10

Hailey

I stare at the reflection looking back at me; blond hair, big blue eyes, clear pale skin. I look good. That's always been the complement bestowed on me since I was a child.

"What a pretty little girl."

"What lovely hair."

"You have beautiful eyes, Hailey."

Most of the people paying homage to my looks don't get to know me past the veneer. But he does – Brice. He sees me. He's seen the ugly parts and he loves me. He gets me like no one does not even my girls. That's why I love him.

There's a knock on my door. I quickly tie up my hair in a ponytail.

"Hailey, you up yet," Jessica asks.

"Yeah, just gimme a minute."

I smooth down the ponytail that falls midway down my back and open the door. Jessica comes in and falls backward dramatically onto the bed I just made. I want to shout at her but bite my tongue. I hate conflict and I can't afford to lose the few friends I have. In a few weeks, our schooling career is over and the people I've called my friends I'm likely to never see again unless I'm on the socials. I'm ready to start afresh in France with Brice.

"I think your lying on my study notes," I say instead.

She sits up and reaches for the pages behind her, shuffling through them. "Mrs Jones is such a bitch."

"Ugh! I know." I'm rolling my eyes in agreement thinking back to the time she embarrassed me.

**Flashback to 10th grade English Class**

"Does anyone have any questions from the previous passages we read through in our last lesson?" asked Mrs Jones.

Either no one had any or no one dared the arduous ask of why we were learning Elizabethan English in the 21st Century. The English crown isn't what it once was. I heard Mr Le Roux telling my dad that they held no political power or lucrative territories, but they did have money and that's why the world continued to flatter them with their sub-par language and even poorer culture.

His description was quite funny and it pissed off my dad because we are Harpers and originally from the British Isles. It made me like him even more than the fact that he was Brice's dad and a proper gentlemen to me in passing.

"Alright then. Charlondra would you like  to read pages 10 through 12?" Mrs Jones quips moving along with the class.

"I wouldn't like to. But I guess I have to," she mumbles, standing up reluctantly.

The boys at the back snicker.

"Why do we have to study this play in archaic English. Surely we could have afforded class copies of Romeo and Juliet in New English translations?"

Some of the class hums in agreement. Some of the boys chuckle because they are annoying and everything is so damn funny.

"In order to navigate the world of today we have to understand the origin of language and how narrative is built around it. Take for example the term bimbo. Anyone care to give a definition?"

"A dumb blonde?" Tshepo offers, and the boys erupt in another round of laughter.

"Thank you Tshepo. That is the 21st Century understanding  - an unintelligent, attractive woman - the stereotypical blonde. However, it is interesting to note that the term is Italian and bimbo is the masculine term for a male baby or a young male child, the feminine form being bimba.

"Initially bimbo was used to describe an unintelligent, brutish man but in the 1920's it began to be associated with women in pop culture through music and film. By 1929 the term was cited in the Oxford English Dictionary where the definition simply read, 'A woman'. Which is why Donald Trump thought it would be fitting to refer to Megan Kelly as a bimbo in his tweet. Thankfully, more educated minds prevailed when he was called a bimbo in return by those citing it's origin. I will not have any bimbos in my class Mr Mokoena and Ms Harper. Understood?"

The class in stunned into silence. No one is laughing. Charlondra is holding her copy of the original play, her gaze volleying between myself and Mrs Jones as if trying to comprehend what she just witnessed. Her dumb friend is taking notes of god knows what. I'm embarrassed. My cheeks are on fire. I feel like everyone's staring at me.

"Now Charlondra, please continue and be grateful we're not going through the original Greek classics or whatever adaptation they took after."

"At least we don't have to think much at PT. Can you believe they're making us run around the field when we have more important things to worry about... like the Halloween party!" Jessica is grinning like an idiot when I return to the here and now.

I hum but choose not to comment. She doesn't take school as seriously as I do. I used to be like her until that dreadful day which I'm pretty sure I have PTSD from. Brice is also driven and his family are so accomplished. All of those things combined made me feel inadequate even though Mrs Jones was just doing her job  and the Le Roux's have showed me nothing but kindness and love.

"Men rule the money in society, but women are it's gatekeepers" Genevieve, Brice's mom, once told me.

It's why I'm throwing this Halloween party and the reason I've hosted every major party the who's who of our school attend, and many others of equal prestige located in the surrounds. This one's going to be big. It's the last hurrah and I'm going out in style hoping to leave a lasting impression.

"Have you got your outfit planned?" I ask.

