New Girl

Kay Brown is a foreign exchange student from America into the school Bradford of Doncaster. Upon arrival, she is surprised to meet three interesting men. The one who decided to help her and make sure she was okay no matter what. The one that plays hard to get but might actually be head over heels. And the one with tattoos that hide all of his secrets below the ink and the black. Their names? Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, and Zayn Malik. What happens when your past keeps you from moving on and your future just seems like a murderer is disguise? Who will she pick? Read New Girl, to find out.


1. Blue (part 1)

The smell of newly shined floors and the stench of Expo marker was almost too much to handle. The cherry red lockers were scattered with students names and random stencils of sports, arts, and our school mascot, the badger. My bag swung like a child on a play swing, back and forth, back and forth, never staying still. My mother had declared that if I was going to a new school, I would need a new everything. New bag, check. It's design was like an oversized purse but covered with brown striped flannel with a small red scarf tied onto the handle. She made me go out and buy new clothes. I expect she wanted me to try and find a new style. Like something Girly and pretty because as she says,"You're a girl. Act like it," or something like that. But jokes on her, all I decided on was a "This is My Hipster Shirt" tee and a pair of faded jeans and flip flops. I didn't see the point of finding a new look for a stupid school that didn't plan on expecting me anyway. My hair hung loosely on my shoulders in thick waves. It's rusty red was the only thing that actually caught anyone's attention, not that I cared.
“Name?” a woman chimes, her smile feels like a cruel painted on grimace, like something the Joker would use on Batman.
I looked her up and down. Her hair was stuck with gallons of hairspray to look like the poster child for Office Lady Monthly. It looked like the hair had originally been black, but time had not been kind to the now Salt and Pepper lady. Her skirt was knee length and hugged her body tightly, showing things that shouldn’t be seen. Her top was a turtleneck, thank God. And her shoes were old women loafers that even I knew were a bad choice if you were aiming for the fashion A Team.
“Who’d like to know?” I retort, swinging my bag to the other arm as I stare her down again and look slightly to her left where the locker listings wait.
“They told us you were coming,” the woman’s eyebrows droop, staring at me harshly, “I’ll have you know, there will be no fighting on this campus, Miss Brown. None whatsoever.”
“Mkay,” I rudely laughed, walking towards the listing and away from Salt and Pepper who clearly didn’t like me already, not that I cared.
I pulled my hand from my pocket and carefully moved my index finger over the names to find my own. It was truly amazing how many stupid hormonal teenagers were scattered around this school. In the B section of the names alone, there were a total of seventy-five names.
“This is going to take adjusting...” I whispered, still trying to find my name in a pool of B’s, ha.
“Having troubles, Freshman?” a playful voice played behind me, tapping on the sheet with his finger as he looked at me with his happy blue eyes.
“Junior, thank you very much,” I laugh, looking at him and then back at the name listing, “I can’t find my stupid name on this chart.”
“Name?” he asked, mimicking Salt and Pepper, and nailing it perfectly.
“Birth? Or preferred?” I smile, staring back at him as his brown hair falls over his eyes as he looks carefully at me and then back at the sheet, acting like those last two blinks didn’t happen.
“How about birth, first. So I can find it and all,” he chuckles, rolling his hair through his fingertips and then letting it fall carefully right above his eyes.
I fake shuddered and then formed the dreaded name,” Birth? Well, that’s Kaitlyn. Gross, I know.”
His eyebrows raise as he stares at the wall and then back at me, “Kaitlyn Brown? That’s not too bad, you know. It’s pretty actually...”
I blush and stare at him for a second, “But unoriginal and boring. I go by Kay, by the way.”
He nods and looks at me carefully. He cocks his head to the right, and then to the left, surveying me with precaution. I look at him as well and stare at his oddly colored jeans, red. And his shirt was a pure white with navy stripes that completed the whole sailor look. His hair was swept to the right and his blue eyes pierced mine with intensity. I’m not going to say I was attracted to him, but hey! He wasn’t ugly looking.
“I think you are at an unfair advantage, Mister. You know my name, yet I don’t know yours,” I prompt, looking at the number that he is pointing to as I drag him to my new locker that to my dismay, has a big microphone on the face.
“Ha! You got Mic Locker. You’re a singer now, babe,” he laughs at me, trying to open its doors with the combo he cleverly wrote down, “23, 42, 54. There!”
“Name?” I chime, looking at him intently as I start pouring my books into my locker that has a blinding yellow interior.
“Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson,” he smiles, helping me along with my stuff as he finally plucks an expo marker from his bag and signing the face of my locker as he passes the marker onto me, “Your turn, Kaitlyn.”
