BRIANNA

3. STAY AWAY FROM THEM

BRIANNA'S POV

As soon as I got to the school, I followed the directions they sent me and made my way to the head office. The nerves that had been building up on the way to school seemed to reach their peak as I approached the entrance.

The building itself was imposing, a stark contrast to the more modest structures of my previous school. Inside, the head office was bustling with activity. A lady at the front desk greeted me warmly, her friendly demeanour a small comfort in the sea of unfamiliarity.

She efficiently handled all the necessary paperwork, handed me my locker number, and gave me my schedule for the week. Her reassuring smile and calm presence helped to ease some of my anxiety. With the essentials sorted, she wished me luck and sent me on my way.

I went to my locker so that I could leave my stuff there and make my way to my first class. The hallways were a labyrinth of sleek lockers and polished floors, a far cry from the worn corridors of my old school.

As I stood in front of my new locker, the reality of my situation began to sink in. This was my new normal.

The unfamiliar combination lock took a few tries, but eventually, I managed to open it and stowed away my belongings. I took a deep breath and made my way to my first class, my heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and excitement. Each step felt heavy with the weight of anticipation, yet light with the thrill of the unknown.

Everything is different from my school here. It looks like I'm in another world or maybe in a dream where I would wake up once I start enjoying myself. The campus was stunning, with state-of-the-art facilities and an air of sophistication that was both awe-inspiring and intimidating.

It felt like walking through a meticulously crafted movie set, each detail polished to perfection. The classrooms were equipped with the latest technology, the students impeccably dressed, and the atmosphere charged with an intensity that spoke of high expectations and even higher ambitions. It was both exhilarating and overwhelming.

As I navigated through the maze of hallways, I couldn’t shake off the surreal feeling that this was all a fleeting dream. The thought that I might wake up and find myself back in North Adams was both a comfort and a fear.

Everywhere I passed, everyone kept looking at me and some were even talking in low voices. Others waved and smiled at me, which was something I didn't expect. I smiled back and continued with my journey. The curiosity was palpable.

Being the new girl, especially one who clearly didn’t fit the typical mould of Brooklyn International students, made me a magnet for attention. The stares and whispers were unnerving, but the occasional smiles and waves were a welcome surprise. These small gestures of friendliness were like beacons of hope, suggesting that not everyone here would be judgmental or dismissive.

I returned the smiles, hoping to convey my openness and willingness to connect. Each interaction, however brief, was a step towards carving out a place for myself in this new environment. The kindness of strangers reminded me that there was potential for acceptance and friendship, even in the most unlikely places.

As soon as I got to class, the teacher told me to sit anywhere I wanted, but before I could, a very pretty girl waved me over and told me to sit next to her. Her gesture caught me off guard, a beacon of kindness in a sea of uncertainty. She was poised and confident, her smile genuine and welcoming.

It was a relief to see someone reaching out to me so openly. Her kindness was a stark contrast to the cold indifference I had feared. Seeing that she was being nice to me, I didn't want to disappoint her, so I did what she wanted. I saw the other two girls scoffing, and I didn't need to be told that they didn't like me.

The scoffs and the disdainful looks from the other girls were a harsh reminder that not everyone would be as welcoming. Their reactions were filled with unspoken judgments, the kind that could cut deeper than any words. It was clear that my presence was not appreciated by everyone, but I decided to focus on the positive.

The girl who had invited me to sit with her was a beacon of hope, and I chose to ignore the negativity. I concentrated on the class, determined not to let the hostile attitudes affect me. The support of even one person was enough to bolster my resolve. I reminded myself that not everyone’s opinion mattered and that I was here for a purpose that transcended their petty judgments.

I decided to ignore them and focused on my class instead. The lesson flew by in a blur of new information and cautious glances. My focus was split between trying to absorb the material and navigating the social dynamics of the classroom.

The teacher’s voice was a steady anchor amidst the turbulence of my thoughts, providing a much-needed distraction from the whispers and stares. When the bell finally rang, I felt a mixture of relief and anticipation.

The first hurdle was over, but the day was far from done. I glanced at my schedule, noting the location of my next class. The prospect of moving through the day, of facing new faces and new challenges, was both daunting and exhilarating.

The girl next to me, the one who asked me to sit next to her, checked my schedule and smiled, her eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. "It seems we're having the same class again. I'm Sarah. Nice to meet you." Her smile was infectious, and I couldn't help but return it, feeling a bit of my anxiety melt away under her friendly gaze.

