Little Miss Perfect

Lacey Phillips is the perfect girl, the girl who has the life you only see in books written by shitty young adult authors. But what happens when the exchange student from Australia comes in, and flips her whole world upside down.


1. Mr. from down under

Slamming the alarm button for the upteith time I fnally dragged my sorry butt out of bed, and turn my mangled strawberry blonde bedhead into the shiny silky smooth mane it always is. I put on a pastel pink tunic with lace leggings, ate a bowl of fruit loops, and dashed out the door and into my new Honda I got for my 17th birthday, and drove to school, singing along with Katy Perry to her hit single “Teenage Dream”.


I was Lacey, The perfect girl, the valedictorian, the sweet virgin, and the person everyone loves. Who everyone should adore.

I came from a wealthy family, the Phillips family, owners of the Phillips Country Club, one of the best in the world.

I go to an elite private school in west  New York, one of the best in the whole country may I  add.


I have the most perfect life anyone could ask for, the kind that people only dream about, or that they read about in shitty online published books written by young women.


But hey, im not complaining!


I drove into the parking lot of West Village Academy, and parked into my sparkling, perfect car into my parking spot; the best one in the whole school.


I walked down the hallways, being either admired or hated, but thats the problem with being popular. You are either adored by jealous bitches, or hated by jealous bitches.


I rocked all the way to my first hour: Chemistry.  I sat in my usual spot, the one that made sure that the pervy old teacher could look up my skirt when he sat at his desk. He tried not to get caught, but its hella obvious.  I sat next to the most unfortunate people, which is totally unfabulous. Behind me was a fat asian kid named Kevin who smelled like orange peelings all the time, and to my left sat this scrawny, tall, pale, pierced to death, lesbian goth freak who only wears leather pants and black lace, and has the same braid, stringy, ponytail shit that looks like hell, but kind of good.


But then, a boy, a NEW boy comes and walks in. Total hottie alert! He has the tan football arms, with a swimmers body.


“Attention class, this is Chris. He is a foreign exchange student named Zac. He came all the way here from Australia, say ‘hello’ class!” the fat pig (Mr. Kosinski) booms through the classroom.


The boy looked my way as the entire class said “Hey” in unison. He gave me a smug smile and a wink that would make most girls heart stop. But not mine. I made my heart beat faster.


“Where should I sit?” He spoke with a thick Aussie accent. He was still giving me that look.


“Behind Kevin please.” He pointed to the seat, two behind mine.


He walked with a certain swagger that only people with big egos and a taste for trendy rap music would. He brushed right past me, his warm flesh scraping against my thigh.  


When I felt him, his skin. My whole world changed.


My heart rate flew off like a jet plane.


The blood in my body warming up, rushing like a boiling stream.


I have never felt like this before, everything was now going in slow motion.

I watched his sit in his seat, still giving me that smug smile.


I wanted to feel more of his skin, to feel the warmth.


the warmth of his blood.


In that moment, on that very day, I knew.


I fucking knew.


That was the boy.


That was the first boy I was going to kill.

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