8:16AM. 

Crowds of teenagers flocking in the school grounds. By foot, bike, and even car. Hundreds of unmotivated students trying to get in as many laughs and conversations before the bell rings. Some meandered into the school while others stood idly around waiting until the very last second to head to class.

At the corner of the parking lot, further away from the crowds, stood an average-sized boy in parachute cargo pants and a rather ironic, Fraggle Rock T-shirt. With a doobie between his lips, he took long drags. Starting to ponder about what the mindless richies were discussing on the other side of the carpark, before becoming increasingly relaxed. Fortunately, he spotted the red sweatshirt before receiving the kiss on the cheek, stopping him from being surprised. He pulled the doobie out of his mouth, between his index finger and thumb. With his other hand, he slipped it round her, drawing her closer. She was wearing a red sweatshirt with semi-thin blue and white stripes, which was tucked into her belted, faded denim jeans.

“Bay,” Matteo said softly, without a stress in the world. “You know I want more than that on a Monday morning.”

Bay’s brows knitted together and her eyes narrowed in anger. She gripped his shirt at his chest and spoke intensely, “I thought we were more than that. I’m not just some bimbette that will be at your beck and call.” Bay planted her lips on his, making it to first base. Then pushing herself off just as quickly, she retorted, “That was only because I wanted to.” Then she walked off toward the school’s entrance, her hair swishing behind her as she turned, as it was up in a high ponytail. It looked like one of the cheerleader’s pompoms. Matteo wiped the smugness off his face and took a few more puffs of his doobie before slowly heading in the same way as Bay.

A white Ford Mustang pulled into the school parking lot, and its owner took the first available space. The roof was down and Brayden could be seen behind the wheel. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt that hung loosely from his frame. Turning off the ignition, he rested his head back on the seat and grabbed the box of cigarettes he knew was next to him. Shaking the box to get one out, he placed the butt in his mouth. Lighting the cigarette, he inhaled and then very slowly exhaled. Brayden knew he had plenty of time to think about whether he was going to class, maybe he wouldn’t go at all.

The school entrance was a struggle to get through while the corridors were even harder, as everyone was trying to manoeuvre around students talking and getting into their lockers. Though there was one person who never had to worry about that, and she could always be seen wearing a red beret atop her bushy red hair. Today, this was accompanied by a black choker, red velour pants and a tight black tee, with a black, velvet blazer over it. The sea of students parted as she walked, and the few that didn’t, got a swift elbow to the ribs. Unfortunately, Jack was one of the students who didn’t see Isobel coming.

As her elbow made contact, she growled at him, “Move, freak!”

“Isobel, really?”, Jack angrily whined, as he pushed back his denim jacket to clutch his side, revealing part of the sheepskin lining. Underneath that, he had a basic white t-shirt and jeans, along with black converse. He couldn’t handle her right now and was getting frustrated; he’d already got enough of it this morning, at home. “Just lay off it, alright?” Under his breath, he added, “Stupid.”

She pushed his books out of his other hand, the one not gripping his side, and they all spread across the corridor floor between all the legs. “What did you say, dweeb?”

Jack tried to stand up to her but was intimidated, with fear behind his eyes. “Я назвал тебя глупым, ты ужасный и…” Isobel gave him a hard shove and he stumbled backwards, not able to complete his sentence. But before he could regain his footing, Blake was by his side, gripping his forearm to hold him steady.

“Back off, Isobel,” Blake told her.

“Ooh, look, it’s dweeb number two. Bite me, Brooks,” she retorted.

“No thank you, I don’t like bad meat.” At this, he could see her fuming and she took a swing at his pretty face. Blake dodged before retaliating; taking ahold of her wrist, he twisted it behind her back and calmly spoke into her ear from behind. “Who’s the dweeb now, Isobel?” He pushed her away from him and turned, ignoring the onlookers.

Isobel watched them walk away and yelled, “You better watch your back, Brooks!”

Her head buried inside her locker as she tried to find some book she needed. Only her small, pale pink tee, tucked into her black, knee-length skirt could be seen. As well as her dark brown hair hanging down her back, thick and bushy, and in small curls, almost frizzy. Next to her, a wild-haired girl leaned back on the neighbouring locker, her foot kicked up behind her; Kiona. Kiona was a bit of a tomboy, in her boyfriend jeans and loose black and white stripe jersey. Though she wasn’t, her face looked aggressive when she wasn’t talking.

“If you get any further in there, will you find Narnia?”, Kiona asked dryly.

Brooke pulled herself out of her locker with a novel in hand. Brooke giggled and showed her the book. “No, just Sweet Valley High.”

