Chapter 1: New Life, New Begginings
The door flew open. Maria entered. Maria had dreaded this day. The day she was opening the foreign doors into her new life. The exact same day she was closing the familiar door on her old life. Last night she couldn't sleep because of it: the nerves had gotten to her.
What if someone found out how she got into this place?
Or worse, what would they make of it?
She now felt miserable. A step into this place and she was already miserable, what a great start to a new day! It was her first day at Noughts & Crosses boarding school and she already didn't like the place. Sure, the school has its pretty perks; its bright yellowy gold walls with grapevines caressing it as if the grapevines was its warrior; sworn to oath as it eternal protector.
Beyond the 'protected' pretty gold walls, there was a huge emerald green garden surrounding the whole campus. The sweet smelling garden looked beautiful with the ancient looking walls. It made Maria slightly change her mind about the school. It couldn't be all bad if it had these beautiful places in them. Could it? Looking aside from those two outstanding beauties, that are the beautiful garden and the peculiarly placed ancient walls, it was pretty ordinary. There were benches which Maria felt needed a new paint job, cracked pathways that looked like a safety hazard and people. All types of people, blonds, brunettes, athletes, comedians and many others. But the weird thing was, everyone was young. And good-looking. There were no old ugly people who could pass as our teachers.
“It must be cave time for them; the only time they're allowed out is when lessons started.” Maria thought aloud. “And they don't start until tomorrow...”
“Attention!” a person said. Or a teacher. She only looked about 23. “Welcome to Noughts & Crosses Boarding School.” Everyone had gathered in a great big white hall; one of which was Maria. There were lots of people here. All of them young. Not a teacher in sight. Well at least, it didn't look like there were any. They must still be in their ratty caves.
“Hello. I am your head, Phillipa Wilkinson. You have all been graced with the tremendous opportunity of attending our prestigious school. So do not disappoint us with ill-mannered, inappropriate, childish behaviour. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Wilkinson.” Everyone responded in a bored monotonous manner.
She was right. Everyone here was selected to attend this school. Maria's no exception. She had been accepted here because of her creative writing essay. She wished she'd never wrote it, but she couldn't hold it any more. She just couldn't. She'd been hiding the dreams she got. Those terrible dreams. She had to vent it out somewhere but she feared isolation. She'd never planned to write it down: it just happened. She was sitting there. Pen in hand. Staring at the piece of paper. Seeing her dreams right in front of her eyes. The pen touched the piece of paper. It started writing. On and on. Every single detail. On that piece of paper. Her deepest secret. On that piece of paper. For the whole world to read. On that piece of paper. Luckily they thought she had a wild imagination. If they knew the truth...
Her teacher, Miss Palaza, was so impressed that she sent it to the Noughts & Crosses admission board and...well...the rest is history.
While Maria's was pretending to be paying attention to the assembly, a guy suddenly sat next to her.
“Hi,” the stranger said. “I'm Juan. Juan Rios.” Maria turned to him. He had jet black hair with naturally tanned skin. Definitely Hispanic. When she fully faced him, something hit her, she wasn't sure what but she knew she had to befriend this guy. She just had to.
“Hello, I'm Maria Calendas”
“Nice name. So what'd do to get in?”
“I didn't do nothing. My teacher sent a creative writing essay I wrote to the admission board and the rest was history. If I'm really honest, I didn't really want to go here.” Maria replied in slight sorrow. But in a more cheery manner she replied, “What about you?”
“Many a reason.” he said with a playful smile. This made Maria smile as well after her ambiguous somber confession.
“So what do you make of the school so far?” She asked with real curiosity.
“Its alright, I guess. But have you seen any old people around. You know, old enough to actually be our teachers?”
“No,” Maria replied with a sound of relief. “I had the exact same thought! Want to know my theory?”
He nodded.
“Well, I believe that the teachers hide in their dusty little caves and only come out when they have to, like when they have to teach.”
“Am I right in saying that you are a bit mad?”
“Yes. You so are.”
And they continued for talking about all things weird and wonderful until Ms. Wilkinson started speaking again.
“I am going to call out every subject teacher so you'll know who you have.” Miss Wilkinson said. Oh great. She'd have to look at teachers she'd probably never meet. At least she'll get to meet her teachers and see what they look like. Maria had picked History, Psychology, English Literature and others things she couldn't quite remember.
“ICT. George Jensen.” Eurrgh, ICT. She knows she did not pick that good-for-nothing subject. But Maria did not expect what she was about to see next.
George Jensen wasn't your typical teacher. Oh no. He was too young; he looked about 19/18 which Maria knows is too young to be a fully trained teacher. Maybe he looks younger than he really is. He could be 25. Or, maybe only student teachers taught here. Nah. This is a highly selective boarding school, no way they're going to let some ambitious young trainee teachers mess up their reputation. Definitely the first one.
