The words still played over in my head. If they're the words from this time round, I have not a clue. I've moved sixteen times. Sixteen fucking times. That's a lot considering I'm only seventeen. So yeah, you can see why hearing the words that can really fuck someone's life up really don't faze me.
My parents are both originally from England, but they say it's too boring. My mum, Tiffany, she says they got bored of Cambridge and decided, when I was seven, that it was time that they 'experienced what the world had to offer' before they died, and said that it was too much of an experience for me to miss out on. So they didn't dump me off at my aunts – I was bloody appalled when they told me that they'd even fucking considered sending me to my aunt Libby's – I never was quite sure if that was a joke or not. But I was damn thrilled that I didn't have to stay with her. Libby is just plain, utter boredom. I get really bored easily anyway but an hour with Libby has me on the floor either asleep, or dead.
Before this latest move, I'd been living in San Jose, California. It was nice enough. Not the greatest place I've been, but it wasn't the worst, and on the upside; it was warm. I lived in Greenland when I was twelve. It never got warmer than ten fucking degrees centigrade. I shuddered at the thought. It was terrible. I hate cold.
Now, however, we've moved to Washington. Some little place where it rains a lot and the populations so small your neighbours know 'when you've bought a new pair of socks', as my dad said. I was ecstatic when he told me – really freaking ecstatic. I can't remember what it's called, though. There's really no point even learning the name of where I'm going to live, I move on so quickly, I'll be lucky if it leaves an imprint on my life.
"Can you help me move the box's inside, baby?" Tiffany called. "It's starting to rain again!"
I groaned and hauled my arse of the mattress I'd just managed to get into my room and traipsed downstairs.
"I'm surprised she even heard you, Tiff. What with those headphones constantly blaring in her ears," my dad said and my mum fucking giggled at him as she passed me a box. I ignored them, dumping them in side and going back out to pick up another box before it got soaked. You learn after years and years of your parent's constantly making fun of you to just ignore most of it.
"Oh, leave the poor girl alone, Harvey. She's a teen, she's got millions of hormones swarming around her confused little body; she's allowed to be moody."
"Tiffany! Jesus fucking Christ!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide and I motioned my presence. "I'm right here!"
She slapped me around the head lightly. "None of that swearing, you!"
Tiffany really hated swearing. She also disliked being called 'mum'. Not a damn clue why, though.
"Your cousins are the same age as you, and they ain't as grouchy," my dad mumbled.
"Oh yeah, I'm real fucking sorry I'm not perfect like little miss sunshine and her empty headed brother. Too bad you got stuck with the shit child."
"Stop it! You're too young to have such horrible words coming out of your innocent little mouth."
"I'm seventeen, Tiff."
"Yes, Francesca, that corroborates that you are, in fact, young."
"Are we done here? There's no more boxes and I'm not going to stand here in the rain all day and listen to you to ramble on about pointless stuff."
"Don't talk to your mother like that," Dad said, pulling an earphone out of my ear.
I grunted angrily at him. He always fucking does that! It pisses me off so bad, you actually wouldn't understand. I'll just be walking to the kitchen, minding my own business, when his finger will pop out of nowhere, pulling the cord, and effectively the earphone, out of my ear. It seems petty but when he does it so much, I just can't control myself. You know when you have a super annoying father, and it just seems like anything they do will annoy you? Yeah, I have one of those.
"Sorry," I growled out through gritted teeth, although it physically pained me to do so.
How I haven't killed my parents yet is beyond me.
I have minor anger issues. Said anger issues usually result in me becoming abusive. Harvey bought me a punch bag so I can get my anger out. I named the punch bag Harvey Junior. Dad thought it was 'sweet'… he thought I named it after him as he bought it for me, not that I named it after him so that when I was angry and punching the life out of the bag, it will remind me of Harvey so I end up tiring my self out because I got so angry.
"You can go sort your room out, missus hormonal," Harvey said and I scowled at him while he and mum snickered to each other.
"Ha, ha, ha! You two are hilarious," I said as I all but stomped back up to my newly assigned room.
My parent's lives revolve around making mine worse. I mean, I do love them – sometimes – they're great parents, they're just absolute nutters. And they love to embarrass me. They're constantly trying to come up with new fun and interesting ways to make me want to disappear into the ground. They just have a skill for it. Noone in the world is as good at annoying me as they are.