Kiona merely rolled her eyes at this. “Enough of that putt. You can’t honestly say you enjoy that trash?”

“It’s not trash. If it was, then Francine Pascal wouldn’t have written three books AND be writing a fourth now.”

Kiona threw her hands into the front of her jeans and sighed. “Trash can make money.”

Before Brooke could counter this, a hand gently squeezed her shoulder and a male voice said, “Hey Brookie.”

She flinched slightly, then turned to see Jason and Charlene standing there. Charlene’s arm looped through his. She noticed Charlene first. Her thick hair and evenly cut fringe, perfectly framed her face. While her tight jeans, white crop top, and oversized faded blue shirt, which hung off her shoulders, gave her a ‘I just threw this on’ vibe. Brooke couldn’t compete with that, she was the only girl she couldn’t compete with, in beauty. Even if Jason was completely FINE. He wore a Members Only jacket half-zipped over a white tee shirt with medium-wash jeans and black military boots. Brooke warily looked up into his eyes, trying hard not to look too flushed. “Hi, Jase.”

After a moment’s silence, Kiona spoke, “Char, it’s not hard to guess where you stayed last night. You two the new thing then?”

Charlene replied with a smirk, as if to say ’we will see.’ Jason tilted his head toward her. “Just helping out a friend, Kay, that is all… she needed a place to stay,” he spoke with a little uncertainty. Although trying hard not to show it, Kiona could tell that Brooke was a little put off by his comment.

Tamara trudged into the school behind Zachary “Zig” Hill, in a brown, oversized, members only jacket over top of a baggy tee and jeans. Zig turned round to face her when they were inside and out of view of the parking lot, where her parents had dropped them off. “Just because my aunt and uncle told me to watch over you, doesn’t mean I should. It doesn’t even mean we should be in the mix,” he told her, adjusting his denim jacket over his blue and white striped sweatshirt. “So this is Amherst High, have fun.” He turned, scuffing the bottom of his black pants as he walked away. She was left standing there in the crowd, a little enraged, knowing that she had always hated him.

Chloe tightened her ponytail, smoothing out the ends with her hands as she waited for Christopher to finish counting his bills. Chris paused, gave her a sheepish look, and dug deep into his pockets. He pulled out another dollar bill and handed the cash over to her. She accepted the sum forcefully. “You know I hate it when you keep me waiting,” she noted, as she counted the money for herself. Chris didn’t answer, just looked at the door to the boys’ bathroom to make sure the coast was still clear. “You’re ten short, Christopher.” Her blunt tone brought him back and his eyes rested on the image in front of him. Chloe was beautiful, no one could deny that. She was wearing a plaid, bright yellow mini skirt, with a blazer to match. Underneath that, was a yellow cardigan, though Chloe had not fastened the top two buttons on purpose.

“C’mon Chloe,” Chris pleaded, looking into her eyes. “I don’t have enough right now. I’ll bring it tomorrow. You can trust me.”

Chloe took a step closer to him and fiddled with the hem of his letterman jacket. “You know, there’s only one other form of payment I’d accept from you,” she suggested, giving him a quick once over. He was wearing a dark turtleneck underneath his jacket, which could easily cover up any hickeys, should Chloe actually seal the deal.

Chris looked down at Chloe, being that he was a half foot taller despite her wearing platform heels. He didn't want her hands on him for a second longer and shifted his weight in an attempt to shake off her grip. “Chloe…” He had said it as a warning to her, but when she leaned up to his ear to whisper his name back, it was clear she had mistaken it for flirting.

“Chris…”, she said for a second time, moving her hands to rest in the back pockets of his stone-washed Levi’s. It was clear she wouldn’t get the hint if he didn’t correct his tone. He cleared his throat and reached around to grab Chloe’s wrists.

“No,” he stated sharply. “I’ve told you I’m not going to be like that with you again.” He held her hands in front of their chests, forcing her to step back. His eyes darted to the money, his money, that was still in her hands.

“Fine,” she smirked and he released his hold. She slipped her hand into his pocket once more, only this time to return his money. “You don’t have it, you don’t get it.”

“Chloe,” Chris said again. Though this time he wasn’t warning her, he was pleading with her. “You know me.” But she simply ignored him and started walking to the door. Her heels made a clicking sound on the bathroom tiles. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the money once more. “CHLOE! PLEASE?!”, he called out after her as she walked out into the corridor.

If Chloe was upset about missing out on Christopher’s sale, it didn’t show. In fact, she had already set her sights elsewhere. She picked up the pace as she saw the mid-length, brunette hair of a woman in the grey power suit with excessive shoulder pads. The woman was headed into a classroom. “Miss Anderson, I think it’s time we talk again,” she called and followed her inside.