Chapter 38

"The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell."

Imagine Dragons.

I had no choice.

This tour guide task was my only way out. If I failed to complete what Havisham asked of me, I would surely end up regretting it when my parents found out. Making sure I comprehended that I wasn't off the hook just yet, the Headmistress went through a series of regulations that I must oblige to, in order to make Heather feel welcome. Be nice, introduce her to your friends, show her around the school discreetly, if she's lost and doesn't know where her class is, help her. You know, the basic stuff. The awkward acts of kindness that increased the awkwardness in awkward situations.

When Wyatt saw us together, his jaw dropped. His emerald-green eyes turned dark and his fists clenched at his sides. Blinking several times to make sure that the girl in front of him was real, he then ran a hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief. He looked so broken, so... confused as to why his ex-girlfriend would be here in the first place. At first, he tried avoiding her, not wanting anything to do with the painful past. The past that he clearly wanted to keep separate from the present.

Sadly, when Heather got moved to our form group, there was no way around it. Sitting next to Wyatt every opportunity she got, touching him in the most flirtatious ways, sending him notes in class, biting her lips to him. I had witnessed all these things over the past couple of weeks and let me tell you something, from where I stood, it was unbearable. Going to school was hard enough but to show your friend's ex-girlfriend, who was a complete control-freak, around the school, was too much.

Evidently, Red was curious to know why the perfect boy was being so hostile to the new girl. I gave him a rough explanation to his inquiry (obviously asking for Wyatt's consent) and he seemed to understand pretty quickly that this issue was one of those zero-out-of-ten-would-not-recommended- kinda situation. I mean seriously, how unlucky do you have to be? How pathetic do you have to be to go through something like this?

Heather said that the only reason why she transferred to this school, was because her rich father wanted her to know what's it like to be with- and I'm not kidding, she actually said this- ' the poor people of America, who she normally wouldn't give the time of day.'

I don't think she knew that 'the poor people of America, who she normally wouldn't give the time of day' didn't like her either.

Although Heather has a hideous personality, she was without doubt, really beautiful. Therefore, she quickly rose to become the most popular girl in school.

She has so many options.

So many guys she can pick from.

And yet, she still chooses Wyatt.

...

Coach Sanders' whistle echoes through the gym as sweaty bodies run from one end to the other, breathing heavily. The polished floor squeaks as we sprint, causing me to flinch in irritation. On the upper left, are the P.E. offices, teachers marking mock exams and occasionally looking out the window, red pens suspended in mid-air as the next sentence approaches.

Doors open with a creak and close with a slam, the footsteps arousing our attention. Nevertheless, it fades when we see that it's only another kid who hasn't brought their kit, another kid running upstairs to sit their detention. Those who have permission to be here, sit on the wooden benches, located to the right side. 

In the midst of all this, Coach Sanders watches over us on the far side of the gym. He isn't reluctant to yell at us when we're too slow, or critique on our running if he believes that we lack technique. Checking the time, he then blows his final whistle and orders us to gather round. Obliging, both boys and girls walk over, sitting down on the floor and trying to regain their breath.

This town is small, so there's no point in the school having separate gym classes.

Sanders is a tall, chubby man with a light-blonde stubble across his face and blue eyes. He has a mop of curly, sand-blonde hair, which he likes to put in a man-bun for some reason, and he'll usually have dark sunglasses on his head, which he'll put on when watching us play. He wears the typical royal-blue P.E. uniform and around his neck, is a light-grey whistle.

"Okay kids," Coach Sanders says, "we're playing volleyball today. You're going to get into teams of six. We all know the rules, correct?"

There's a deafening silence.

"Okay, here's a quick summary: maximum of three hits per side, players may not hit the ball twice in succession, a block is not considered a hit, ball may be played off the net during a volley and on a serve and finally, a ball hitting a boundary line is "in." Got it?"

"Did he even breath during any of that?!"

Evidently wanting to get this over with, we all just nod our heads.

"Good!" Coach exclaims. "I'll be picking the teams!"

