Hidden Ville High

It's a new life now!

It's been a long time and I still haven't heard anything from Crest. He seems to want to end things with me. I appear to have accepted everything and would have to behave as if I don't care anymore, despite having promised myself that I would go on. I wish I had friends, and I mean good friends, who are willing to be there for me and share my setbacks and accomplishments with. It is just so overwhelming right now. I don't want to sit down and have all these things happen to me as if I'm not human either. The only thing I can think of that makes me appreciate this school and want to stay longer is that I regret coming here. It's been the entire second term, and I don't think I've gotten back in shape.

""Urgh....." I exhaled loudly, recalling that it was another day at school. I went lazily to the edge of my bed and put on my flip flops. I'm not feeling the school thing right now.

******

I greeted my mother with a warm hug from behind as I entered the kitchen. The aroma of the food she was making drew me in from my room.

"Hi, darling," she replied, turning to face me and putting a light kiss on my forehead.

"Why do you look like this?" She asked as she turned to resume cooking.

I was startled and began scanning through my garments. I know I put in so much effort to looking good. I don't want those people at school to think I look torn because I'm no longer with Crest.

"Exactly," my mother answered out of the blue.

"Exactly what?" I questioned her.

"Exactly what you just said," she said, staring at me with a puzzled expression.

I remained there perplexed by what she had said; I couldn't just understand her.

"Adele," my mother whispered, resting her hands on my shoulders.

"I care so much about you and really I don't want you looking like this"

I was still really perplexed because I was absolutely lost at this point. I was looking terrific, and I always smell lovely. So, what else?

"There's nothing wrong with my appearance this morning, mom; you're driving me insane," I complained, already enraged.

Mom merely removed her hand from my shoulder and turned off the gaslight, leaving me in solitude. She went straight to the plate shelf in the kitchen, and as she was ready to close it, I approached her, holding her hand on the shelf knob.

"Mom....."

"Don't mom me Adele," she yelled at me, which shocked me.

"You look pale and stressed; it's not by dressing all nice and attractive, Adele."

"You look down, and it's written all over you; your smiles are fake; I don't see those pretty bright eyes you have every morning anymore."

"I don't know this Adele; this is not my Adele."

"Mom," I shouted out, softly showing her that her tone was hurting me. She simply left me and went to the kitchen sink to rinse the plate before placing the food on it. She set the plate on the kitchen island and turned to face me.

"When I asked you why you liked this..." she began, gesticulating my looks and pointed from above to below.

"Do you remember talking to yourself?"

She asked, waiting for my reply with a questioning eyebrow.

No..." I said it plainly.

"You mentioned that you want to look perfect so that school 'folks' don't judge you based on your recent happenings," she added, her eyes wide with concern.

"I never taught you to be a weak woman or a woman who begs for love," she remarked as she carefully took up the plate from the table and approached me, clutching my waist to walk with her. She took a fork and placed it in the food.

We walked silently to the dining table, and I munched the dinner with her.

I'd be back late today, and the ladies and I would be going out to dinner tonight, so please look after yourself," she said as she walked to the living room to fetch her blazer, hanging it on her hand as she grabbed her car keys to go for work.

"I'd see you," she replied, planting a kiss on my forehead before making her way to the door.

"And yes, I prefer your regular messy bun to this gel-choking bun you think you look good in." I flashed her a mischievous glare in response and walked directly to the kitchen to dish out more food and pack my lunch.

I will leave my heart at the door

I won't say a word

They've all been said before, you know

So why don't we just play pretend?

Like we're not scared of what's coming next

Or scared of having nothing left

Look, don't get me wrong

I know there is no tomorrow

All I ask is

If this is my last night with you

Hold me like I'm more than just a friend

Give me a memory I can use

Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do

It matters how this ends.......

Adele's "All I Ask" appears to be the only music that was appropriate for my current mood. It was so humorous that it made me feel better; I never expected to like the song. Crest and I were often arguing about her music. He is a huge fan of her tunes. Perhaps occasionally individuals disagree so much that they eventually agree.

It seems weird right? I didn't really go well with the song my namesake sings. Maybe she's becoming the saviour of the season after all.

I quickly organized the house and packed everything I needed for school. Mom had already planned a ride for me, and it was waiting for me just in front of my house. I confirmed my transportation right after I got out of the gate and headed to school.

He said, "You look good" after a few minutes of awkward silence.

I said "Thank you" as if I didn't care.

"So...." he began to add something, but his eyes met with my cold, indifferent expression.

I'm not ready to enter into anything that may strain my mental health right now, please!

"Okay, I'll just be quiet," he murmured, extending one hand in submission.

"s**t!" I shouted out loud, already unhappy with myself.

"What's the problem?" the driver inquired, clearly concerned.

"I forgot my school tab at home, how careless of me," I muttered as the car pulled into the school parking lot.

At that moment, I felt lost. I was nearly late for school, and I still needed the tablet for my practical course today. As I stepped out of the car and headed toward the school entrance, disappointment weighed on me. I knew I was in trouble—Mr. Alonso wouldn’t let this slide easily. That man could talk endlessly.

"After…"

"Spare me the cliche complaints about being rude or anything like that. You’re late for school," he said flatly with a thin smile on his lips, motioning with his head for me to make the call, which I did.

"I'll be back during your short break—11:00 a.m. sharp," he added, and I responded with a slight smile and a nod.

"And please, be on time," he said, driving off as I called my gatekeeper to follow through on the instructions.