"Nice to meet you too. I'm Brianna," I responded, extending my hand in a polite gesture. But Sarah had other plans. She ignored my outstretched hand and pulled me into a hug instead, her embrace warm and comforting.

"Forgive me, I'm a hugger," she explained, her smile widening. "I have to say, you have beautiful skin. I'm jealous." Her compliment took me by surprise. Here was this girl, who seemed perfect in every way, complimenting me?

"Yours is more beautiful. I don't get why you would be jealous of mine," I replied, genuinely puzzled. Sarah's skin was flawless, her complexion radiant. She kept smiling at me, and there was something so sincere about her that it was hard to feel anything but grateful for her kindness. She took my hand and led me out of the classroom, her grip firm yet gentle.

We made our way to our next class, and I couldn't help but notice that everyone was looking at us. Some with annoyance, while others seemed merely surprised. It was clear that Sarah was popular, and her attention toward me was drawing more notice than I was comfortable with.

"Don't mind them. I'm used to it," she said, her smile never wavering. She walked with a confidence that suggested she was unbothered by the stares and whispers. I admired her ease and wondered if I could ever be that self-assured. Is this how my life is going to be in this school?

I guess if I'm going to be spending time with her, people will always look at me. The thought was both daunting and oddly thrilling. Sarah seemed unfazed by the attention, and her nonchalance was somewhat comforting. We quickly sat down once we arrived in the next classroom, and I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. The sensation was intense, like a tangible weight on my shoulders.

I didn't want to look around to see who it was because I wasn't sure how I would react if I saw who was looking at me. My mind raced with possibilities—was it someone judging me, or perhaps someone curious about the new girl? Ironically, even though it was an unfamiliar feeling, it didn't feel creepy and uncomfortable. It was like my body enjoyed the attention it was receiving. The notion was strange, almost unsettling, but not entirely unpleasant.

When I realized that I couldn't take it anymore, I looked in the direction where I thought the person who was staring at me was and to say I couldn't believe my eyes would be an understatement.

The intensity of his gaze had been a tangible presence, and now, meeting it head-on, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. I was met with the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen, a shade so vivid they seemed almost unreal. His eyes alone made him look perfect, a striking feature that could easily capture anyone's attention.

There was a depth to them, a mix of curiosity and amusement that only heightened my awareness of his scrutiny. He didn't even look away when he saw that I caught him staring at me. On the contrary, his lips curved into a slight, amused smile, as if he found my reaction entertaining. It was both unnerving and fascinating, and I found myself caught in the trap of his gaze, unable to look away.

When I finally gathered the courage to take my eyes off him, I turned to Sarah and asked, "Who is he?" She just smiled at me, a knowing glint in her eyes, and told me that she would tell me about him during our lunch break.

Her reaction only fueled my curiosity, making me even more eager to learn about this mysterious boy who seemed to have a magnetic pull on me. The rest of the morning passed in a blur, my thoughts constantly drifting back to those piercing green eyes and the enigmatic expression that accompanied them. I found it hard to concentrate on my classes, my mind playing over the brief but intense encounter.

As soon as we were done with our morning classes, Sarah and I headed to the cafeteria to get something to eat. The cafeteria was bustling with students, the air filled with the clatter of trays and the hum of conversation. Everything there was so expensive, but I was grateful that I at least had my meal allowance.

We joined the line, and as we moved forward, I couldn't help but glance around, half-expecting to see those green eyes watching me again. Sarah, noticing my distraction, gave me a reassuring smile. Once we had our food, we found a table in a relatively quiet corner of the cafeteria and settled down.

"You wanted to know about our golden boy, right?" Sarah began, her tone casual but her eyes twinkling with amusement. Golden boy? I thought to myself. Is he the golden boy of this school? The term seemed almost mythical, like something out of a storybook.

"I had no idea he is the school's golden boy," I replied, still trying to wrap my head around the information. "I just wanted to know who he is. He was staring at me the whole time while we were in class." My words came out in a rush, my curiosity bubbling over.

"Huh? That's a first," Sarah said, raising an eyebrow. "JC doesn't pay attention to girls." Her statement left me even more perplexed. What's so different about me then? I wondered. It didn't make sense that he would focus on me when, by all accounts, he didn't usually pay attention to girls.

"Really? It doesn't make sense," I echoed, my mind racing with questions. Someone like him should have tons of girlfriends, I thought. His looks, his confidence—everything about him screamed that he would be surrounded by admirers.

