Disclaimer: I own ALL characters in this story and the storyline as well.
Chapter One
Okay, I seriously DO NOT know why am I even here. Right now, I’m in my school’s administrative office, sitting in one of the couches outside the principal’s office. I mean they seriously can’t think that the latest fiasco in the cafeteria was set up by yours truly, can’t they? I mean look at me, I’m short, and I have natural platinum blonde long loose curls, practically white skin and big blue eyes. I mean, I look like a freakin’ angel.
The receptionist with a salt and pepper pageboy haircut who was sitting at the reception desk in the office I’m in looks at me and gave me a reprimanding look. Her name’s Ms. O’Brien. I swear, even though she tells me her ancestors were from Ireland and that she was born here in the States, I don’t believe it. She’s just so, well, Irish. I personally think she grew up in Ireland. I love Ireland, it’s so quaint. I’ve always wanted to go there. I have no idea why she denies that she grew up there.
I caught her eye, grinned and said, “Hey!”
“Here again? What’d you do this time?”
“Nothin’.”
“I’m sure you did something, somehow again. Hera.”
Oh yeah, did I mention, my name’s Hera? Do you the underworld Greek goddess Hera who was known for her evilness or cruelty? Or something like that. If not, Google it yourself. My dear dad apparently thought that I’d be funny to name me after a goddess known for her mischief because when I was born; my parents thought I looked like such an absolute angel. By the way, I’m not Greek. At all.
“I like the name,” my dad had said. “Gives a huge contrast. An angelic looking kid named after someone known for cruelty. I like it.”
Okay, so maybe I’m a little on the naughty side. I mean, I need to show people I earned my name right? So maybe you’re wondering. What in the world did I do?
Let’s see…. I woke up, went to school, remained good till lunch time, went to the biology lab, saw a cageful of rats and took them to the cafeteria.
I felt sorry for them. They were going to meet their doom later this afternoon. One of my senior friends told me that they were going to dissect the rats and preserve them. Eew much?
So, being oh-so good hearted, I took the rats, brought them to the cafeteria and set them free!
I nodded to myself, feeling good about myself.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I deserve credit. I set the poor rodents free because, well, who wants to die?” I told O’Brien, shrugging.
She sighed and tutted. “I can’t reprimand you for that. It’s true no sane living beings want to die. But they were for a good cause. An academic cause?”
“That’s enough Patricia,” a booming voice said. I looked to my right and saw the headmaster, the principal, and the one who calls the shots around here or whatever. He’s a super tall dude who’s in his late thirties, with blonde hair and green eyes. And annoyingly enough, my paternal uncle and my dad’s older twin brother. And of course, my godfather.
“All right,” Ms. O’Brien nodded and went back to her computer, tapping away on her keyboard.
I looked up at the principal, sorry, my uncle, and grinned. “How’re ya doin’?”
He sighed. “Come in, Hera.”
I got up, dusted my school skirt and followed him into his office.
His office was so, well, homey. Although he wasn’t married and only had a twin brother, ., my dad, his desk and walls were decorated with pictures of his family and ugly scraggly drawings done in crayon. There was an embarrassing drawing, one with a stick man holding a stick girl’s hand with a caption reading, “I luv my unkel Ash!” With the bottom right corner signed, Hera Wolfe.
Yeah, he’s my principal and all that, but I still really love him. He’s my only freakin’ uncle. My mom was an only daughter, just like me. And Uncle Ash (Ashton really,) was my dad’s only sibling.
He caught me looking at the drawing and said, “Any new ones for me?”
I shook my head, “Nope, I was kinda busy.”
“Busy creating chaos, I presume?”
I scowled. “I was being humane.”
“In what way?”
I thought. I recalled the scene in the cafeteria when I let go of the rats. I think the only ones who thought my act was positive were probably me and the rats. My fellow students were horrified, standing on the tables. Geez, who knew guys were such wimps?
“In my way,” I answered simply. I plopped down into one of the cushy seats in front of his desk and arranged my skirt neatly over my knees.
As usual, although Uncle Ash cast a critical eye over my uniform, he said nothing. Although I wore the proper uniform, I altered it a little. The lower part of my school blouse was a band which fit around my hips perfectly, not needing me to take the trouble to tuck it in properly, like the rest of my classmates. And my tie was always loosened, not properly worn tightened, around the collar. If you absolutely must know, I appreciate having enough oxygen?
And my school skirt? Let’s just say, I added pleats to make it look extra-cute and the hem was trimmed with black lace. Black lace suits a pleated red and black tartan checkered patterned skirt, doesn’t it? And instead of socks that went well above my ankles, I wore white ankle-length socks with my plain black mary janes.
