entry #5 | яêfяêѕн

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(Y/n) hated school.

She really, really hated school.

The (h/c)-haired girl muttered a few curses under her breath as her melodic alarm clock jarred her out of her dreams of turning the world into a pillow fantasy, marking the start of a new day. Her pale white curtains fluttered softly from the draft that swept into her room; thankfully, she had remembered to draw them last night. But the thin fabric did little to block the glaring sun from penetrating through the glass window, blinding her.

She turned her head sleepily to glare at her cat-shaped alarm clock. It read 8 o'clock, just one hour before school started. Mustering all her energy and willpower, she untangled her legs from her sheets and forced her body up.

And went down in a flurry of curses and blankets.

"What a wonderful day it is," (Y/n) hissed bitterly as massaged her sore knee from where it hit her bedroom floor. 'Whoever invented mornings should go jump off the Big Ben,' she thought darkly, grimacing at the taste in her mouth. 'I hate waking up...'

Another glance at her clock sent her groaning and moaning as she dragged her heavy body towards the bathroom to freshen up. She made quick work of the nest on top of her head called hair and the weird creases on her face from her sheets.

'Gotta remember to get a new comforter.' She returned her toothbrush and cup to their respective positions on a wall stand. 'Mine might be getting old.'

The girl made her way towards her kitchen, passing her father's bedroom along the way. She spared no look at it, for she knew it was going to be empty, so why waste the energy turning her head?

She immediately made a beeline towards her fridge and dug out a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a bunch of other sandwich ingredients she had no idea what they were but tasted good. 'I should enter Master Chef one day,' (Y/n) mused as she eyed her two-second masterpiece. 'I bet I'd win the fastest cook award.'

'Wait...that's not a thing...'

Shoving the sandwich into her mouth, she made her way back to the bedroom. 'I forgot to get dressed,' the girl realized. 'I'm smart.'

The (e/c)-eyed girl grinned proudly as she threw open her closet. 'The only reason I agreed to attend Fortuna is because they have uniforms. Uniforms huzzah!' Having a strict dress code meant the lazy (Y/n) didn't have to spend any time or energy buying and choosing clothes to wear. She had a whole closet full of ten sets of the same uniform for that very reason; one to wear, another for backup, another for the backup's backup, another for the backup's backup's backup—

"I'm going to be lateee..." she groaned, letting out a very long sigh as she tugged on her tights, wincing as they snapped onto her skin. "Why can't these be a hoodie...and shorts? So annoying..." 'Maybe I should start a petition...nevermind, that's too much work. Imagine voluntarily doing work. Funny.'

She seized her backpack from where it laid slumped over on her floor and swung it onto her shoulders. "Hello, Thursday," (Y/n) half-stumbled half-ran towards her door. "Goodbye...my beautiful home. I'll miss you...!"

Wiping a stray tear from her eyes, she closed the apartment door behind her and locked it. 'Safety first, people!' Then she ran straight from the elevators before any annoying neighbors could come. Don't get her wrong, (Y/n) thought her neighbors were really sweet people. Just a little...nosy sometimes. A lot of times. And loud. She didn't have enough hands to count how many times she heard rather...questionable sounds from next door.

Intense indoor football match sounds. 'Obviously.'

The elevator chimed and the door slowly opened. She prayed fervently internally for the elevator to stop working, slow down, crash—anything. Something for her to use as an excuse to walk slower and not go to school.

But alas, the gods of fortune were not smiling down at her that day. The god of all things academic and boring was.

Sending a swift glare up at the skies and then recoiling at the sharp sunlight that hit her face, (Y/n) trudged towards the bus stop and waited for the next bus to arrive. 'If you're still there, Mr. God,' she prayed. 'Please make the coach never come. If you do, I swear I won't sleep during mass again. I swear on my stash of pillows.'

(A/N: I'm not completely sure, but a coach should mean bus. I think for the narrative, I'll use American terms and for dialogue/thoughts, it'll be the UK version. I'm totally American so please please correct me when I'm wrong.)

Again, it was scientifically proven that the world hated her, and the bus pulled in a few minutes later. The (h/c)-haired girl clicked her tongue in irritation, glaring at the offending pale blue bus while she waited for everyone else to get on and off first, before stepping on.

She rummaged through her pockets, her hand coming free with a handful of loose change and paid the fee, before making her way straight to the back of the bus. She sat down away from everyone else and rested her head against the back of her seat.

Someone sat down next to her when there were so many empty seats to choose from.

'Oh, joy.'

It took all her energy and facial muscles for (Y/n) to stop herself from sighing again or frowning. Fixing her face back into its impassive mask, she propped her face on a hand and turned her phone on. It read 8:15 am, just enough time for the vehicle to bring her to her school grounds in time.

