Default Stars - Ongoing

"You won't change me." Nate said, his gaze locked on hers, the mumbles of the passing people in the park disappearing along with their surroundings as their focus was only on each other.

"No, I won't." Sara paused, sliding an inch closer to him, "You won't ruin me." His eyes turned hard, he couldn't promise her anything. His head turned to the side, his lips brushing her ear.

"No. But I like a challenge." He whispered. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows furrowing. He couldn't ruin her when she was already ruined.

Sara Mikaela Dean was a smart girl, in her first year of sixth form, and known for being quiet. She excelled in certain subjects but not all of them, and was a little of a geek when it came to reading.
Then there was Nathan 'Nate' Murphy, the popular nice guy, well known for bringing a smile to the table, but no one is ever all perfect. Even he had many faults.
credits to @NightshadeCreepypasa for the cover


4. Chapter 3: Life Is A World War



Chapter 3: Life Is A World War

Song: Waterfall - Stargate ft Pink and Sia

58 Days Before:



She saw him. At her fathers funeral, just the day before. She had stayed up all might wondering why she recognised him. Was he the waiter from Jameson's or the cleaner from her high school. She had seen him from somewhere before, maybe he was just another student from her own school. She was beginning to question herself. She didn't have time to think about this for so long. Her thoughts had to be kept from un-focusing on the work at hand. She had to finish a History assignment and two long overdue Media Studies papers. She checked her watch, leant against the wall by her best friends classroom, hoping she would hurry and pack her bag. She knew Michelle was a classic teachers pet, always trying to manipulate her grades like a nerd, but without the actual studying. She was actually rather smart, she just didn't let it show.

Sara wanted to ask her whether she knew the boy she saw. The one with the dark skin and the sad aura; she felt like it was a cliché novella trying to propel her towards him. But she didn't know his name. At that moment in time it seemed to take priority over her actual assignments despite being on warnings. She knew that if she didn't get the work in then she'd be in big trouble with her uptight overprotective mother but ever since her dad, she was starting to not care about much. She did care about her father before he left her alone in the cruel real world. Her mother was rarely home now, she had recently picked up a 'big' job offer in her home country and took off. Sara worried that because of losing her father, her sister wouldn't have a reason to come home. And her mother wouldn't have a reason to stay.

Sara didn't think much of it then, of her mother always disappearing back home or to one of the other Asian countries, like India or Korea. Occasionally, Michelle joked that her mother and Kim Jong-Un were best friends. Sara usually laughed it off but an inkling of doubt piled up in the back of her mind. What if it was true?

Before she could be sucked into the darkest places of her mind, Michelle swung open the door and the quick byes from her teacher echoed in the corridor full of only dwindling crowds. Michelle grabbed Sara's arm quite roughly and tugged her in an one-eighty turn. The Cantonese beauty winked at a passing cheerleader, waving out a stream of confidence in her sexuality. One that even Sara didn't have as just a regular heterosexual. It was one of the main reasons that she never really dated. Sara had had only one boyfriend, a measly small amount compared to Michelle's rising through the twenties, uncountable-because-she'd-forgotten-how-many. Michelle could have easily been one of the most popular girls in high school. Sara thought that she was more of an accessory. She would have been seen as one of the nicer outcasts, before yesterday.

"You, missy look as if you need a coffee." Michelle swung her grey sports bag over her shoulder. It was the only bag she owned that was for school. It was tatty and old but suited her needs for carting all of her work to and from school. It was also used for holidays, whether her family could afford out of the country or not. Michelle Wang was more of a working class. She handled a job at one of the local spas, in the neighbouring city 'La Mamonte', a grand place for the youngsters, and over-spilling promiscuous upper class members. The few schools there were divided on levels of how much the residents family earned. If it was in the millions then they would be classed as upper and put in all of the best royal academia type schools. For middle class members it was either private school or delinquent school and for the working class it was delinquent school or home tutoring if they could afford it. But Richmond Green worked out better for its residents.

"How is it that you can read my mind so easily?" Sara shrugged off Michelle's arm and then hooked their arms through so that it felt a lot less constricting. She dug her left hand in her pocket, spilling ten day old Jaffacake crumbs on the linoleum floor. Michelle giggled, flicking her highlighted purple and black hair back. The two girls hurried down the main corridor, light breaths escaping them in excitement. Michelle always somehow managed to bring up her mood, she was the light half to her darker side. Sara pulled out a half consumed bag of skittles from her pocket and tossed a few different coloured ones in her mouth before offering some to Michelle who recoiled and refused them.

