We drove in silence. I looked out the window at the leaves, withering on the branches before falling to the ground. I kind of felt like the same thing was happening to me: I was curling up and falling away from the tree that had held me my whole life, down to the new ground, to new experiences.
Drawing my blazer closer to me, I threw those thoughts out of my head. Everything was going to be fine.
Pulling up to the Moreton Academy, it looked exactly the way I thought it would. A giant red brick building with a clocktower on the top and ivy climbing the walls dominated the landscape, surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns interspersed with paths on which small groups of students wandered, giggling and laughing like they didn’t have anything in the world to worry about.
The driver pulled up to the curb.
“You’re to go to the headmaster’s office, Ms. Ressler.”
“Thanks,” I croaked, not realizing how dry my throat was. Looking around at all these new students, my new classmates, I felt like I wanted to cry. All the girls were absolutely gorgeous, thin, confident, everything I wasn’t. The guys were smoking hot and fit, the bar to make the sports teams here must have been incredible.
I left the warm comfort of the car and grabbed my bag, then hurried towards the main building, staring at the ground, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. A group of girls strolled past me, like they didn’t have a care in the world, giggling at something. I hoped it wasn’t me they were giggling at.
Making my way through the building I followed the signs to the headmaster’s office. Luckily, it wasn’t far. There were people inside the building too, and even though I didn’t look at them, I could just tell they were watching me.
It was such a relief when the door to the office area closed behind me and the sounds of the school were suddenly shut out, only a dim hum in the background.
“Yes?” asked a smart looking secretary in her 50s, a few strands of her greying hair popping through the lenses of her glasses.
“Hi. Um, I’m supposed to see the headmaster, I think. Tina Ressler.”
“Of course. You’re expected. Please go through to his office now,” she replied, motioning with her head to a door over her left shoulder. I got up and moved tentatively towards the door. Was I supposed to knock first? To be polite? I rapped the wood twice lightly before opening the door, peering inside, hoping I wasn’t going to get yelled at for interrupting anything.
Instead, I found a plump woman with white hair and a cherubic face looking down at some papers. She looked up with a smile when I entered.
“Ah, you must be Tina,” she greeted me, motioning with a hand that I should sit down in one of the seats in front of her desk.
“Hello, Mrs. MacKilley,” I replied shyly, sitting on the edge of the chair. I pressed my knees together and held my hands in my lap.
“I have your class schedule here for you. I’ve gone and seen all of your teachers and let them know about your situation. Luckily you’re transferring early enough in the school year. There will be some work for you to catch up on, of course, but your grades at your old school were good enough that I’m not extremely worried.”
“Thank you,” I replied. I was still worried, but Mrs. MacKilley actually seemed… nice!
“Now, your first class will be science, with Mr. Morris. It would have been good if you could have gotten a tour of the school before-hand, but of course, with such short notice it wasn’t possible. His classroom is nearby, you just go down the hall to the left when you leave my office and his classroom is the fourth door on the right.”
“Ok, perfect.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone to ask about the rest of your classes. Do you have any other questions?”
“No, I’m sure I can figure it out,” I replied with what I hoped was a smile. I wasn’t about to admit to the principal – no, headmaster – that I actually did have a million questions, but none of them were things I felt I could ask.
“Alright, well then welcome to Moreton Academy, Tina.” Mrs. MacKilley rose, and I took the hint and rose as well, shaking her outstretched hand. She had a warm, firm grip, the kind that made you feel welcome, the kind that made you feel safe. Maybe this place wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
* * *
A few minutes after I left a bell rang, and I took that to mean it was time to go to class. The hallways were suddenly flooded with students, each and every one of them dressed in the red and black colours of the school. On the bright side, at least I wasn’t going to stick out that much, I was dressed the same way as everyone else.
I made my way down the hallway, sticking to the sides, trying to avoid everyone, then counted four doors to the right. I entered a science lab that made my old school’s science classroom look like a hovel.
Instead of normal desks, the room was set up in a set of large tables, each with a sink and two gas lighters in the centre, along with four power outlets. Two microscopes sat in the centre of each desk, protected by plastic covers. The walls were lined with posters of the human body, the muscular system, the skeletal system, a large chart of the periodic table and random other science-related diagrams. At the front of the classroom was a Smartscreen, and sitting at a computer off to the side of it was a tall, balding man who looked more like a bodybuilder than a science teacher.
As other students began to file in, they all sat down at the tables. I had no idea where to go, so I went up to the man that I assumed had to be the teacher.
“Excuse me, Mr. Morris?” I asked shyly. He turned around on his chair and looked at me. He was so tall that even while sitting down he barely had to look up to make eye contact with me.
“Yes?” he asked in a deep baritone.