"He's not a virgin or anything," Sarah continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "The whole school would think you're crazy if you ever thought he might be a virgin." Her words painted a picture of a boy who was far from innocent, someone with a reputation that preceded him.

"It is true that he doesn't pay attention to girls, and it is also true that he doesn't date," she added. Her statement left a gap in the narrative, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. How come he is not a virgin if he doesn't date? I wondered, the contradiction gnawing at me.

"I know you must be asking yourself how come he isn't a virgin," Sarah said as if reading my thoughts. "As the whole school would say, JC only f***s. He f***s every skirt in his way and everybody knows." Her bluntness took me aback, but it also clarified the image of JC.

That makes sense then, I thought, piecing together the information. Somehow, I knew from the very first glance that he was a bad boy. There was an aura about him, a mix of danger and allure that was hard to ignore.

The revelation about his behaviour fit perfectly with the vibe he exuded. Yet, despite this, the fact that he had paid attention to me remained a tantalizing mystery. What had caught his interest? Why me? These questions swirled in my mind, adding another layer of complexity to my already overwhelming day.

As I sat there, digesting both my food and the information Sarah had given me, I felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. JC was clearly someone to be wary of, yet his attention was undeniably flattering.

"Don't fall for his perfect looks. He is trouble, and if you want to live a peaceful life in this school, you will stay away from him or any of his friends," Sarah warned, her tone earnest and almost motherly. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of experience.

"Why do you say so?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. It's not like I want to be friends with him, but I couldn't help wondering why she was so adamant about steering clear of JC and his entourage. There had to be more to the story.

"Well, for starters, does the name JC ring any bells to you?" Sarah's question seemed almost rhetorical, her eyes searching mine for any sign of recognition.

"No, why?" I responded, feeling a bit out of the loop.

"Who owns Brooklyn International School?" She asked, her eyebrows raising slightly as if the answer should be obvious.

Jacob Charles, of course. Everyone knew that. Brooklyn International wasn't just any private school; it was the most prestigious, and the most expensive, and it produced some of the brightest minds in the country. It was common knowledge, almost a part of American folklore, who owned this institution. "Jacob Charles, of course. Who else?"

"And that doesn't tell you anything?" She sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Ok, fine. Let me tell you: JC is Jacob Charles Jr. He is the son of our school owner, and that is the reason why he is our golden boy. He is a playboy, and everyone knows it. His mother is the minister of health, Jacqueline Charles."

My jaw dropped slightly. JC was not just any student. He was practically royalty here, the son of the school's owner and a prominent government figure. No wonder everyone seemed to tread carefully around him. Sarah continued, her voice a mixture of disdain and resignation.

"He has three best friends if you can call them that. First, there is Callum Davis. His father is a renowned chef and owns about six restaurants in New York City. Callum is an only son and the sole heir to his father's empire. The funny part is that he knows nothing about cooking, and on top of that, he is a spoiled brat. He is also the biggest jerk of the four."

I marvelled at how much Sarah knew about these boys. It was like she had a dossier on each of them, filled with every detail of their privileged lives. "Then there's Kyle," she continued. "The youngest of four kids, which means he is also the favourite. His father is a movie director, and his mother is a neurosurgeon. His parents allow him to do whatever he wants with his life, and he is a douche like his friends."

"And the other one is Noah Anderson. He is the eldest of two kids and the favourite. He is also from a rich family, an heir to Anderson Inc., one of the biggest companies in New York. He is kindhearted but rarely shows it."

Sarah leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll keep on telling you to stay away from them. Even though I told you that they don't date, it doesn't mean they are available."

"How do you know all this? Are you friends with them?" I asked, incredulous at the depth of her knowledge.

"What?! No! I would never be friends with those assholes. I hate them. They think they own everything in this world, especially this school. I know JC's father owns this school, but that doesn't mean as his son he should behave like he also owns it. It's really annoying."

I could understand what she meant. There are lots of people in this world who think they own everything and everybody. It was an unfortunate but common occurrence.

"Besides, even if they do date, the L-train will never allow any girl to date them," Sarah added, her tone darkening.

"L-train? What is that?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Just girls who believe they were meant to be with JC and his friends. I know that if those boys would date, the L-train will make sure to give the girls in question a hard time. They would make their lives a living hell."

I was intrigued. Who were these girls? What gave them such power? I was sure they must be from very rich families as well for them to think they were the only ones who deserved to be with JC and his friends.

"I know you might think I'm lying, but I'm telling you, those girls are your worst nightmare. You don't want to mess with them, not even once," Sarah warned, her expression deadly serious.