Sad, Beautiful, Tragic.

This is about a girl. A plane Jayne if you will. Not the most beautiful girl, but pretty in a subtle way. She was odd with corks and wasn't perfect but perfect in her own way. She was the nicest girl you would've ever met. Genital and kind heated. This is how 5 boys of every girls dreams noticed her. They became friends but nothing more. Until things started to change-BIG things- and emotions flickered and things were never the same. This is the story of how a small town girl met some troublesome boys.


4. Chapter 4, It's Brittney Bitch:

             (A/M: ya'll can see Lucinda's outfits on polyvore, the link is in my BIO/discription!!!!!!)

Chapter 4, It's Brittney Bitch:

“Ok, ok thank you... Yes I know were the 3rd floor is.” I try and huddle the old house mother. I never told y'all were I was going to love once I got to the U.K.... I'm in a prestigious drawing academy for the talented and gifted. The program included drawing, painting, sculpting and more. My stick is painting and drawing and in all that's the only thing I was good at. Throughout my whole high school life I was the quite/ weird girl that got pushed into her locker, had her lunch money stolen and also the girl who never stayed in one place too long. I got passing grades but i was in advanced art and received the only a A+'s out of all 30 of the other students on any given project. I to paint on large canvases the size of chalkboards. I just got a thrill of giving life to a blank being and having it be what I wanted it to be... It just gave me a sense of control over all the crazy in my life. I unlock the door to room 305. I push the plain white door and step into the pail yellow room and put my bag on the single queen sized bed and take a look at the barren room. Since this room was so small I got to have a queen sized bed instead of a twin and a roommate. A a white desk was pushed up against the far wall close to the door. A tall lamp with different lights on different levels stood by the desk. A white night stand with a pull out drawer took residence by my bed and there was a closet with sliding doors on the wall straight across from my bed. There was also a flat screen on top of a small dresser with four long drawers. 2 boxes had been shipped from my home and know sat by the closet. I pull out my pure sheets and light yellow flower print comforter, and put them on my bed. There was a couple of hooks scattered across the walls so I hang up some of my framed drawings of my flowers, and my brother. On the wall beside my bed I hang a 30 x 30 painting of the Eiffel tower and the streets of Paris with lots of twinkling lights the stand out against the painted black sky. This painting has won me 13 blue ribbons and this painting is what got me 3 full ride scholarships to 3 different schools. I was ready to get away from my crazy life so I chose this school in the United Kingdom. Since I had 0 friends it was perfectly acceptable for me to up and leave without saying goodbye to anyone but my mom and my brothers in his grave. Basically I'm not perfect and that's why I didn't have any friends. 5'6, size 6 with wide black curls that looked like I'd used a curling iron and plump, dusty rose colored lips with honey brown eyes. Basically I was short and stout with my mothers fair and pale skin, unlike my brother who had had my fathers olive skin because he was Greek hence my black curls. My brother had also had my mothers honey brown eyes and blond hair. I set up my dirty wood easel in the middle of the floor and fill up a large bucket will my paint supplies and set it at the end of my bed, also folding up clear tarps so I could paint and not stain the hardwood floor. I set them in another basket and flop down onto bed, taking a look at my schedule. I had classes on Mondays for 8 hours studying art history for the dirt 2 hours, a life drawing class 3 hour and for my final 3 hours of the school day I have 2 hours of introduction to sculpting and 1 hour of creative writing to help write descriptions for our art work. My schedule repeats like this 3 times a week; Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, all of my classes starting at 8:00 pm, which releases me at 2:50 or so.

“Oops!” Giggles a girl who was obviously a bit tipsy.

“You're not Stacy.” She says with distaste. I look at her, dressed in a bright pink sweater and the tightest black skinny jeans I have ever seen in my life. Also sporting a pair of Martian Louboutins, with the tell tail red souls.

“And if you're not Stacy than who are you?” Ok then...

“I-I'm Lucinda.”

“What kind of name is Lucinda?” She says my name like it's a disgusting word that shouldn't have been allowed to grace her pouty pink lips.

“Who are you again?” I ask shyly.

“It's Brittiney bitch.” Some one's listened to 'scream and shout' one to many times.

“Ok nice to meet you Brittiney.” I give her a fake smile and put my schedule away.

“Ok so since Stacy obvi got the boot from the school you'll just have to come clubbing with me tonight!” I can feel my eyes widen as she slams the door shut and flops down into my bed.

“I don't club...” I start.

“Too bad, so sad. Tonight things change! You're coming clubbing weather you like it or not.” She looks at me smugly and gets up, walking to my closet and throwing the door open. The hell is going on?

“Were are your cloths?” She asks, still dumbfounded I point to my 3 suitcases. She unzips them and starts hanging clothes up in my closet and putting them in drawers. She pulls a shoe rack from under my bed, he explained the each room has one, and sets it in the bottom of my closet also putting my limited collection of shoes on the rack.

“You have nothing good in your closet!” She taps her foot impatiently, “We're going shopping tomorrow and its on me.” She says smugly. I just nod. Thrift stores had always been sufficient for me. No need for a 50 dollar t-shirt. I never shopped at American eagle, Aeropostale, ABercrombie Fitch, or any other name brand store, hell, I barely had anything from JcPenney! She throws a blue and pink Aztec print crop top at me. It had a wide razor back and the front didn't cover all of my slightly-less-than-flat stomach.

“Put these on.” Brittany says, throwing me my only pair of heels; Shiny black stiletto heels that my mom had bought me when she was clean for 5 months and had money to spend on me.

“Here put on these jeans. " She hands me a pair of dark skinny jeans, “Also, put on the top but without a tank-top.” I just nod and start to change quickly as she goes back to fixing my closet. I finish changing and she turns around with my brush in hand.

“I'm going to go and get my straightener so I can flat-iron your hair!” She winks and runs out of the room. 5 minutes later she returns with hair ties and a powder pink ribbon, along with the black flat-iron.

“Sit.” She commands and I comply. I sit in the desk chair since there was a plug next to the desk. She go's to work on my head. I sit silently as she works the hot iron threw my curls. 20 minutes later she's finished and my black hair is now pin straight. She pulls my hair into a tight ponytail and ties the ribbon around the black hair tie.

“Volià! My work here is complete” she claps and then unplugs the flat iron.

“Be down stairs in 5 with your I.D., fake or otherwise is fine!” I stare at her as she leaves the room. What have I gotten myself into? I shake my head and apply some peach baby lips along with some more black eyeliner/ mascara. I grab my purse along with My real I.D. I'm 18 turning 19 on April 14 so I'm technically legal. I rush down stairs, trying not to trip on my 5 inch heels.



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