirts with matching plaid ties. The boy’s wore dress coats, with the same shirts and ties, and khaki pants.
As she followed Charlotte to the food line, she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her; when she turned around, she found the majority of the room staring at her. Most of the girls gawked with curious eyes, while the rest glared and whispered to one another. The guys were huddled and speaking amongst themselves. A wolf whistle was heard, and Bryony pulled her cardigan tighter around her small frame. As she did when feeling uncomfortable, she pulled her long, wavy hair to one side of her shoulder.

“You coming?” Charlotte asks Bryony. Noticing her uneasiness, she places a hand on Bryony’s shoulder, whispering into her ear.

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s just curious. They’ll settle down once they’ve had a chance to meet you. Besides, you’ve been the talk of the school since Headmaster West announced your forth coming arrival.”

Bryony nodded, and followed the red headed girl to the food line, where she grabbed a tray. They each got a plate of what seemed to be chicken and dumplings—a food Bryony was more than familiar with. Her mom made it often, which gave her a small reminder of home. She smiled weakly at the plate. Charlotte grabbed two bowls of red Jell-O and made her way to an empty table on the girl’s side. Everyone’s eyes were still on Bryony, but she tried her best to shake the feeling of being watched. Once they were both seated, they begun to eat. Bryony couldn’t wait to get food into her stomach; it was aching from not eating all day. She was afraid to eat breakfast, as her stomach never did good on plane rides.

When she was half way through with her chicken and dumplings, she moved onto her Jell-O. It was cherry flavoured, and exploded onto her taste buds. She loved anything cherry; and right now, it was the only thing calming her nerves.

“Oh god,” Charlotte gasps, applying her eyes to the table. Bryony cocks an eyebrow at her, dropping her spoon.
“What is it?” She inquires, taking in Charlotte’s nervous manner.
“He’s coming over here!” She says, pointing behind Bryony. She turns, and sees a tall boy with shaggy curly hair, strutting over to their table, wearing a smirk.

“Who’s he?” She asks Charlotte, whose cheeks began to redden.
“Harry, he’s with that group I was telling you about. He’s never approached me before, ever! I wonder what he wants.” Bryony thought it strange the way Charlotte was acting; just moments ago she was ranting about how much trouble they were. It seemed like she liked Harry; the way she was blushing was a dead giveaway. What was so special about this boy?

“Hello ladies,” Harry says, placing his hands onto the table and leaning in so he was inches from the girls. Bryony could have sworn she heard Charlotte’s heart beating through her chest. Whatever hold this boy Harry had on her, it was frightening.
“Hi, Harry.” Charlotte gushes, grinning like a love sick puppy. It almost made Bryony’s stomach churn. She looked over at the boy; he kept his eyes on her, ignoring Charlotte completely.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” His eyes were still on her, though his question was directed to Charlotte.

“Yes! This is Bryony. She just transferred from America.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips growing. He continued to eye down Bryony, trailing his eyes up and down the length of her body. This made her uncomfortable, he knew this, but he persisted on making his interest known. But Bryony didn’t feed into his charm; his russet curly locks, and penetrating sea green eyes weren’t winning over her fancy. She decided to ignore him. This didn’t please Harry; his smirk faded.
“America, eh? That’s a long ways away. Why the sudden move?”
Harry took it upon himself to sit down beside the new girl; something was different about her. It sparked an interest in Harry. He’s had the opportunity to know almost every female in Mandird; yet none of them had an air about them like the one surrounding Bryony. He wanted to know more about her—needed to.
But clearly, she wasn’t interested in him. She kept her eyes anywhere but on him. And her reply was short, and dull.

“Wanted a change of scenery.” Sarcasm rolled off her tongue like water spilling from a fountain; she wasn’t op for what this boy had to offer; she couldn’t understand why Charlotte was tripping over herself. She knew guys like him back in L.A. They knew their effect on women, and got away with treating them like tissues—use once, then toss away.

Harry got the hint Bryony was throwing his way. To save his ego from getting wounded any more than it had, he said his farewells and returned to the table where his friends watched his show blow up in his face. One way or another, he’d get Bryony, Miss America, to fall for his charm. No girl could resist him.

“What was that all about?” Bryony asked Charlotte. The red head shook her head, placing a hand to her temple.

“I don’t know what came over me; I guess I fell under the Style’s Spell.”