"Where do you want to go? We only have about an hour of lunch before fourth period and Physical Education calls for the most dramatic performance of Steph Michaels the county's most unfit student." They burst into giggles remembering last years charity assault course when Mr Kenna made Steph climb the Wall - hanging tyres and ropes that help athletic students climb over and land on the other side before doing five shuttle runs with a pre-chosen partner. And what made us laugh was the fact that it took Steph nearly three hours which was drastically longer than what it took for the actual disabled students - whom took only half an hour. They were champs. In fact, among them was our schools best badminton player, Andrea Jameson, who's father owned Jameson's, which is the towns favourite restaurant. She had epilepsy, that's what landed her in the Clause, the group of special help students. The SENCO helped them do things that someone without the disability would find easy. That wasn't to say she was any less than us. That girl was a badass on the court. Honestly, she had turned down the feminist clubs offer several times, but she was one of our local heroes.

"I don't mind, what about Jameson's?" Sara asked, a familiar bell ringing in her head over the words she had just spoke. She reminisced drinking sweet double shot expresso with cream and multi-coloured sprinkles. Jameson's was a popular fast food restaurant aimed at the youngsters of the new generations. Otherwise known as the primary schoolers. The young ones. The kiddies. Sara and Michelle weren't kiddies, they were high schoolers, otherwise known as teenagers. Michelle rolled her fabulously overly made up eyes, her long fake eyelashes fluttering. Sara stopped and turned questioningly to her best friend.

"What? Are you saying that Jameson's is a bad choice. Because we both know you like Peppermint Crowley because its just across from the auto repair shop. Like Michelle, your esteemed like for Bradley will never be hidden well enough." Sara chuckled, in reality Bradley Crowley was a ninety year old man who visited the hospital where Michelle's mum worked frequently due to fake heart palpitations, therefore she knew that it was one of the few things that would get her to pick Jameson's over any other coffee shop.

"No, I'm saying that I don't want to walk into Andrea there. Besides, her father knows that we slept together at Thomas Michaels's going away party last September." She rolled her eyes again, cheeks flushed a pale pink. She shook her head. And then muttered the next line under her breath so Sara didn't hear a thing. She spoke up a little louder, realising Sara's assumption of her relationship with Bradley Crowley. "Eww no, his son is my aunt's boyfriend, and some of the workers at 'Arran and co.' are kind of attractive. Its like a prowling pool for future marriage partners, you presumptuous cowl." Sara laughed straight for several minutes until her stomach hurt with an aching. Her throat felt sore and she felt like collapsing inwardly again.

"I think you mean presumptuous fowl or foul. You know a cowl is a hat right?" She stuck her tongue out at her and brushed her growing out silvery hair out of her face.

"You do know that a scowl is a facial expression right?" Michelle blew a kiss at her scowling expression, waving her fingers in a half hearted dramatic goodbye before walking towards Peppermint Crowley's with a suggestive wave of her hips. Sara rolled her eyes, sending a quick text out to their other friends, saying they'd just skip their next periods and hang out with Sara and Michelle. It would be the quality hanging out of the squadron that no one got from else where. Their group was bonded by experiences, fashion and music tastes. Their IQs stretched from the highest and lowest of the spectrum but they didn't care. Funnily enough however ironic it might have been, none of them were ever popular. They were the outcasts, and they had little to no drama in their group. Such a peaceful bunch. Sara finally caught up to Michelle after sprinting after her, despite the fact Michelle hadn't walked off that far. Sara jogged aside to her, as Michelle just quickened her strides in order to match the pace of her somewhat mischievously athletic friend. Michelle started to braid her long black hair into one big side plait, using a small pale pink compact comb from the inside pocket of her brand new denim jacket. She moved her back pack to her other shoulder, unzipping it to toss her comb in before zipping it back up and slinging it over her shoulders. Sara gave her a sharp look.

"I only just messaged the others, there is no reason for you to dress up, suck up." Sara said teasingly flicking Michelle's hair as she slowed to taking long strides rather than jogging. She stopped to bend down to shove her dirty white laces down the sides of her trainers as both of the girls arrived at the doors of Peppermint Crowley's which was incidentally buzzing with customers. Thankfully, since Michelle had an in with the owner, we got a table easily, on the second floors balcony which overlooked one of the more middle class areas of Richmond Green, well situated far into the centre western quarter, just before the first district, the coffee shop looked very welcoming. And provided a handy view of Arran's and co just on the opposite side of the dividing main road.