“I’m Tina Ressler. I’m new here. I’m wondering, umm, where should I sit?” I asked.
“Ah, yes, of course. Welcome, Tina. Feel free to take a seat wherever. I don’t have a set seating plan. Welcome to my classroom,” he gestured. That was my worst fear. I was hoping he would have a seat specially picked out for me, where I would have to sit no matter what.
Instead, I made my way back to the tables, clutching my books against my chest like they could protect me. I looked over at the tables. The two furthest back were filled with guys, none of whom looked like they especially cared about their science grades. That was definitely out. Another had a whole bunch of girls playing with their phones and whispering to each other in such a tightly knit circle that I automatically sensed my presence wouldn’t be appreciated.
To a table on my left, however, at the front of the class was just a group of three girls. They were talking to each other, but I made my way over and went to the furthest possible side of the table.
“Mind if I sit here?” I asked, motioning at the chair furthest from them.
“Sure,” one of them answered, then the three went back to their conversation. A minute later, when Mr. Morris started his lecture, my initial trepidation at finding a place to sit was forgotten as I got started on my first ever class at Moreton Academy.
I had my notebook out, ready to take notes. I was going to take advantage of this opportunity to get a great education; I wasn’t going to squander it.
“Now, the other day, I introduced you to the concept of ‘ions’,” Mr. Morris started. I breathed a sigh of relief. This wasn’t some super hard advanced level stuff, I had started reading about ions in the science book I got at my old school as well. “Ions are atoms that have a charge – either a positive charge or a negative charge. An atom is an ion if the number of protons and the number of electrons are not equal. If an ion has more protons than electrons, it is a positive ion, and if it has more electrons than protons, it is a negative ion.”
The class continued for a while as Mr. Morris drew diagrams on the smartboard to explain the differences between the different types of ions. He explained how some atoms could gain electrons and others lose them, and eventually he asked the class a question.
“S
o does anyone know what elements cannot become ions?”
I knew this from reading my science textbook a week or so earlier, but as I looked around the classroom, no one was putting their hand up. I raised mine slowly, almost hoping it wouldn’t be seen.
“The noble gasses?” I answered, making it sound like a question, even though I knew it was right.
“Yes, thank you Tina,” Mr. Morris answered as a bunch of snickers came from the table of jocks at the back of the class. I tried to ignore them, even though I felt the blush rise up my face. Why did I answer that? The last thing I wanted right now was to be noticed. One of the girls sitting next to me did shoot me a nice smile though. I smiled back at her, then went back to my notes.
About an hour or so later the bell rang, signalling the end of the class. In a panic, I realized I didn’t know where I was going next. I took out my schedule and saw I was supposed to go to Mrs. Anthony’s math class.
“Excuse me, do you know where Mrs. Anthony’s class is?” I asked the girl next to me who had smiled at me, who was now packing up her things.
“Sure. Go up the stairs at the end of the hall, take a left, and it’s room number 211.”
“Awesome, thanks,” I replied, throwing her a grateful look.
“No problem.”
I packed up my things and headed towards the door. As I looked up, I saw the most gorgeous guy I’d ever laid eyes on. His blonde hair was dishevelled, but in that sexy just-got-out-of-bed way. The blazer he wore couldn’t hide the fact that under those clothes was definitely a tight body that worked out, his cheekbones looked like they’d been taken straight off a statue and his blue eyes glistened as he looked at me. I felt a tug in my stomach, an unfamiliar feeling, an attraction to this guy. I wanted to grab him, take him into the hallway and press myself against him, have his mouth on mine, have his hands roam my body. I wanted him to take me, right then and there. Holy shit Tina, get it together, I scolded myself, forcing myself back to reality.
Was he looking at me? Oh my God, he was. And he was holding the classroom door open for me, while I stood there gaping at him like an idiot. Jesus, what was I doing?
I scurried past him.
“Thanks,” I muttered as he held the door open for me.
“No problem, nerd,” he replied, loudly enough for his friends that were around, that I hadn’t noticed, to all start bursting out laughing.
My face immediately went a bright shade of crimson and I ran into the hall, the echoes of the hot guy’s laughter still echoing in my ears.
Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I forced them back. How could I have been so stupid? Of course no guy like that would have been interested in someone like me. He was sexy, he probably came from some rich family, it must have been obvious that I wasn’t nearly good enough for him.
I felt ashamed for having had those feelings when I looked at him. He obviously didn’t feel the same way about me. Of course not. I was a plain-looking, slightly on the chubby side fourteen year old. I wasn’t going to be the girl hanging off the arm of a guy who could have passed for a Greek god.
My heart plummeting towards the ground, I made my way up the stairs and found the math class. I knew I shouldn’t have let it bother me, but that sexy guy had just completely ruined my first day at Moreton Academy.
