Rafe observed the girl who shoved him, gave the wrong instructions on purpose, and told him off all in the space of one morning.
They had literally gotten off on the wrong foot.
The rest of the folk in this school seemed normal and decent enough, even if some were a bit dorky or awkward around him. The school had its own football field and invested heavily in its sportsmen which was the only decent news he'd had so far. Talking about football got him out of his funk. At least for now. How strong was the team? He'd have to find out this afternoon. Call it morbid fascination, but he couldn't help but gaze at that girl again when she went to get some ketchup.
At first glance, she looked like your stereotypical nerd straight out of a book: the black-rimmed glasses, modest-length skirt, and carrying around lots of books. On a closer look, she was immaculate. The uniform was a perfect fit, spotless, and ironed. Her skirt, unlike some of the girls in this school, actually reached her knees and was perfectly snug. It made her look older and classier. There was something mature about her with her straight posture and laser-sharp gaze.
Her jet-black hair looked as if it had been ironed, and hung from a high, neat ponytail, not a single hair out of place. No wonder she made such a fuss over a sock.
She sat back down and next to her, a tall, skinny boy slouched and leaned into her as they talked. It was obvious they were talking about him because he was glancing at him from time to time, as was half of the canteen. Seriously, people were a bit barbaric here. Had they never had a student from London before?
After a moment, Nora turned around to look him in the eye and Rafe tried his best to show that this morning's unpleasant meeting was not forgotten. With a devil-may-care attitude, she returned to eating her lunch as if their encounter this morning hadn't even occurred. He briefly wondered what she'd be like in bed. Her neatness made it tempting to mess up that hair and rip off that crisp shirt.
"Who's that girl? She was in our English class this morning," Rafe asked a girl beside him, who, for the last half an hour, had been talking about dying her hair. Her name was Hazel and she said she was from Yorkshire.
She looked in the direction of the table and let out what almost sounded like a snarl.
"Ugh, that weird creature. Her name is Nora, she's half-English and half-Japanese or Chinese or something. No one talks to her. She thinks she's better than everyone because she has the highest grades in school."
"Does she always look so... serious?" He told them briefly what happened that morning.
His newfound friend from the English class, Luke, snorted. "Yes. She kicked the shit out of Fred last year because he tripped on her foot. So, you got off easily I'll tell you that."
"In all fairness, I'm glad she did," Amber said. "He's such a creep."
Amber was a pretty girl, with light brown eyes and long lashes. Her fair skin and faint traces of freckles made her look like a real-life doll.
Jack, the most aggressive-looking guy sneered as he too looked in Nora's direction. "She just needs a good screw. Any girl as uptight as her needs it nice and rough, and then she'll relax."
Hazel burst out laughing, as did several guys at the table. "Jesus Jack," Amber muttered with disapproval.
"We call her Gogo. Have you seen the movie 'Kill Bill'?" Luke asked. Rafe nodded.
"Um...no one except you calls her that Luke, you loser," Hazel said, taking a sip of her water.
She made it painfully obvious that her diet consisted of crackers, apples and water.
"You know the Japanese schoolgirl from the yakuza, Gogo Yubari? The one that had the meteor hammer? Doesn't she remind you of her?" Luke asked with enthusiasm, completely ignoring Hazel.
"Oh yeah, I see what you mean now," Rafe said with a light chuckle. It was a slightly exaggerated nickname but in a way, it fit.
"Luke is obsessed with Tarantino movies," Amber explained.
Rafe recalled that his father had Tarantino around for dinner at their villa in Porto Cervo but he figured he'd never get rid of Luke if he told him that. Plus, at the time Rafe was as high as a kite and instead of enjoying the company of their famous guest he tried his best not to look like a baked vegetable.
From the looks of it, the group that welcomed him enthusiastically was the 'popular' crowd.
This large group consisted of friends mostly from the first football team and the girls' netball team. Some were the third generation of friends as their parents and grandparents came to this school. Apparently, the main requirement of this group was to be good-looking and athletic. And for cases like Henry - funny. A guy named Jonah also seemed popular, but everyone just made jokes about faeces around him, and Rafe had neither the interest nor the patience to ask.
But this popular bunch paled in comparison to the crowds he moved with around the world. Their minds and discussions were limited to the happenings of the town. The places they went to and events they attended could be counted on one hand. In other words, the people here were as dull as the town.
Rafe was beginning to feel claustrophobic. His jet-setting days made his life thrilling. No two days were ever the same, even back in his school in London.
He went back to watching Nora as she stood up, put away her plate, and walked out of the cafeteria without looking back, her friend following close behind. Interestingly she also looked like she didn't want to be in this school any more than he did.
He briefly wondered if she was aware that her attitude made her the talk of the school, and the talk wasn't very flattering. Rafe, who was always popular couldn't imagine being so disliked... or such a recluse. But by the way she handled herself, Rafe guessed that she just simply couldn't give aâ
"Fuck! I have Maths next. With Mr. Atlee. Kill me now," Luke groaned looking at his timetable.
Amber shot him a look. "He's not that bad. You always piss him off, that's why he hates you. What do you have, Rafe?"
Rafe was beginning to think Amber was the mom of this group. "French," he said bored.
Luke raised an eyebrow. "You speak it?"
"No," Rafe sighed, regretting his choice of subjects.
"Why did you take it?"
He shrugged. At the time he didn't even think about what subjects he was taking because he hadn't planned on even taking them seriously. He had a list of people he would pay to get this stuff done for him. "My girlfriend at the time was French. Thought we could do some, you know, 'studying'," Rafe said.
Luke gave Rafe an appreciative slap on the shoulder. "Nice mate. Was she hot?"
"Of course, she was hot. Parisian model, slim legs up to here," Rafe gestured to his ears wistfully, remembering Charlene from one of his steamy summer months. Sacre bleu, that was one smoking lady.
Hazel threw her eyes down at her legs, a gesture that Jack noticed immediately.
"Hazel, your legs only go up to here, and they ain't even slim," he said, poking her hip with a cruel laugh. She reddened and seethed at him, slapping his hand away.
"Go screw yourself, Jack."
Amber propped her chin with her hand and looked at Rafe with curiosity. "So, you said your father expects good grades for you to get out of here. Do you have a plan?"
"Not a clue," Rafe muttered. "I'm so fucked. I hardly speak French. History is boring as hell, and I haven't read a single book required for English Lit."
"What's your fourth subject?"
"Maths," Rafe replied.
Amber bit her lip. "Oh, that's the hardest subject for me. I have no talent for maths."
Rafe shrugged. "Actually, for me, that's the one subject that makes any sense." Only because his father made it clear that to earn money, one has to learn to count money and some more droning on about the importance of maths and logic and of course, finance.
Money did make the world go round apparently. And now without money, his world shrank to the size of Berk. The topic of school subjects and the thought of his authoritative father dampened his mood, and for the rest of their lunch break, Rafe sat pretending to listen to the mundane conversation while contemplating his own situation.
His spending allowance was a joke, and his every move was to be watched and reported by his dorm supervisor. His friends, his girlfriend Maria, his whole life left behind in London. This small town had more farm animals than people. In fact, he didn't even know this place existed until his father nearly stapled the map of England on his forehead in a rage. The school, although impressively big and boasting great sports grounds, was alien and screamed of mediocrity. And his entire dorm was the size of his closet back home.
He ran his hand through his hair. If he didn't produce results by the end of the academic year, god knows how long he would have to be stuck here or what other punishments his father would think of next.