"Rise and shine, sweetheart," Tiffany said as she shook me gently, stroking some hair out of my face.
I grumbled something incoherently and turned over, burying my face in my pillow. Even I don't know what I said, or was trying to say.
"You know, honey, you really need to sort out these sleeping issues you've got. You're seventeen, in a few years you're gonna move out and have to start work; you won't have me to wake you up every morning."
I just mumbled a 'fuck off' at her, but she ignored me.
I knew it was coming, I knew it. I get it every fucking morning. But when that ice cold water splashed over me, I still screamed like there was no tomorrow.
I jumped up from my bed, hoping around the room, shouting my lungs off.
"Fuck! I hate you, Tiffany! Hate, hate, hate! Arg! That's fucking cold! Bollocks!"
"Yes, Fran, it's supposed to be cold. Harv's already started up the shower," she said, but I was already in the bathroom.
Every morning single fucking morning this happens. Tiff comes into my room, armed with a glass full of freezing cold water, sometimes ice cubes as well – depends on whether she's wants to spice things up a little or not – and if I don't get out of bed, she pours it on me. Preferably, for her, the face. But day's like today when I have time to roll over, it's just over my back.
Over the years of her trying desperately to try and get me to get out of bed, and her never succeeding, Tiff was going mental. Then, there was a pipe burst in our house when we lived in Germany and me being so damn lucky, had a room just below it and part of the ceiling fell in, dousing me in freezing cold water. Tiff said she'd never seen me move so fast before. And thus, the cold water had been her preferred method of waking me up every morning since. Thrilling story, is it not? My mother just likes to torture me. My worst nightmare would be to freeze to death. I have said it before and I shall say it again: I hate the cold.
After the shower, I got ready for my first day of school. Most people are nervous for their first day at a new school. To me, though, it's practically an everyday experience. I don't get nervous anymore. It's not like there's any reason for me too. I'll be out of here within a short while, and noone will remember me at all. Apart from the odd 'hey, remember that really angry girl? She was here for like a week or something, weren't she? Didn't she punch about five people in the face?' noone will say anything else, so I don't really care.
I opted to wear these super thick black leggings, a pair of these belted black/grey boots, and a long grey t-shirt with a huge, thick as hell, black cardy. I barely ever wear leggings, I just couldn't be arsed to root through my suitcase to find any jeans this morning. Plus, they're warm and from the looks of the frost on my window, it's gonna be hella cold today. Tiff always goes on about how I should wear skirts and stuff, because I have 'great legs'. I do not have great legs. They're long, yes, but my thighs are like massive chicken drumsticks. I'm six foot one, so I'm guaranteed to have long legs. Yes, you heard correctly, six foot one. I know; I'm freakishly tall, I've been told before. I've been six foot since I was fourteen, I'm used to it. Harvey's really tall, at six foot three, so I think I get it from him. Luckily I don't look anything like them – I knew this girl once who was the spitting image of her mother and somehow her father, but I don't even really resemble any of my parents – apart form the height thing from my dad. Tiff is tiny, though, at about five foot two. My mum and dad look absolutely ridiculous when they stand next to each other. They're very much in love, though. They're, like, perfect for each other. They're both unbearably weird and annoying. And sickly. Very, very sickly.
Anyway, within the hour I was at my new school, in my first period of the day, English. Oh how I love English.
Note the thick sarcasm.
"Class, this our new student, Francesca Lee Morley. Francesca, why don't you introduce yourself and tell us something about yourself?" the teacher said in front of the whole class when I walked in.
I just stared back at him for a moment before I turned to the class. "My name's Francesca Morley and I am new," I said slowly and simply and he frowned, his eyes sparking with anger. I don't like teachers a lot. We don't really see eye to eye. I hate school. I've never been a studious person and English definitely is my worst lesson, so I can't see myself and him getting on very well.
"Not really what I meant, but... there's a seat at the back of the class room," he said in an annoyed tone and I made my way to the back.
I sat down and the girl in the chair next to me sent me a smile, which I probably should have returned, but didn't. I don't really like to smile at people I don't know. It's weird and fake.