Looking beyond the fact that he was too young, Jensen was absolutely gorgeous. And not your regular gorgeous. That would be a complete understatement. He looked like he was some high fashion model that only does D&G, Giorgio/Emporio Armani, Donna Karen etc... But it did not stop there. Hell no. The teachers kept on coming and coming. All of them young. All of them sublimely gorgeous. Maria began feel slightly inferior.
But then...
“English Literature. Adolfo Ariváburché.”
A gorgeous blond Italian guy stepped in. He looked like he was in his early 20's. He was slim but built in a very strange sense. His slightly highlighted dirty blonde hair swooped over his face in different layers; it effectively showed off his amazingly high cheekbones. She couldn't stop staring at him. The smooth, lustrous hair, the beautifully sharp cheeks, the voluminous full lips, and the eyes. Those eyes. Those magnificent eyes. They drew her to him. Those slit deep sea blue eyes. Those eyes made her feel as if there was no one around except him and herself; staring at one another. Maria's body wanted to rise and run into his arms; her mind thought better of it. She couldn't take her eyes of him. And neither could he. Or, at least, it looked as if he couldn't. His eyes sent out different messages. They were too hard to decipher. At one point it was happiness, then it turned into confusion, soon after, it infused with disbelief. And in one swift move, it suddenly turned in infuriating anger. Maria mind went blank. She was in an absolute trance. She had not expected that. Awakening seemed a distance away when the rapturous hurt tried to seep in...until Juan's whispering voice revived her from her dream-like state.
“Maria. Wake up. Everyone is staring at you!”
Maria attention recoiled back to the assembly hall. Nausea was hit upon her when she realised Juan was right, everyone was staring at her. Some eyes were full of curiosity; some were with dying anticipation of what was going to happen next and a lot more were of anger and sadness, as if she was missing out on some important detail that they were all aware of. Maria lowered head in total embarrassment. And anger. What was he so angry about? It wasn't only Maria staring. He did it as well: he could've just looked away and ignored her existence. But he didn't.
Maria couldn't wait to get out of there and go to her dorm. Lying there, on the stranger's the bed that was yet to become her own, burying her head into her comforting, although quite foreign, pillow. With the everlasting hope of pushing out the painfully awkward yet suprisingly pleasant 'thing' that had happened between Adolfo Ariváburché and herself.
The door flew open. Maria entered. Maria had dreaded this day. The day she was opening the foreign doors into her new life. The exact same day she was closing the familiar door on her old life. Last night she couldn't sleep because of it: the nerves had gotten to her.
What if someone found out how she got into this place?
Or worse, what would they make of it?
She now felt miserable. A step into this place and she was already miserable, what a great start to a new day! It was her first day at Noughts & Crosses boarding school and she already didn't like the place. Sure, the school has its pretty perks; its bright yellowy gold walls with grapevines caressing it as if the grapevines was its warrior; sworn to oath as it eternal protector.
Beyond the 'protected' pretty gold walls, there was a huge emerald green garden surrounding the whole campus. The sweet smelling garden looked beautiful with the ancient looking walls. It made Maria slightly change her mind about the school. It couldn't be all bad if it had these beautiful places in them. Could it? Looking aside from those two outstanding beauties, that are the beautiful garden and the peculiarly placed ancient walls, it was pretty ordinary. There were benches which Maria felt needed a new paint job, cracked pathways that looked like a safety hazard and people. All types of people, blonds, brunettes, athletes, comedians and many others. But the weird thing was, everyone was young. And good-looking. There were no old ugly people who could pass as our teachers.
“It must be cave time for them; the only time they're allowed out is when lessons started.” Maria thought aloud. “And they don't start until tomorrow...”
“Attention!” a person said. Or a teacher. She only looked about 23. “Welcome to Noughts & Crosses Boarding School.” Everyone had gathered in a great big white hall; one of which was Maria. There were lots of people here. All of them young. Not a teacher in sight. Well at least, it didn't look like there were any. They must still be in their ratty caves.
“Hello. I am your head, Phillipa Wilkinson. You have all been graced with the tremendous opportunity of attending our prestigious school. So do not disappoint us with ill-mannered, inappropriate, childish behaviour. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Wilkinson.” Everyone responded in a bored monotonous manner.
She was right. Everyone here was selected to attend this school. Maria's no exception. She had been accepted here because of her creative writing essay. She wished she'd never wrote it, but she couldn't hold it any more. She just couldn't. She'd been hiding the dreams she got. Those terrible dreams. She had to vent it out somewhere but she feared isolation. She'd never planned to write it down: it just happened. She was sitting there. Pen in hand. Staring at the piece of paper. Seeing her dreams right in front of her eyes. The pen touched the piece of paper. It started writing. On and on. Every single detail. On that piece of paper. Her deepest secret. On that piece of paper. For the whole world to read. On that piece of paper. Luckily they thought she had a wild imagination. If they knew the truth...