Bored, she scrolled through her mostly empty phone in search of a game she knew Reese had downloaded somewhere. It was safe to say 80% of her applications were downloaded by either the redhead or Lucinda.

Her phone chimed and a notification appeared on her screen. She stared at it for a few moments before tapping on it.

It was a new text message from her good friend Reese—oh joy—and the rest of the group. He had sent an annoying sticker that annoyingly looked like him, with an annoyingly bright grin and red hair.

~ ❀ ~

8:15 am

reesespieces: gooooood morning my fellow plebeians!

parkyercar: what the hell grayson

lucindale: reese are you good?

lucindale: that was a dumb question. of course you're not

isssla.myers: Reese bloody Grayson I will whoop your arse, you tart!

parkyercar: its tOo eArLy

reesespieces: haha too bad so sad

reesespieces: wAkE uP JAs!!!!

me: when he wakes tho i swear

parkyercar: we run

isssla.myers: We throw Grayson

lucindale: we run

reesespieces: uMM what do you mEAn throw me??

jasper.reynolds has logged on

lucindale: well have fun reese

parkyercar: imma go back to sleep

parkyercar: night

isssla.myers: Um.

reesespieces: um hi jas?

me: wait jas no—

jasper.reynolds: Don't worry, I'm not mad :)

reesespieces: eek (N/n) his passive-aggressive smiley is scary!

jasper.reynolds: I woke up at four so it's fine.

me: what the

isssla.myers: Omg

lucindale: jas are you ok?

jasper.reynolds: Why yes, I am. Thank you for asking.

parkyercar: hes not ok

reesespieces: yep

jasper.reynolds: I mean, it's not like I was trying to finish my research paper or anything when someone started making my phone blow up :)

jasper.reynolds: It's not like I nearly spilled my coffee on my laptop. Why would I be mad?

reesespieces: uh

lucindale: it was nice knowing you sweetie. ciao!

lucindale, parkyercar, and isssla.myers has logged off

me: im going to sleep

reesespieces: you're not even at home right now though

me: gnite

jasper.reynolds: So, where were we?

reesepieces: ummm

jasper.reynolds: Ah, my laptop. Shall we continue? :)

reesespieces: (N/n) jAs is aCtiNG sCArY

~ ❀ ~

A snort drew her out of her fixated state. The person next to her was chuckling as he tried to stifle the sound with his hand. She pulled her screen closer to her chest, her head snapping towards him in confusion. 'What's up with this guy?'

A pair of golden eyes locked with hers, amusement dancing in the brilliant orbs. The figure's grin grew wider as he uncrossed his legs and recrossed them, relaxing and leaning his face on his hand. "Hey, (Y/n)."

She stared at him before reeling back into her seat, brandishing her phone up between them like a weapon. "Snowman...begone!"

Kieran laughed and easily plucked the device from her grip. "I beg to differ, koneko-chan," he chuckled. "I'm not a snowman. Or do you have those kinds of tastes?'

"I...(have) no idea...what you're talking about." She relaxed and curled into a ball, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. "Why are you taking the coach...rich boy?" She felt safer in this position under his unnerving gaze. It sent uncomfortable shivers up her spine.

"Am I not allowed to take the coach?" He shot back. "And don't call me that."

"Hey...(you) can't answer a (question)...with a question," she frowned. "(That's) not allowed."

"Why not? I've never heard a rule like that in my life."

"I said so. And you're doing (it) again."

The white-haired male leaned closer to her. She pulled back. Something dark flickered across his face, gone before she could grasp what it was. He leaned back into his seat. "This company's coaches aren't too bad," he said. "It's a nice change from being driven around in a limo all day."

She wrinkled her nose. "Rich boy."

"Like I said, don't call me that."

"Suit yourself." (Y/n) returned her attention to her smartphone, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight of countless text messages bombarding her screen. Jasper was doing a very fine job of scolding Reese, not letting him have a single word in between. Even through text.

Kieran couldn't help but smile into his hand at the girl's expressions. When he had first sat down beside her, it was more because she was the only face he recognized. The strange faces and funny expressions she made while she tapped away on her phone made him smile. That smile soon turned into a cough and then a chuckle as her faces turned more and more bizarre.

But there was still one thing that bothered him.

"You're still up for that date?" He asked in a flirty tone. If the (h/c)-haired girl was affected, she didn't seem to show it. Her only answer was a hum as her fingers flew across the screen, her eyes never leaving the device. The sunlight swallowed the dim light the phone radiated, casting shadows across her face as the bus traveled through the busy streets of Manchester.

He discretely frowned and tried again. "How about Saturday?" Kieran suggested. She nodded, her eyes flickering to his face before returning to her phone. "Wouldn't the library be pretty crowded on days like that? We might not be able to get seats."

