- Sara Sharma- I had never liked Lucas Thatchwood. He was cocky, rich, rude, idiotic but smart at the same time, and he was captain of some athletics teams. Me, on the other hand, was, frizzy hair, crumpled shirts, glasses, and an overworked newspaper team head. We had been in the same school since kindergarten, and now all of us from Williamsburg High School were getting shipped off to some rich kid boarding school called Saint Maria’s or something like that. Always a white person’s name. Rarely womens. All the rich kids would fit right in of course. Their parents all probably went there. But for me, the first of my family to even go to a boarding school, the pressure was on. I had to survive 8 years here, and then I could start my career in journalism. I had my life set out. Planned. Ready to go. It was like growing up in a corset, getting tighter and tighter as I grew. “Hey Sharma! Catch!” Someone yelled as something almost smacked me in the face. I angrily grabbed that dumb football, and threw it as hard as I could on that rich kid bus. “How ‘bout you catch Thatchwood!” I shouted as I threw. It hit his smirky dumb face as the bus screeched to a halt. I looked at the window and nearly shouted again. Everyone began to oohhh and ahh and the HUMONGOUS building. Even Thatchwood got up from the floor to look. “Welcome Everyone, to Aethel Institute.”
TBC!! I don’t rlly care if no one sees this, I’m just happy to write! :)