"Yes babe, I'm thinking of going as Ariel."

"Because she has red hair?"

"No silly because she's a mermaid, a siren, luring those thirsty sailors to their rocky death with her beauty and voice."

She crosses her legs and belts a note dramatically in my direction.

"That's rather morbid, but very you," I retort shaking my head. Jessica Andrews belongs on the stage.

Drama is her forte and I can envision her as an actress. She has the look, emotional range, and voice of a starlet waiting to be thrust on the big screen for her premier role.

"Have you never heard the original version of the so called fairy-tale?"

"Nope." I head into my wardrobe and pull out a pair of white sneakers, slipping them on and getting ready to head out.

"She gave up her tongue for legs. The witch got to keep her voice and she in turn found walking to be an excruciating experience. Anyway, who do you plan to come as?" she shoots back.

I give her a stunned look over my shoulder, pausing briefly as I ponder on whether to keep it a surprise or share my costume. My excitement wins over and I head back to my wardrobe and pull out a red bodysuit and devil horns.

"Decided to be naughty. I'm tired of being nice," I give her a wink.

"Love it! Bad girls unite!" She playfully claws at me.

"You think Brice will like it?" I ask and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.

"Honey, I don't think you'll ever see that costume again after you wear it. He'll probably rip it off of you to get to the goodies because that material sure isn't gonna hide anything."

She lunges at me playfully making strange animal noises. I laugh because it tickles and Jessica is such a character.

"You're such an animal." I playfully scold.

"Feline inclined." She claws at the air again before placing her hands on her now crossed legs looking unbothered.

I wish I was more like her. Hopefully some of her has rubbed off on me. The good parts that is because she's is wild and carefree with plans to run off to New York, LA, or London. I promise myself to not lose touch with this one.

I want to settle down and have a family with Brice. I want to be a housewife. If school has done anything, it has inspired me not to be a dumb blonde. I'm applying for law because it will be useful for the businesses his family runs and I enjoyed Legally Blonde the way some men enjoyed Top Gun. I don't have to actually practice, but I will be competent if need be.

I close the door behind me as we walk out meeting Jessica Howes and Antonela in the common room of Hawk House. We give each other on the perfunctory kiss on both cheeks in greeting and head for the sports field in our beige sports shorts and sleeveless, white golf shirts.

Charlondra zooms past us at a brisk clip while we stroll to PT which we use to describe the Physical Torture Mr Lyle will put us through. The entire grade is scattered on the field in small groups chatting and stretching. My eyes land on Charlondra and Soleil and I'm not the only one who spots them.

"Look at Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dum wobbling all over the place. At least this is one arena where they cant best us," Jessica Howes says. We call her Aitch in our friendship group since there are two Jessica's.

"Yeah, those two are stuck together thinking they're so much better than everybody else. Like who wants to spend their lives studying? Don't they have better things to do?" Jessica Andrews,  adds.

"Right? I honestly cant wait to go to fashion school and be surrounded by fabrics and models," Antonela says dreamily.

"They're probably applying for something ridiculous like the Ivy Leagues or Standford," says Aitch.

"There's also Oxford and Cambridge in the UK. What makes you think they're going to the US?" counters Antonela.

"What makes you think they won't stay here? Wits and UCT are great universities." I chime in.

"Honey," Jessica wraps an arm around my shoulder. "They are blacks with money. If there's one thing I've learnt in my 18 year life experience is that black people with money do the most – travelling, shopping, clubbing, you get it. No way those two's parents got them into Milton House to send them to Wits," she sputters like the thought of it is offensive.

"I bet you R 1 000 that she ends up in the US," Aitch sticks her hand out in wager. She's always gambling. Their family is in the casino business.

"And you owe me R 1 000 and a weekend stay at your suite in Macau," counters Antonela.

"Oo that's bold. Agreed but if I win I want your beach house in Knysa."

"For what?"

"Why do you need a suite in Macau?"

"Fine. Deal." They shake hands in agreement.

"I'm willing to take a wager on Stanford. I'll put up my apartment in London for the weekend," Jessica says, adding her chips to the table.

"I guess I'm the only patriot rooting for the SA uni's."

"You're being delusional, but we accept your charitable donation if your willing to get in on this," smirks Aitch.

Am I being delusional? I do want Soleil to stay here. Brice has mentioned these same universities before but he doesn't think he'll get in. That's probably why he's gotten so close to her. It's driving me crazy, but I can't come across as a nag. No man wants a nagging wife especially one as attractive as Brice who can have his pick of the litter. I need to relax and stop overthinking.