Another hum, and (Y/n) nodded distractedly. His frowned deepened, almost into a scowl. But before he could speak, she held up a finger, shushing him.

"One second," she murmured as a call flashed onto her screen and her ringtone played. Kieran bit back his retort and settled down.

"Baby shark doo doo doo doo doo—"

"When I get my hands on him..." she growled as she aggressively accepted the call and raised her phone to her ear. It was her father. "Hello?"

"(Y/n), are you at school?" Her father's deep voice spoke from the device. The background was silent, meaning he was probably at his office already.

"Almost," she replied. "I'm on the...coach. Why?"

"Nothing much." There was a moment of silence, and then her father sighed. "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, sweetheart. Work is hectic and it's only been even more so lately. A new client showed up at the office, and they're a real piece of work, alright."

(Y/n) wasn't usually curious about her father's line of work. But with this uncommon phone call, she decided to make an exception. "What do you mean?"

"They're people of influence, sweetheart. And you know those types are the most difficult to deal with. I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but if it's you, it should be fine"—his voice lowered into a hushed whisper—"It's that politician everyone's been going off about. He came in a few days ago because he wants custody over his estranged son. Isn't that weird or what?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "That's going to...hurt his campaign." At that word, Kieran turned towards the girl slightly in interest.

"Exactly. I never would've pegged him to be the type to have family issues. Then again, no one really seems like what they really are. Speaking of which, how's school treating you, sweetheart?"

"It's okay. The teachers are...really nice."

"Really."

"Mmm. They made me sign up for tutoring, you know."

If she could see him, her father's eyebrows would be raised right now. "Tutoring? What's wrong with your grades?"

"It's not my grades," she explained. "Wait, no, really dad."

"I know, I know," he laughed. "I believe you."

"They say I need more...motivation...or whatnot. So yeah."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Her father let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness it's not something major." She heard another voice call her father in the background. "Sorry, sweetheart. I need to get back to work. I don't know when I'll get home tonight. Have fun in school and call Mike if you need anything, alright?"

"Okay."

"Good bye. I love you, (Y/n)." It was subtle, but a faint smile bloomed on her lips.

"I love you too, dad. Bye..." she slowly pressed the end button and hung up. It was an unspoken rule between them that only she could hang up.

Then she remembered Kieran. Turning to him, she said, "Sorry about...that. It's...my dad. What were you saying...?"

He blinked slowly at her in bewilderment before he instantly rearranged his features into a pleasant smile. "When will we meet up?" He asked. "I was asking you if we should change the meeting place. It'll get crowded."

Too tired and lazy to argue, the (h/c)-haired girl nodded. "Okay. Where are you thinking of?"

"My h—" he cut himself off and then continued without missing a beat. "How about my dorm?" The white-haired male suggested. "I share a whole floor with a few other guys. I promise you it'll be quiet."

She thought for a while before nodding. "Okay. How about Saturday?"

He flashed a blinding smile at her. "It's a date."

"It's a work day—" (Y/n) tried to correct him.

"It's a date." His smile and tone left no room for argument. She sighed and gave up. 'Whatever floats his boat...'

The bus came to a spot before the majestic, wrought iron gates of their school. Most of the passengers had already left some stops before, and the two of them were the only ones left on the vehicle.

She gathered her things and stood up. "Excuse me," she motioned towards his long legs that were stretched out in front of him.

"You're excused," Kieran smirked up at her. Even sitting, his head reached her chin. The (h/c)-haired girl rolled her eyes and tried to step over his legs, only to amazingly fail and trip over them, conveniently landing across his land.

"You know, if you wanted to get on top of me so badly, you could've asked," the white-haired male said with amusement lacing his voice. (Y/n) scowled and tried to get up, but his hand on her wrist stopped her.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He pulled her to his lap and encircled her waist with his arms. "Didn't you want this? Weren't you playing that distant facade for this? Well, you got it," he leaned closer, his breath fanning over her ear. "Koneko-cha—"

(Y/n) ripped his hand off her as if burned and tumbled off him. She leaped to her feet and dusted herself off. For once in her lip, her face was twisted willingly into an actual glare.

"Please don't do that again," she said coldly, her voice no longer hushed and drowsy. "Again, I have no idea what you're talking about. We are work partners and just that. Please don't take me for one of your girlfriends, got it? Thank you. I'll see you in English."

With one last glare at him, the (h/c)-haired girl thanked the impatient bus driver and hopped off the bus, leaving the white-haired male behind wallowing in his shock and the silence.

His bewilderment was soon replaced with a scornful look. 'The heck is up with that girl?' He rose to his feet and also exited the bus. The vehicle drove away as he began making his way through the gates and throng of squealing girls waiting for him.

There was no longer the mild amusement he felt at the mention of (Y/n)'s name. It was now replaced with a feeling of annoyance, anger, and confusion.