Her teacher, Miss Palaza, was so impressed that she sent it to the Noughts & Crosses admission board and...well...the rest is history.
While Maria's was pretending to be paying attention to the assembly, a guy suddenly sat next to her.
“Hi,” the stranger said. “I'm Juan. Juan Rios.” Maria turned to him. He had jet black hair with naturally tanned skin. Definitely Hispanic. When she fully faced him, something hit her, she wasn't sure what but she knew she had to befriend this guy. She just had to.
“Hello, I'm Maria Calendas”
“Nice name. So what'd do to get in?”
“I didn't do nothing. My teacher sent a creative writing essay I wrote to the admission board and the rest was history. If I'm really honest, I didn't really want to go here.” Maria replied in slight sorrow. But in a more cheery manner she replied, “What about you?”
“Many a reason.” he said with a playful smile. This made Maria smile as well after her ambiguous somber confession.
“So what do you make of the school so far?” She asked with real curiosity.
“Its alright, I guess. But have you seen any old people around. You know, old enough to actually be our teachers?”
“No,” Maria replied with a sound of relief. “I had the exact same thought! Want to know my theory?”
He nodded.
“Well, I believe that the teachers hide in their dusty little caves and only come out when they have to, like when they have to teach.”
“Am I right in saying that you are a bit mad?”
“Yes. You so are.”
And they continued for talking about all things weird and wonderful until Ms. Wilkinson started speaking again.
“I am going to call out every subject teacher so you'll know who you have.” Miss Wilkinson said. Oh great. She'd have to look at teachers she'd probably never meet. At least she'll get to meet her teachers and see what they look like. Maria had picked History, Psychology, English Literature and others things she couldn't quite remember.
“ICT. George Jensen.” Eurrgh, ICT. She knows she did not pick that good-for-nothing subject. But Maria did not expect what she was about to see next.
George Jensen wasn't your typical teacher. Oh no. He was too young; he looked about 19/18 which Maria knows is too young to be a fully trained teacher. Maybe he looks younger than he really is. He could be 25. Or, maybe only student teachers taught here. Nah. This is a highly selective boarding school, no way they're going to let some ambitious young trainee teachers mess up their reputation. Definitely the first one.
Looking beyond the fact that he was too young, Jensen was absolutely gorgeous. And not your regular gorgeous. That would be a complete understatement. He looked like he was some high fashion model that only does D&G, Giorgio/Emporio Armani, Donna Karen etc... But it did not stop there. Hell no. The teachers kept on coming and coming. All of them young. All of them sublimely gorgeous. Maria began feel slightly inferior.
But then...
“English Literature. Adolfo Ariváburché.”
A gorgeous blond Italian guy stepped in. He looked like he was in his early 20's. He was slim but built in a very strange sense. His slightly highlighted dirty blonde hair swooped over his face in different layers; it effectively showed off his amazingly high cheekbones. She couldn't stop staring at him. The smooth, lustrous hair, the beautifully sharp cheeks, the voluminous full lips, and the eyes. Those eyes. Those magnificent eyes. They drew her to him. Those slit deep sea blue eyes. Those eyes made her feel as if there was no one around except him and herself; staring at one another. Maria's body wanted to rise and run into his arms; her mind thought better of it. She couldn't take her eyes of him. And neither could he. Or, at least, it looked as if he couldn't. His eyes sent out different messages. They were too hard to decipher. At one point it was happiness, then it turned into confusion, soon after, it infused with disbelief. And in one swift move, it suddenly turned in infuriating anger. Maria mind went blank. She was in an absolute trance. She had not expected that. Awakening seemed a distance away when the rapturous hurt tried to seep in...until Juan's whispering voice revived her from her dream-like state.
“Maria. Wake up. Everyone is staring at you!”
Maria attention recoiled back to the assembly hall. Nausea was hit upon her when she realised Juan was right, everyone was staring at her. Some eyes were full of curiosity; some were with dying anticipation of what was going to happen next and a lot more were of anger and sadness, as if she was missing out on some important detail that they were all aware of. Maria lowered head in total embarrassment. And anger. What was he so angry about? It wasn't only Maria staring. He did it as well: he could've just looked away and ignored her existence. But he didn't.
Maria couldn't wait to get out of there and go to her dorm. Lying there, on the stranger's the bed that was yet to become her own, burying her head into her comforting, although quite foreign, pillow. With the everlasting hope of pushing out the painfully awkward yet suprisingly pleasant 'thing' that had happened between Adolfo Ariváburché and herself.