The two people who were in front of us turned around, smiling. "So, where are you from?" the girl asked and I refrained from sighing. Great. I was already someone's new 'thing'. It always happens. As soon as the new person joins, people battle over who can sink their claws into them first, wanting to get some excitement. But then, in a few days, they get pissed off at my bitchiness, and I have to take a hike. Its not like I care, it's just a waste of time for me.
"Originally?" I asked and her and the boy next to her nodded. "England."
"Ooh! Really?" the girl squealed. What a fucking stupid thing to ask.
"No, not really. I just lied to you," I said, pulling a face at her stupidity. Her face fell and her eyebrows joined together in confusion.
"Oh. So where are you really from?" she asked and the boy next to her snorted and turned back around, shaking his head.
"Veronica," the girl next to me said, "I think she was bring sarcastic."
Veronica's face hardened in confusion and she turned to the front quickly. I snorted and the girl next to me rolled her eyes. "She's such a bimbo." I nodded I agreement. "I'm Tara, by the way."
I nodded again, shrugging. "Cool." It really doesn't bother me what her name is.
The rest of the lesson went past as equally as boring, with Tara saying random stuff, and me either ignoring her or saying something bitchy.
She was all-right, though. Not as bad as half of the kids that I've been forced to hang out with in my lifetime. I should probably be nice to her. I'm not some spoilt little girl, I don't get high off of being mean and acting 'superior' than other people, like I've known many people to be like, I just know that there isn't any point in trying to get her to be my friend. God knows how long I'm going to stay here, acting lovely and welcoming and friendly and talking about why I moved and introducing myself and talking all about my life every place you go gets excessively tedious. Especially considering I usually have to do this to at least twenty people every new place I live.
The bell went and we both stood. "So, what do you have next?" she asked and I checked the timetable I was given.
"Erm - history, with Mr. Clearwater."
She smiled. "Me too. Hold on, I'll walk you there," she said as she walked away, grabbed a girl who was sitting across the room and met me at the front of the classroom as I made my way out.
Tara smiled again. Jesus, she's way too fucking smiley. Why is she acting like this? I was just mean to her, and yet she's still in 'lets be best friends' mode. "This is Danielle, Francesca."
I nodded to her. "Frankie - it's Frankie. I really dislike the name Francesca."
They both smiled warmly at me. "You know," Tara said. "That's probably the most friendliest thing that's ever came out of your mouth."
I actually found myself smirking, which caused them to raise an eyebrow. "I didn't think it was possible for her to produce anything so close to a smile," Danielle said and I shrugged.
"It's funny, 'cause it's true." They laughed as they directed me to our next classroom.
"You're going to love Mr Clearwater. He's the loveliest teacher you'll have ever met," Danielle said with this dreamy look on her face.
Tara snorted. "Danny's got a bit of a crush on him."
Danielle frowned and shoved Tara while I shook my head.
"Trust me, I won't like him. I have a strong dislike for all teachers," I said and Danielle snorted.
"You say that, but you haven't seen him yet."
"No, really. I won't."
"You will. I have never, in my life, met a man so ridiculously nice as I have him."
Tara laughed, "Danielle likes to over-exaggerate now and again."
"It's this class," she said, pointing to the room next to me and I opened it, stepping through.
And then, then I saw him.
I didn't know who 'him' was, but I felt like I should. Like I was meant to know every single thing about him.
All the air and life gushed out of me as I stared at the single most beautiful looking man I'd ever seen in my life. His head turned to me, and his eyes widened and his face became one of shock. His amazing brown eyes softened as I stared, open mouthed, at the absolute god in the middle of the classroom. He was fucking gorgeous.
Not even that. Words couldn't describe him. I didn't think it was legal for someone to be so downright sexy. I had the urge to run at him and take him in my arms.
I could barely even breathe.
I've never felt like this about someone.
Hell, I don't even usually like someone when I first meet them, but this, this is just weird. But strangely brilliant. I felt, stupidly enough, like there was some sort of connection between us as I stared into his eyes.
He was already so damn mysterious to me, and I had this massive urge to just find out everything, anything about him. I just wanted to know what he was like, who he was, what he was doing here, what his life his like, what he's been doing, what he plans to do, even just if he's okay. Damn, I needed know these things.