'She's such a freak.'

AUTUMN:HALL

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мσяηïηg

(Y/n) slid into her seat near the windows just before the bell rang. She let out a sigh of relief and plopped her bag onto the table, but didn't make a move to take out her supplies. As much as she loved Mrs. Richards, she did not enjoy having math class first thing in the morning.

Reese took his usual seat beside her and flashed her a cheeky grin. "Why, how nice to see you so cheerful this pleasant morning!" He chirped energetically. "That makes two of us. We match!"

"How nice," she drawled, not sounding very cheerful at all. "What possessed you...to spam the chat so early...? You know they...live in the dorms..."

"I've appointed myself as their wake up call," the redhead grinned as he rocked back in his chair. "I guess I'm not getting paid for it...but who cares! I get to annoy them! Haha, that's all that matters." He placed his hands triumphantly on his waist and struck a proud pose.

She was completely unmoved. "That's great, Reese. Almost as amazing as...Jas' lectures..."

Just as she'd expected, his face morphed into a grimace. "Please don't remind me," he shuddered. "Even over text, he sounded scary. How did he do that? I need to know. Do you think he's still mad at me? Will he be mad at me if I ask him to teach me—"

"Good morning, class!" Mrs. Richards said, interrupting the redhead. She clapped her hands sharply and the class' chatter quickly began to die down. Her silver-white hair was twisted into a loose bun behind her head, and a pair of spectacles with a chain attached to them sat on top of her nose. An amiable smile spread across her face as she surveyed the room.

"Everyone's here!" She declared in satisfaction. "Oh, how wonderful. And you all are on time for your most favorite subject of all...drumroll please..." A few students decided to amuse the elderly woman by drumming on their desks. "Math! Isn't calculus just so adorable?"

'If by adorable she means a pain in the butt,' (Y/n) thought. 'Then yeah, it's a bunch of that.'

"Take out your textbooks please, and we'll continue from where we left off yesterday. Quickly now!" She clapped her hands again. "Class is only an hour, so short, and we never seem to have enough time." She waited for the students to open their books to the correct page before speaking again.

"If memory serves me right," Mrs. Richards began, her blue eyes traveling across the room. A few students shrank down, not wanting to be called on. Her face brightened in recognition as her gaze landed on someone.

"Please don't be me, please don't be me," (Y/n) heard Reese chant under his breath as if it was a mantra. "God please no, I didn't do the homework...oh god, she knows..."

'This tomato child though.'

"Tristan!" The teacher said finally.

The class let out a sigh of relief simultaneously, a few also letting out quiet squeals and sharp intakes of breath. A blue-haired student rose to his feet in the front row.

"You were interrupted by the bell yesterday, weren't you, dear?" Mrs. Richards asked, gesturing towards the blackboard. "If you may, please demonstrate to the class how to solve the problem on the bottom of page 821."

The male pushed his glasses up his nose. "Yes, madam." He went straight for the front of the room without sparing a glance for anyone around him and picked up the chalk. His movements were unfettered and smooth, as if by instinct. Neat, little white letters and numbers appeared on the dark board, marching in straight lines and rows as he quickly worked out the solution.

(Y/n) became bored of watching him write and returned her attention to the opened book before her. She stared at it before bursting into laughter. Internally. Like I'm ever going to actually do work, she snorted. Hilarious, expecting me to solve this. Next time, Mr. Textbook Maker, use English.

"Finished," the blue-haired male said, setting down his piece of chalk and turning around, allowing her to get a clear look at his face. He stood erect, his hands by his sides, and his uniform perfectly ironed and crisp. The male's light blue hair was neat, though she could see tousled spots in places his hair refused to stay in place. His eyes were a beautiful blue, neither too dark or too light, much to her surprise. Yet they held an iciness in them she'd never expect in a high school student.

Mrs. Richards inspected his work with a calculating look in her eye before a smile broke across her face. "Perfect like always, Tristan," she complimented him with a nod, drawing a series of awed gasps. "Could you explain it to the class?"

"What's with them?" Reese scoffed. "It wasn't even that hard."

Tristan straightened and turned his sharp eyes back to the blackboard. "For part one," he began. "The area is..." His explanation was lost on (Y/n)'s ears as she tunes out her surroundings and rested her head in her arms. Tired and bored, she surrendered herself to the blissful embrace of the entity named sleep.

Beside her, Reese had an unpleasant look on his normally cheerful face as he glared at his work and then Tristan's. In the second part of the problem, he had made a mistake, resulting in an incorrect answer where the other male's was perfect.

"Good work," Mrs. Richards said when he finished. "You make take a seat." He nodded and returned to his former position. "Now, did you all get that? No? Well, it's my job to teach it so listen up everyone! Turn to the next page and let us begin our new unit..."

Gosh, math is such a b—joy.