And I think I misplaced my school blazer somewhere in my room closet. I didn’t do any altering to that.
“Hera. I think I would appreciate seeing you come into my office less,” my uncle started.
“So you mean you don’t want to see my face?” I asked innocently.
“No, it’s not that. It’s fine to see you. But whenever I see you in school, it’s usually to give you a lecture to behave yourself and to stop causing chaos in school.”
I blinked.
“You do not,” I said, a little offended. “You still see me onstage when I come to receive awards from you, you watch me on the debate team, you still-“
“That, doesn’t happen on a daily basis, Hera.” My uncle gave me a pointed look.
This was one of the times when I feel as if my dad was the one who was talking to me instead of Uncle Ash. Even though I can tell the difference between them, their way of just intently staring into your eyes was freakily alike.
“You can pretend it does,” I muttered glumly. I looked at my hands, twisting my fingers around each other, trying to avoid his overpowering gaze.
“Hera, you’re already fifteen…” he started.
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to remind me. I know I’m short, I need to take more calcium to grow taller, etcetera, etcetera.”
He chuckled a little. “Yes, but aside from that, I think it’s time that you started acting your age, Miss Hera Ashley Wolfe. And stopped behaving they way you do.
I winced. I hated it, no wait, disliked, it when people called me by my middle name. Unfortunately, him being my uncle and godfather, he knew it. My middle name was actually to be after him. Since I’m a girl, I can’t possibly be called Ashton, they changed it to Ashley.
Then I stopped my incoherent thoughts about hating it when he called me by my full name. Did I just hear him use his tone of voice which was filled with authority and finality? If I remember clearly, he used it only when telling pesky salesmen who came to the door that we didn’t want anything. It’s like there was an invisible echo of his voice saying, “And that’s final!”
I looked up to meet his gaze meekly. “What kind of torture are you gonna give me?”
Instead of his usual quiet chuckle, he belted out one of his loud guffaws. Usually, I only heard it when he and my dad are telling each other absurdly lame jokes to each other at home. I’m sad to say, my uncle Ash at home and Principal Ashton Wyvern Wolfe at school are two totally different people.
Uncle Ash at home is full of fun, wild and spontaneous. Principal Ashton, on the other hand, is serious and calm.
“Not torture, sweetheart, well maybe you, being you, might think it is.”
“What is it?” I asked in a panicky voice.
“I’m taking you off the debate team and putting you on the school’s Arithmetic team. I’m taking you out from the Arts club and putting you into the swim team,” I could see mischief burning in his eyes.
“WHAT?!? Are you crazy? I TOTALLY SUCK in arithmetic and I HATE swimming!” I argued loudly.
I disliked arithmetic. I loved literature. Unlike arithmetic, I don’t need to pay extra attention to the teacher in class to learn the proper way of writing poetry or stories. I never needed to prepare myself whenever there was a debate. Arguments came into my mind easily as breathing in oxygen. Ugh, arithmetic on the other hand? I was a total loser.
I HATED swimming and I loved art. I’m a very artsy type of girl. Even though I don’t look like it, I practically lock myself away in the art rooms at school and slave away at my masterpieces whenever there was an art exhibition coming up. It’s true, although I think the Oceanside was very inspiring for paintings and very calming, I. DO. NOT. SWIM. Period.
I didn’t like the chlorine which they used in the pools. Once upon a time, I participated in swimming classes, so that just in case I fell off a boat, I knew how to keep myself afloat. Those must have been one of the worst experiences ever. There was this stupid boy who teased me all the time because I was scared of going into the water. Hey, I was just five all right?
“Oh ,did I mention the Arithmetic team and swim team are going to have a HUGE state-wide competition at the end of the current school year and you are one of the participants?”
Clearly, he was enjoying this.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I choked out, horrified. There was no way I could be a wonderful addition to both the teams. And worse, the competitions are state-wide?
“I’m not kidding Hera. Do I look like I am?”
Even though he had on a calm expression, I could see the stern look in his eyes.
“Do my parents know about this?”
“Oh yes, they agreed wholeheartedly!”
Traitors.
“Puh-leez don’t put me on the arithmetic team or the swim team. I’m not going to spend my time with ner- uh, very smart people and I’m not going to swim with those, people,” I wrinkled my nose. “Because I am really bad at calculating a.k.a. stupid, and I only swim for safety, not for racing.”