"Would you be willing to put up the property in Llandudno?" Aitch is like a dealer and I'm nervous to put in any money at the moment.

"Hmmm I don't know-" I'm cut off by Mr Lyle's whistle.

I don't have any properties to offer either after being cutting off by my family. However, my friends don't know that. I have secrets that these girls cant even begin to understand. I keep them buried behind the blonde façade and sweet smile.

I turn to pay attention, grateful that I don't have to explain myself and sincerely wishing Soleil stays here.

***

I manage to get through the classes and the day without having to delve into my family life. I don't have one. Things have always been bad but shit took a turn for the worse when I started dating Brice and he found out what was going on. I'm relieved I don't have to deal with them anymore. I'm happier this year than I've ever been. I feel safe and secure for the first time in forever.

I check my phone for the fiftieth time today and see that Brice still has me on read.

No reply.

As we head to the dining hall my blood hums in excitement. I'm looking forward to seeing him. Everyone's busy in hyper focus for the finals.

"What are you looking at?" Jessica Andrews asks, snatching my phone away from me.

"Give it back you nosey bitch!" I lunge for my cell and grab it back out of her hand.

"My my," she tisks, "someone's testy."

She's staring at me in shock as if I've grown a second head. I blush in embarrassment.

"Sorry. I'm just a little stressed."

"A little? About what or should I say who?"

"Who else?" I shrug.

My love life is public domain and I don't mind that much as long as they don't look too closely at me, my past, or my family. I guess I'm willing to make that sacrifice.

"What's Brice done now? He may be a cool guy but he's still a guy and the default setting on men is dumbass."

I shrug not wanting to sound insecure but I am. I'm not smart like Soleil and I have deep seated issues that I attend therapy for when I'm not in school. I have a psychologist and trauma counselor on speed dial but I've never needed to use them here. School is my safe space.

We gather around the salad bar and pile on various leaves and vegetation. With our Matric Dance so close, I can't afford to make any alterations on my dress.

"Do you think she's pretty?" I ask absentmindedly, pondering whether to add croutons or not.

"Who?" Jessica asks scooping a healthy serving of feta.

I follow her lead and do the same forgetting the croutons.

"Soleil."

"Hmmm... she is, but I doubt she swings that way."

"You mean she's not into white guys?"

"I mean she's not into girls. Why do you think there's something going on with her and Brice?"

"They're study partners. He left me for her."

I shrug leaving her to draw her own conclusions. Once our plates are full, we take our seats at one of the benches as Antonela and Aitch walk in.

"Uhm, I think Brice made a logical decision on that one – no offence. It just makes sense to learn  with someone who's in a much stronger position than you are. I mean Charlondra is not only weird, but anti-social. So, it makes sense he would ask Soleil."

Despite the disclaimer, I am offended.

"I'm smart too, not straight A's smart, but definitely above class average."

"Of course you are babe," Jess bumps me playfully with her shoulder, "you're the smartest one in our group that's for sure."

She pauses and looks over at their table. They're sitting together, a few spaces away from the other group, having lasagna for dinner. I don't think they give a damn about weight or their figures.

"You know men like Brice may mess around with girls like Soleil, but at the end of the day they always choose a Hailey." Jessica is mulling over a thought as she chews, her fork jabbing at thin air. "Buuuut... you know what they say, 'keep your foes close and the competition even closer'."

She winks, stabbing a piece of lettuce and feta violently with a fork before cramming it all into her mouth with a crunch.

I smile at my best friend because even though she can be annoying and catty,  she's always supportive of me.

She's right.

I need to get close to Soleil because Brice is not giving up anything. I've known him long enough to know when to keep pressing and when to quit.

Time for a change of tactics.

♡

Hey readers!

How are you finding the story so far? This is one of my longer scenes at 2.8k words so I hope it was an interesting and satisfying read.

I wanted to showcase the Hailey entity that's has been hovering over Brice and Soleil's flingationship (atm) which meant crafting a character with credible conflict.

(How meshy should I get? Teehee😉)

Writing this book is kinda like a catharsis of my high school experience. I can reflect over certain situations and see things with fresh eyes from a mature and detached perspective.

I think we tend to move in our own cocoons in these cliques we form not really understanding what's driving other people when we stand on the outside looking in.

Ps: Did you do high school right if a teacher didnt just snatch your soul with a clapback?! LOL

Anyway, see you on the next update ;)

Bisou X