The girls giggled as they pushed me forward. "I know, hot teacher, right?" Danielle said and I cleared my throat with a nod, trying not to punch her in the face. For some reason, I felt awfully protective of this man, like no other person should ever even look at him, let alone call him hot. But believe me, hot he was.
The beautiful man that I now presumed was in fact my teacher, stepped forward. Now I know that it definitely wasn't legal. No teacher should ever look sexy, let alone to this extent.
I couldn't help but feel dread and disappointment wash over me. I mean, a teacher? Seriously?
Arg! Why the fuck do I feel butterflies and all this shit? He's my teacher! And yet I already feel like a pathetic little schoolgirl with a pathetic little crush.
He smiled brightly – like, ridiculously brightly. I thought his cheeks were gonna drop off. Fuck. He's amazing.
This boy on the other side of the classroom dropped a box of books to the floor, resulting in a loud noise. Everyone's heads snapped to him and he grinned, "sorry, sir." Cocky bastard. Mr. Clearwater just waved him off before turning back to me. I was glad. In that short moment I'd missed looking at him, into his eyes.
"Sir," Tara said, "This is the new student."
He gulped. "Y-y-you you're the new girl?"
Jesus Christ! Save me now! He has the loveliest voice ever heard in my life. It's so deep, and husky and... my teacher's voice! Why does he have to have such an amazing voice? I love deep husky voices, and his was just fucking perfect. I have always had a thing about voices.
Why, oh why, God, did you have to give him such a heavenly voice? Why not just damn me to hell right this moment?
I nodded and his eyes widened as he stared at me, his eyes travelling down my body and up again a few times. It was excessively embarrassing. I usually don't care what people thought of me... but with him, it felt so different. I really wanted to please him, make him happy, and make him think good of me. I don't usually let myself think that about anyone. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, running over his bottom lip.
That has got to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. Holy crap.
I also just had this urge to get closer to him. I willed my feet to stay where they were though. I don't think I could control myself after the lip-licking thing.
"The new student?" he asked looking like he was proper panicking, like, hyperventilating-panicking. I frowned and nodded. "Here? At this school?"
Well, now I just feel unwanted.
"Err, Mr Clearwater?" Tara said, breaking his trance. He cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as his face scrunched up.
Finally he seemed to get a grip and he sighed, turning away from me to talk to the class. "Right, everyone, take your seats. You shall be carrying on with your preparation work for your projects."
Everyone nodded and made a way to their seats, I looked around the room, trying to find a spare seat.
I made my way to the front next to this boy but Danielle stuck her hand out, grabbing my arm.
"Erm, no, Frankie. That's Naveen. He doesn't talk to anyone; he's a bit of a… weirdo, to put it nicely. Don't sit with him, noone sits with him."
I snorted and yanked my arm out of her grip. "I guess I'm a 'noone' then," I said and their eyebrows almost disappeared into their hairline as I started walking backwards, to the front, "but thanks for the warning," I said in a false tone and widened my eyes at them.
Tara cleared her throat and pulled Danielle off, who muttered something to her. I rolled my eyes and sat down in the seat at the front, next to Naveen. At least that was an excuse to get rid of them. And I have major issues with girls like that. Why should anyone care about what other people think? For all I know this Naveen kid is the nicest person ever. Why shouldn't I give him a chance, just because he's shy? If I were him, I'd get angry if every person I ever came across warded off of me just because everyone said I was a 'weirdo'. That doesn't matter. Hell, Naveen could become the president – he could become a terrorist for all we know. I should get on his good side, 'cause it's always the weirdo's who go on to do big things.
"Hi," I said, he looked up, blushed and turned away. "You're Naveen," I stated and he barely even made a move that let me know he could actually hear him, looking down at the table. "I'm Frankie."
I heard some snickers from the back of the classroom and Naveen turned to look at them, then returned his nervous eyes to me. "I d-d-don't need your p-p-pity. And-d if y-you're here t-t-to m-make f-f-f-fun of m-me, j-j-just g-giv-ve up-p," he stuttered and I snorted.
"You'd be waiting a long time for my pity, Naveen. And I'm not going to take this piss out of you," I said and he raised an eyebrow, but quickly dropped his head.
"T-then wh-wh-why-why s-sit here?"
I shrugged. "People like them piss me off."