“I prefer staying in the art room, preparing for the upcoming exhibition and arguing with other people on random subjects on the debate team. Oh yeah, I’m also seriously allergic to chlorine”
My uncle sighed. “No can do Hera. Those very smart people and people in the swim team might knock some sense and discipline into you. Until you stop being reckless and causing chaos around the school, you will be on the arithmetic team and on the swim team. I was the one who took you to your allergy test. You aren’t allergic to chlorine.”
It was like someone just slapped me.
“Just because I set free the poor rodents?” I asked in a little voice.
“Not only that. The time when you were in third grade, you left your ‘severed human head’ in the conference room; one of the female visiting officials nearly had a heart attack, remember?”
I nodded proudly. “Oh yeah, I loved that piece. I won myself first prize at the state-wide Halloween Creative Competition. I appeared on the news too!”
I remembered that episode clearly. I asked my uncle to let me have the conference room to finish my masterpiece. I had promised him that I’d be out by the time they reached there because on that day, all the art rooms were already occupied.
I didn’t purposely leave my masterpiece there. I was going around the school and looking for a box to put it in. I got a little... sidetracked. And forgot all about it. Anyway, the judges said that I had a natural talent for art. They said I was one of the youngest winners ever.
Uncle Ash gave me another reprimanding look; I took my cue to shut up. “Not only that. Back in sixth grade, you were experimenting with some liquids in one of the home economics labs to get yourself a new paint color for your painting. You left your concoction burning after you made your color and left. The new home economics teacher back then went in thought something died in there and was in hysterics!”
I giggled. “I remember that too! The color I made wasn’t very successful though.”
“I’m not here to look back at the good ol’ memories, Hera,” Uncle Ash said. “You were lucky that you were one of that teacher’s favorite students and that she didn’t kick you out for that. And all the things you did weren’t by accident. There were others which were done on purpose too.”
I stopped giggling and shut myself up. Apparently, he wasn’t reminiscing the past with me. Okay, maybe I might’ve been not so much of an angel back then and now. Don’t blame me. My dad gave me the name. Still, I didn’t want to be on the arithmetic or swim team.
“Or, do you prefer detention and community work for the rest of the school year? It’s either a switch of clubs or that.”
I gulped. Detention was one thing. But community work was horrible. It was either helping to wash up the dishes in the cafeteria, repainting walls, picking up trash around the school or something else. And my school ain’t exactly the smallest school on earth or has the lowest student population.
I saw the satisfied look in my uncle’s eyes. He knew he had dealt out an impossible choice for me. I pondered for awhile. Maybe the arithmetic club wouldn’t be so bad. I needed help anyway, or I’d fail. And maybe swim team won’t be so bad. It’d be a good change from the track and field sports I usually do. On the other hand, if I suck so much, they’ll kick me out and I’ll be free again.
I slumped my shoulders in defeat and sighed. “Fine.”
My uncle smiled at me genuinely. “I’m sorry. But this is the only way we can think of disciplining you. Please don’t hate me or your parents. We’re doing this because we love you.”
Despite my anger at them for making me do stuff I hate, it was hard to stay mad at them for long. “It’s all right unc, I’m not mad.”
“But you must promise me to do your best and give it your all in your clubs all right?”
I nodded. I never slacked off at anything. I was a stubborn person like my mom and a little bit of a perfectionist. We believe in living life to the fullest. To us, it was unforgivable if you don’t try your best in everything you do.
“All right, you can go back to class.”
“All right, see ya after school. Pray that I don't die from swimming or from a brain hemorrhage”
"I'll try."
I got up and exited the room. As soon as I got outside of my uncle’s office, I reached into my skirt pocket and retrieved a white scrunchie. I scooped my hair up into a ponytail and tied it. This was one of my weird habits that I did whenever I was a teeny bit stressed.
Ms. O’Brien noticed this and said, “Stressed?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess. When and where do the Arithmetic club and swim team usually meet?”
“Wait a second, honey.”
Ms. O’Brien turned back to her monitor screen, clicked her mouse a few times and printed out two sheets of paper.
“Here you go; these are the schedule for both clubs. Good luck.”
I thanked her and made my way back to my locker. I looked at my watch. It was already the last period of the day. It was a free period for me. I took out my backpack and headed to the library. I chose a seat near one of the large windows and spread out the two schedules in front of me. I also took out my own schedule of classes and also a blank piece of paper.
I went to work drawing columns and filling them with the names of the subjects I was taking. I referred to the schedules for the arithmetic club and swim team and wrote them in the blank boxes which used to be my free time which I spent either here in the library or hidden away in one of the art rooms.
God, I was so gonna suck.
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