Victoria Farmer

Chapter 1

 “Okay class,” Mr. Bates’s booming voice blocked out the noise of the class, interrupting my daydreaming. “Today we will begin a chapter on cell activity.” He turned his back to write the name of the chapter on the blackboard. The sound of chalk on board sent chills down my spine.

  I watched the rest of my class get out their notebooks and begin taking notes. From the back of the room I had a clear view of everyone and everything. I saw the many colors and designs on the books, all different from each other varying from royal blue and blood-red colors to swirly pink designs and jade polka-dots. They were very appealing, and clearly more expensive than most of the other plain books like the ones of the people sitting just ahead of me. Theirs were more baby blue, and orange, completely plain and hideous.

  Cassie, my best friend, turned around to face me. “When will this teacher teach us something interesting?”

  I put on a fake smile, and nodded in agreement. “I know, right?”

  She rolled her light green eyes in the direction of the teacher, and turned back around to her notebook, one with designs of pink skulls and a black background, her long, brown curls bouncing against her back.

  I didn’t want her, or any of my friends for that matter, to know exactly how interesting I found science. Rich kids weren’t supposed to be smart or pay attention to anything. We were supposed to be snobs and intellectually challenged. Not me. I enjoyed Science and English class. I wanted to do something meaningful with my life rather than drift through life easily, knowing my parents would pay for anything I wanted, and never having to work.

  I drew my attention back to the board, but didn’t bother taking notes – I had a photographic memory. Mr. Bates's voice carried on and on, and my mind grew farther and farther away from what I should've been paying attention to. What was so important about what people think most of what life is supposedly about?

  I looked over at the small girl sitting a couple of rows to my right. She had her head in her notebook, most likely drawing like she usually did. Her light brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her sand brown jacket concealed most of her body, which was due to the fact that she was too small for it, making her look much younger than fourteen-- she had skipped a couple of grades due to her absolute brilliance in academics. She most certainly appeared to look like she lived in poverty. I thought about what life must mean to her. Would she wish to live in a much more well-set lifestyle? Most likely not. She always skipped around merrily, enjoying life. What does life hold for her?

  I turned my head and looked at Cassie. She had her head was bowed, obviously texting and trying to conceal her phone behind her backpack, which she had on top of her desk. What did life hold for Cassie? At the moment texting on her phone, but she also loved shopping, parties and having people adore and envy her. Superficial things if you asked me, but I wouldn't dare say a word.

  I looked over at the goth kids on the direct, other side of the room. They were huddled together, whispering and pointing at Cassie. It irritated me when they did that. I exhaled sharply, and burried my face in my science book, not bothering to think any more about them.

  After reading over a paragraph on cell division, that I had already read twice, I began thinking about me. I lived in a grand, pink Victorian house--that my mom had chosen, to my father's dismay-- and had my own room, which I would've had anyway since I'm an only child.