Chapter Four
The next day I saw a poster on the community notice board by the front of the school. Track and field team tryouts were on Wednesday. I was never going to be a runner, that was for sure. Not with my shape. I wondered how serious you had to be about sports here. I liked throwing the shot put when I was in elementary school, and also the long jump was fun, though I wasn’t any good at it.
Maybe the school had a volleyball team. I was pretty good at that. Still, I decided I was going to try out for the track team and I’d see what happened.
After the final bell went on Wednesday, where I made sure to sit at the same spot in science class and waited for everyone else to leave before I did, so I wouldn’t run into that guy, I went to the gym change room then headed outside. I took one look at the group waiting for the track stuff to start and wanted to turn back and pretend I’d never wanted to do this. I was the shortest girl by at least three inches. Every single one of them were rack thin, with the ultimate runner’s bodies, and I was pretty sure if they pulled up their shirts a good chunk of them would have six packs. This was a huge mistake. Of course I shouldn’t be here.
I was about to turn back when I heard a whistle behind me.
“Good, you’re all here,” boomed a loud voice. I turned to see a tiny Asian lady, definitely no taller than five feet, coming towards us with a clipboard, dressed in black and red shorts and a polo shirt emblazoned with the school logo.
“Welcome to the track and field team here at Moreton Academy. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mrs. Chang. I’ll be your coach.”
She had a surprisingly strong voice for such a tiny body. I’d have been surprised if she weighed even ninety pounds.
“Now, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m not here to mess around. You’re all welcome to be on the team, you’re all welcome to train. But this is an academy of excellence, and if I don’t think you’re putting any effort in, if your grades begin to slip or if you’re simply not up to scratch, you’re not going to competitions. However, it’s my job as coach to help you get there, and by the end of the year I want each and every one of you to have gone to at least one competition event. Now, when I point to you, I want you to tell me your name, and the sport – or sports – you want to do.”
There was no denying it, Mrs. Chang was efficient. She immediately pointed to one of the girls to her left.
“Um, I’m Marcie. I’d like to do long distance running.”
“Good. You,” Mrs. Chang continued, pointing to the guy next to her as she scribbled Marcie’s name and sport down on her clipboard.
“John. Long and high jump.”
Eventually she got to me.
“Tina, and shot put please,” I squeaked, my face going red even as I said it.
“Good. So we have… six runners, four jumpers, and two throwing sport athletes,” she noted, going through her list. “I’ll be putting you into groups and organizing separate training regimes for those of you in different sports. If I had my way, we’d have three separate coaches, but apparently the lacrosse and field hockey teams here are considered more important than us. Anyway, today, we start by training together. I want you to start by running two laps of the field to warm up,” the coach finished, motioning to the football field behind us. The lacrosse team were out practicing, the twenty-odd fit men all decked out in their gear and tossing the little rubber ball around like it was nothing.
I had never been much of a runner, but I hadn’t expected to be left behind just as much as I was when everyone else suddenly took off.
This was such a bad idea. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have come here, I thought to myself, repeating the refrain over and over in my head as I jogged along, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. When everyone else began to lap me, the embarrassment got even worse. I wanted to cry. After I’d finished my first lap, I was panting, breathing heavily. I was obviously way out of shape.
“That’s fine, you seem warmed up,” Mrs. Chang told me as I went past her, and I shot her a grateful look as the others were all finishing up their second lap.
“Thanks,” I panted, resting my hands on my knees, trying to get my breath back. I wasn’t sure if my legs hurt more, or my ego.
Five minutes later we were split up into groups. The runners were sent on a run around the school ground, which Mrs. Chang said was exactly 1.2 miles long. The rest of us were taken to the field next to the football field where the lacrosse practice was happening, which was set up with a sand pit and a circle for discus and shot put.
“I don’t have a high jump area set up today, so the four of you are going to be doing long jump today,” Mrs. Ch
ang told them. Go warm up, I’m going to get the shot put balls from inside.”
Myself and the other guy who wanted to do shot put – who reminded me suspiciously of The Mountain from Game of Thrones – looked at each other while the three guys and one girl started practicing their long jumps, leaping into the sand pit effortlessly, like their muscles were made of elastics.
Luckily, it only took Mrs. Chang about two minutes to go back and get the shot put balls. She dropped one at each of our feet.
“Tina, I want to see you throw first.”
“Ok,” I replied, hoping I sounded way more confident than I felt. The other guy who wanted to do this could probably throw me further than I could throw the 8 pound ball. I picked up the smaller of the two that had been dropped in front of me and made my way to the round circle. I took my two steps and threw the ball as far as I could. It sailed maybe ten feet.
TKO (A Bad Boy MMA Romance) Page 18