I feel my face become a shrill pink as I playfully punch him in the arm and sign my name in bold letters right below his but instead of writing Kaitlyn, I write Kay. As it should be. As I feel the pen leave the locker, I feel Louis pluck the pen away and sign something quick under my name before shutting the locker and looking at me with a big, fat smile on his face.
“What did you do?” I giggle, looking at the locker and then back at him where I pretend to strangle him with my weakling arms.
“Aww, do you not like Kaity Kat?”  he hums, throwing the marker, along with it’s eraser, into the trash bin nearby, “And now you can’t take it off until the end of the year.”
“I can find an eraser, Louis.”
“Not an eraser that will take off this.”
“Really? Why can’t I just go get the pen you threw away?”
“Because you want a friend, don’t you?” he smiled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, “And I want ice cream, my treat. Come on.”
As he leads me through the halls, I’m happy. On stupid Orientation day, I was happy.  Classes started next week and I already had someone to talk to. A friend.
“Oof-!” I call, falling into someone and knocking them over onto the hard tile, “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”
The boy rubbed his head and looked back up to me as he adjusted his lettermen and his curly wad of hair, “I’m good. Are you?”
I nod looking at him and then leaning down to pick up all the stuff he dropped. Pens, paper, and notebooks. Average Junior supplies.
“I’m Kay and I’m really sorry I knocked you over like that. I wasn’t watching,” I choke out, smiling at him as I pass him back his books, “And this is Louis.”
“We’ve met,” he stubbornly announces as he looks back at me and sticks his hand out for me to shake like a true gentleman, “Harry.”
I nod my head and look at him for a minute he seems to be staring awkwardly at me, waiting for the correct words to form in his thoughts. His dark brown hair was molded on his head in bouncy chocolate curls that framed his sparkly green eyes perfectly. He stood tall, towering over me as he looked at Louis dead on. His eyes grazed the scenery until they rested on me and his eyebrows creased and his lips puckered. “Your hair...”
I rolled my hands through my hair and felt something wet, cold, and sticky, which was not the normal temperature of my rusty red locks. I felt my eyes pop as I ran towards the girl’s restroom where Louis’s finger was pointing for me. I felt my feet run faster than my body and I tripped a little which caused more people to look at me. I quickly shut the door behind me and buckled it to the mirror which was littered with cheesy sharpie drawings of hearts and names.
“Dear God...” I whispered, looking at my reflection and then back at the floor.
My head was covered in a thick white mixture that looked like glue. Lord, please don’t let it be glue. It smelled like bleach and lemon juice all mixed together with a big lollipop. I leaned into the mirror to check the damage. I could totally fix this, couldn’t I? My reflection was panicking, my eyes bulged from their sockets which makes me look like a crazy martian.
“What the hell Harry?!” I hear Louis snap from the other side of the door, he sounds really ticked even though we’ve only met a few moments ago.
“Sorry, Boobear. Won’t happen again,” Harry mocked, and I swear I could hear Louis’s breath spike on the other end.
“Who carries around cleaning chemicals in a coffee cup? Were you even thinking?”  Louis snaps, and now I am aware that the chemicals are burning into my  scalp.
“OW!” I scream, rubbing my temple as I make sure no one else is in here, there isn’t.
“Kay, are you okay?” Louis calls, knocking impatiently on the door.
“This stupid thing is burning my scalp! NO I AM NOT OKAY!” I scream back, trying to turn on the faucet to rinse it out of my hair.
Louis grabbed my shoulder and pulled my head out of the sink, making sure I didn’t get it wet. He looks at me and points his head towards my purse and asks if I have a hairbrush, I answer yes. He reaches into the purse and reveals a comb and begins to comb through the hair fully, plucking out the solid pieces are flicking them into the sink.
“You don’t run it under water, it has flour in it. Blame his mother, that woman’s a loon..” Louis explains, still combing my hair, “Would you like to hear the good news or the bad news first?”
I ponder my answer and then blurt, “Good, hit me with some good news.”
“Well, um, you’re getting whatever ice cream you want,” Louis frowns, flicking another clump of flour into the sink.
“And the bad?” my eyebrows rose, looking at him through the reflection in the mirror.
“Close your eyes, okay?” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair and pulling more of the clumps from it.
I obediently close my eyes and only open as he carefully spoons water onto my hair and taps me to open my eyes. I take a deep gasp as I stare at my reflection. The water in the sink is a rusty red and my hair now is just white. WHITE.
“W...What happened?” I stutter, running my fingers through my hair and stopping when it feels like sandpaper.
“The chemical is suppose to take like stickers and paint off of the lockers but it’s a killer to hair. I mean, Sami Warner accidentally spilled some on her tips and it went gray. She couldn’t get it out and Sami was a complete geek when it came to scissors, don’t ask, but she wouldn’t cut it. She still has gray tips...” Louis explains, biting his lip and looking in the mirror, “Well, Kay. You might want to pick a new color soon.”

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