Groaning, we all stand to our feet to hurry the process. The boys and most of the girls, eager to play and the small minority of girls, wanting the lesson to be over.

"Ally, Amy, Aurora. Austin, Arthur and Alex. Team 1."

The six people mentioned, amble over to the first make-shift court, already discussing a strategy.

"Belle, Britney, Beatrice. Brian, Blake and Brody. Team 2."

"Let's hope we're in the same team," Red whispers, smiling down at me. I smile back, happy that he'd even want me in his team.

"Cecilia, Catherine, Cathy. Calum, Caden and Christopher. Team 3."

"Please be on the same team as Wyatt and Red!" I think.

"That leaves Valentina, Heather, Serenity. Wyatt, Red and Josh as Team 4," Coach finishes. "Now get to your court."

"Yay Wyatt! I'm so glad we're on the same team!" Heather squeals, wrapping her arms around him and going in for a hug.

The part that bothered me was that Wyatt didn't do anything to prevent it.

"Okay, so what's our formation?" Josh, a light-skin boy with dark hair and eyes, asked. "Boys at the front and girls at the back, or vice-versa?"

"I'm down for the first option," Serenity, a pale skin girl with hazel eyes and platinum-blonde hair, responds.

"Cool," Wyatt and Red agree in unison. "Is that alright with you?"

Confused, I suddenly realise that the question is addressed to me.

"Umm...yeah, I'm fine with that," I mumble.

Glaring at me, Heather then kisses her teeth, tying her red hair back. As she does this, all guys swoon and blush, some even eyeing her up and down.

Yet, Red and Wyatt are busy wondering how I'm going to tie my hair back if I have no band.

"Is anyone going to ask me if I'm alright?" Heather whines, stamping her feet.

"Here," Serenity says, handing me a band. "This is one of my spares. Give it back to me at the end of the lesson, yeah?"

"O-okay," I stutter. "Thanks so much."

"No problem, now let's start the match!" Josh shouts, getting all excited.

Taking our respective positions, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I see it's Heather.

And her eyes are filled with fury.

"Stay out of my way, alright Valentina? You're an underdog, you're meant to stay under the radar so that all can forget about you and that stupid nickname," She laughs, taunting me.

Staring at her in complete shock, I find myself at a lost for words. Taken aback, I hastily try to say something but no words escape my mouth as she flicks her hair in my face, walking away.

"Why...why did she say that?" I whisper.

"Don't listen to her," Serenity states comfortingly. "You're Valentina Blue-Rose, aren't you?"

I nod, afraid that if I do speak, sobs will fall from my lips, not words.

"I'm Serenity Miller," she says, greeting me. Holding out her hand, I assume Serenity wants me to shake it so I do, babbling a quick thanks.

Looking at her now, I see that she's quite tall. In fact, she's as tall as me, just a lot slimmer. She has beautiful eyelashes, which I think are real, and perfectly round lips with rosy cheeks. In addition to this, she also has an incredible physique that just screams 'athletes body.' Scanning her pony tail, I notice that her hair ends in ringlets.

"No problem, sis," she smiles.

"Sis?"

"Yeah, you're my sis now. I think I've given you plenty of reasons to like me," she says matter of factly.

"Oh," I reply. "Okay then."

But I'm really thinking;

"All you ever did was give me a hair band..."

"Relax sis," she punches my arm playfully. "I'm not like the rest of these people. I've been bullied myself, I have no intentions in tormenting you. Let's have a little fun, yeah?"

"Umm...sure?"

"That's it," she smirks.

Suddenly, the door opens and a girl with brown hair and green eyes walks in, bag slung around her shoulder and midnight-purple skirt incredibly short.

"Look at that beauty," Serenity whispers in my ear.

"So pretty."

Abruptly, she pulls away.

"Wait, you do know I'm lesbian, right?"

Gradually, my eyes widen and I almost feel the need to face palm myself.

"No," I admit. "I've never met any gay or bisexual people before."

"Besides myself," I think.

Tutting and shaking her head, Serenity says:

"It's alright, you don't have to tell me. I already know.

"Know what?" I ask nervously.

"You're bi, aren't you?"