meant to be

Allie has been sent to boarding school. But instead of hating Cimmeria Academy, Allie loves it. Of course there's ups and downs like the every school popular mean girls. But she's making friends and there's Carter, a hot new boy who Allie feels an instant connection.


2. Just me.

Allie sat on her bed, looking at her mirror across the room. She stood up and stud. Her dark blond hair was now tangled and her blood red high lights were frizzy. She wearing a black leather jacket and a dark red top with a slogan ' I'm not weird, I'm gifted' written on it. Allie was wearing black skinny jeans, which were now covered in dirt and mud with many holes in them. Alli also had paint smeared across her left cheak. Her mascara was smudged and her black vans were ruined. she looked at her face she thought she looked pale. Scared. She shook her head.

"Well," she told her reflection. "i cant go to bed like this, shower here i come."


As she fell asleep she thinking about what she had done that day.

Maybe it could have been worse.

Alli looked at herself in the dream and realised it was just before she was arrested. She saw herself in the school, her and her mates allways met here. All the teachers had gone so it was just them in the dark building.

"Hurry up!" said her mate Sam.

"Will you just chill out? I'm almost finished." She saw herself say.

Alli crouched painting the last T as Sam knelt beside her holding the torch. Their voices echoed in the empty corridor. The light beam illuminating her work quivered when he laughed.


A sudden snapping sound made them both jump. lights flickered above them, them flooded the school hallway. Two uniforms stood by the door. Alli dropped the can of paint without taking her finger off the trigger, causing the letter to stretch freakishly down the door of the headmaster's office to the dirty, liinoleum floor


As the word left her lips, she was already flying down the wide corridor, the rubber soles of her trainers squeaking hollowly in the emptiness of Brixtion Hill School. But she did'nt look back to see if Sam was behind her.

She did'nt know were the others were, but if Harry got caught again his dad would kill him. Rounding the corner at speed she turned onto a dark stretch of corridor. At the end of it she saw the green glow of the fire exit sign.

A thrill of power rushed through her as she ran towards freedom. She was going to make it out. She was going to get away with it. Crashing into the double doors, she shoved hard aganst the bar that should have freed her.

It did'nt budge.

unbelieving, she shoved again, but the door was locked.

Bloody hell. If i hadn't just been vandalising the place i'd alert the local paper.

she quickly scanned the wide corridor. The police were between her and the main entrence. The only excit at this end was locked. There had to be another way out! She held her breath to listen. Voices and footsteps heading her way. Resting her hands on her knees, she let out a deep breath. It could not go this way. A secconed arrest in a mounth? Not good. It was bad enough when they made her go to this dreary school. Where would they send her now?


She ran to a nearby door. She tried the handle, locked.


Acrros the hall to another. Locked. she was now Running towards the police. This was crazy.

But the third door opened.

A supply closet. They left the supply closet unlocked but locked the class rooms? This school is run by idiots.

slipping in among the shelves of paper,mop buckets and other electrical equipment she could't identify in the gloom, she let the door shut and steadied her breathing. It was pitch black. She held her hand up against her face but she still couldn't see it. Not being able to see it instantly mest up her head. Reaching out to steady herself, she gasped as a heavy pile of papers began to slip.

Outside the door she could hear faint voices: they sounded far away. She would just have to wait a few more minutes and they would be gone. Just a few more minutes.

It was hot, airless.

stay calm.

She counted her heavy breaths...twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

But it was happening. That feeling of being encased in concrete, unable to breath. Her heart pounding, rasing panic burned in her throat.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...