He nodded and then turned his head back his book, a blush on his cheeks.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, sending a shock through my body. I snapped my head to the body that the hand belonged to, trying not to gasp at the unworldly feeling of the touch, and my eyes rested on Mr. Clearwater. He smiled this sweet, gentle, soft smile and I could almost feel myself smiling back, although I tried not to, but it didn't work. Like I said, I don't usually smile at people. It gives people the image that you want to talk to them and be their friend. I don't want the attention. I used to put on an act when I came to a new school, pretend to be someone different for each place I lived. Now, I couldn't give a fucking shit. I just want to get there, get my stuff done, and get fucking packing again. The most I ever stayed at a place for a time was a year, so the people I pretended to be weren't too extravagant, as it would be hard to keep it up, but it made it more fun to just act different to the boring, temperamental, tall girl who was obsessed with music. But now, things seemed so different with him. So, so, so different.
His fingers ran down my arm lightly and I stared up into his eyes. He had such a beautiful, tender look on his beautiful, and yet again, tender face. There was just something so warm and comforting about him. Warm in both senses - his fingers were hot. All I wanted was to run into his big, muscled arms and hold his lean body against mine - forever. Bit much, considering I'd only known about his existence for about ten minutes.
Argh. What the fuck is happening to me? I don't feel like this about people! I don't get emotionally attached to anyone, and yet, already, I felt like I wanted to grab this man and lock him away in a room so it was just me and him for the rest of our lives.
I'm turning into a bloody physco!
He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, which I really hated. I almost just grabbed his hand to hold in mine. I had to constantly remind myself that he was in fact my teacher, not some sex god sent to me from the heavens.
It was also weird that I wanted to touch him. It's not like I have intimacy issues, I just don't particularly enjoy touching strangers. If don't know them, I have no emotional relationship with them, so why the hell should I want a physical one with them? Why do people feel the need to touch people they don't know? I just don't get it. You don't achieve anything from it.
"You, umm, don't know what everyone's doing," he stated, and I nodded. He was so sweet and soft and gentle. Usually people like that annoy me. Kindhearted people always seem to make me look even worse. But him, he was something different. Something much different.
But he's forbidden. I cannot fine him sweet, soft and gentle.
"Nope," I said. "Obviously." He blushed a little and my eyes widened to the size of saucers. He was absolutely fucking adorable – for a teacher, I mean.
"Yes, right, of course." He jogged lightly over to his desk, rummaged around before finding a file, and walked briskly back to me. It gave me time to acknowledge his fantastic physique. He was very muscled. He was wearing black trousers and a plain white shirt. Yum. "Here. It's got the project aims and objectives on it," he said and I took it from him.
"Thanks," I said, and he smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. I just continued to stare at him, getting lost in the look on his face. But then I saw Naveen out of the corner of my eye, looking between Mr Clearwater and me. I coughed and then he seemed to stop it too, clearing his throat.
"Not a problem. You basically just cover anything you want, something that you find interesting. You weren't here, obviously, when we covered the Quileute tribe, so you don't have that option," he said, although I barely even took in what he was saying. I was to preoccupied with watching the way his mouth formed words, the way his eyes shined when he spoke, how his voice was rough but yet so soft and gentle, along with the way his cheeks got slight dimples when he smiled. I was also very drawn to the slight stubble on his face.
Bloody hell. What the hell is going on with me today?
"Yeah?" he asked finally and my eyes widened, not knowing anything that he just said.
He gave me this bright smile, his teeth shining.
Oh dear lord. Save me now.
Okay, what do you guys think? Okay first chapter? I promised my 'Love Is Strange' readers I'd give them the summary, but I kept forgetting, so I thought I'd give you the first chapter instead.
Frankie's character is - similar to my other characters - a strong girl. I hate writing weak girls who got imprinted on because I believe that a real wolf wouldn't mate with a weak wolf, and imprinting's been described to be able to produce strong children, so I think you have to be kinda kick-ass for that. Although some of my OC's aren't always emotionally stable, they are somewhat strong deep down.
Anyway, enough of that. What did you guys think abou the idea? Seth being a teacher will bring in quite a bit of trouble. How about the next chapter is in his POV? I want to have that in there, but I know some of you guys don't like the wolf's POV until later.
Pleaasee review so I know whether you guys will want to continue reading this :)