"Yeah? Well maybe I'm not dressed up for Tom, Alex, George or Marty. Maybe I'm dressed up for me. Or one of Arran's and Co.'s workers." The nearly unintelligible last sentence of speech that Michelle said had Sara giggling. "You know, earlier you said that you had something important to tell me or ask me. Because I'm quite interested to listen to any interesting gossip." Michelle winked, slyly, whilst pushing the glass entry door open and leaving it open with a door stop to allow that heavenly air to wash out some of the sticky heat that the sun had concocted within our chosen coffee shop. Sara rolled her eyes because the subject Michelle was insinuating at was to do with the boy she'd seen at the graveyard. She only wanted his name, not his number and definitely not the connotations of anything below his belt.

"Fine, but its not what you are thinking Mich." With a glance at Michelle, looking up from the floor, she shook her head, a slow smile appearing. "I'm serious."

"Its hard to take you serious when you smile so wide like that, you remind me of that McDonald's clown. Ronald McDonald." They both burst out laughing but Sara was the first to stop, she took this seriously, she had to know his name. She thought that the inkling feeling came from the fact that though he was far when their eyes met was that he knew her secret. Her secret was that she didn't care for the fancy-pantsy celebrations her mum had held before and after the funeral. She was scared that her fathers death was final, too final and her fears that she might have accidentally had something to do with it though the doctors said nothing more than a heart attack caused it, she couldn't help but feel as if it was something more. She heard someone call her name, from behind her, and turned, seeing no one she recognised. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She felt as if she was being followed. She shrugged it off, plastering on a smile and sauntered through to the stairs. They took the stone stairs two at a time, leaping desperately, though maybe Sara was more desperate than Mich. They sat down at their long ten seated table and waited for their friends to make it.

They ordered a jug of water to be sent to their table so that the availability of water was a choice and was accessible to them. Michelle leant back in her chair, shoving her feet on the table. Marty walked over to them taking a seat. George flicked back her short blue-green hair, skipping over with a smile on her face.

"Gonna tell me now that everyone is coming?" Michelle made kissy-kissy sounds against the back of her hand. George rolled her eyes, opening a small bejewelled mirror courtesy of her really rich parents and checked her makeup in said mirror. Sara never liked the feeling of makeup on her skin when she wore it so she usually only opted for lip gloss or a small coating of mascara.

"Gee, okay. Its nothing sexually intimate like you keep suggesting with those creepily weird sounds on the back of your germ infested hand. Also, I'm not going to repeat this so if Tom and Alex decide to walk in when I'm in mid speech then well you guys will have to summarise it for them. Besides, it's only really some background information to contextualise the question I want to ask Mich." George nodded, understanding immediately, she lazed her head on Mich's shoulder, angled slightly away because of the way that Marty had his hand on her leg. He moved to lay on her and snuggled although she made sure that he was still capable of listening. "Basically, you know how I was at my father's funeral yesterday" They all nodded, slowly. "Well when I was there, I saw a guy at the graveyard-"

"Was it a young version of your father?" Marty asked, as if he had just solved the mystery or that there was no actual, real mystery to solve being the know-it-all that he was.

"No, that's absurd." Sara rolled her eyes and kicked him in the stomach, with the help of George. He coughed, annoyed.

"It was just a question. You women are abusive." George gave him a wet willy and then forced him to sit upright off of his lap. Sara chuckled but glowered at Mich when she poked her in the side.

"Anyway, so back to the story of what happened. So my eyes met with this guy, and he shouldn't have been there because we had booked out the place but there he was despite the signs, putting some flowers at someone's grave. Then he just up and went, walked out and got into a car and disappeared. I didn't recognise him so I was hoping that one of you might." She took a deep breath before beginning to describe him. "He was of average height, rather lean but somewhat muscular, with milk chocolate coloured skin and short dark hair that was very curly but shaved at the sides." She paused before stating her question, to look at the others. George just looked intently at the table, but Mich was staring at the auto shop. "What, do you know him?"

"No, but I've seen him around and he works over there." Mich pointed to the auto shop.



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