This is just chapter one of many more to come. I'll give you a brief overview of the story.
This country girl moves the big city and absolutely hates it. But on her fist day of school everything changed when she finds a note addressed o her but with no name signed at the bottom. She then keeps receiving notes randomly in her locker, or in her desk, some even just fly into her view on a breeze. She then falls for the boy writing her the notes, and he some how knows everything about her. He's perfect for her. But he may be dangerous, like a stalker. But she doesn't care as she's so engrossed in his love. Then her Mum finds all the letters and becomes very concerned and moves her back to the country with her Dad, but the notes keep coming even in the country. Her Dad then becomes involved and then it becomes a big family feud. He writes her a letter asking her to meet him and of course she willingly accepts. Not sure what happens next.
Perhaps you could help me 
It's a tad long, but please read the entire thing
So anyways, here's chapter one: The City is Strange.
I sat there for a long moment as the fireworks danced across the clear night sky like rainbow serpents, not bothering to celebrate the New Year with my family. The music blasted through the house and flowed out to the balcony where I sat. Everyone inside was dancing clumsily and singing off tune to some old 80s music I’d never heard before. Vibrant balloon bouquets were spread around the dance floor, some even filled with helium hung from above the messy dance floor. Rainbow streamers were being thrown across the dance floor, which just four hours ago was my cosy living room. I personally think my mother went over the top with this year’s New Year celebration. Because for me, the New Year only brought false hope. Hope that things might be different this year. Easier.
Last year was everything but easy for me and my family. My parents finally got divorced after three years of separation and fighting over who gets what – mainly fighting over whom I would live with after the divorce. My dad got to keep our house in the small town of Broken Hill, New South Wales. So my mum was sentencing me to live in a flashy two bedroom apartment in the heart of the city of Melbourne, Victoria.
She knew that I loved the pleasant, welcoming feel the country had to offer. Waking up to the whistling birds and the smell of warm toast, falling asleep to the buzzing sound of the little crickets. But she still went against everything I said about not wanting to live in the city which to me would be my own personal hell, and moved us right to the heart of Melbourne. Now I wake up to the sound of busy traffic and car horns, and all asleep the same sound.
As angry as I was about the move, I was even more nervous. What was there to expect of a giant city like Melbourne.
I tried to be optimistic about the move, but it was hard. I had to leave my closest friend, Rosie, back home in Broken Hill. Rosie and I were as close as two friends could ever be. We used to say even blood couldn’t make us closer, because we were practically sisters already. But we had never handled separation well.
When she went on a family holiday to Mooloolaba, Queensland last year I called her every night to see how her day had been and to check if she was okay. After just one week of separation she convinced her parents that she was old enough to come home on an earlier flight. We could barely handle one week without going mental without each other. How were we expected to handle a permanent separation without going utterly insane? I really couldn’t justify how this move was going to bring anything but misery to my life.
But trying to stay on the positive side of things – not that I was trying very hard to be positive - this could be a fresh start for my mum and I. Hopefully easier. I thought that maybe the last few years that were filled with struggle and complications, was just karma catching up with me. I’d never been little-miss-goody-two-shoes, but I wouldn’t consider myself one of those rebellious teenage troublemakers that can’t help but cause chaos around the clock. It was a possibility that all the little things I’d done were getting back at me. Like three years ago when I tried to detach the battery from my dad’s car. I ended up absolutely destroying the engine, and the closest mechanic was three or four towns over. I only did it because I overheard mum and dad fighting when he announced he was leaving us. And of course no 12-year-old girl wants to see her family splitting up. I was only trying to stop him, to save our family.
But I’d never done bad things just for the sake of doing a bad thing. I did bad things to try and stop other bad things from happening. So that’s got to count for something I guess.
“Scar?” My mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I hated it when she called me Scar. Thank god she reframed from using that nickname unless of course she was under the influence – and of course she was drunk, it was New Years. I swivelled in my chair to face her. She was wearing a silk magenta dress with beading down the front, a yellow feather bower, her hair was a mess – pieces of the colourful streamers were knotted through her wavy brown hair – and of course, she had no shoes on. Her favourite pair of silver stilettos that were encrusted with jewels – and about 3 inches high - came off soon after the third bottle of champagne was brought out. She was clearly a drunken mess.
I peered around her to look through the open doors to see that everyone that once filled the dance floor had gone home and the party was well and truly over. Thank god.
“Mum, you should go to bed. You’re a mess.” I said, whilst trying to hold back a smile. It sounded like I was her mother, not the other way around.
“No, Scar. The party is just getting started!” she cheered as she stumbled and clutched the table for support.
I jumped out of my chair to hold her up.
“No, mum. You should really go to bed.” I chuckled. This was so typical of my mum. She was so young at heart.
She closed her eyes and slowly nodded, waving me away from her.
“But I don’t need your help, Scar. I know how to walk by myself. You don’t need to baby me.” She slurred, most of the words running together in one long hum.
I ignored her and pulled her arm around my shoulders and dragged her to her bedroom. When we made it to her bedroom door she pushed the door open with her foot and loped towards her bed, throwing herself into the sea of brown furry cushions that decorated her bed. Once she was lying down she was asleep within seconds. I was pleased with myself, she had never been this easy to get to bed after a big night – my god, I sounded as if I was her mother. I turned and gently shut the door behind me, making almost no sound. As I walked down the hall, the awful mess that was my little living room crept up on me. I was going to have to clean this up all on my own.
The once neat arrays of streamers were in tatters and pieces were scattered all over the floor, and the balloons had all be popped throughout the night, only two helium balloons survived. I went over to the door where the helium balloons were trying to escape out the balcony door.
“I’d try to escape if I were you,” I said to the balloons. I shook my head as if to shake the ridiculous thought from my mind. This place was driving me to near insanity. I was talking to balloons.
I grabbed the two balloons and let go of them outside and watched as they drifted up into the starry night sky. Before I got too carried away with the night sky – looking up at the stars made me feel like I was back home - I went back inside to clean up the mess. I made sure every piece of shredded streamer and popped balloon was picked up and put into a big rubbish bag. Then once the floor was cleared I mopped the big white tiles till I could plainly see my reflection in them.
Once I’d done all the cleaning, there was nothing left to do in this small apartment but go to bed. But I didn’t feel sleepy enough to fall asleep. So I settled for getting into my pyjamas and reading a book in bed.
My thoughts kept racing around my head making it hard to concentrate on the words on the page. I tried to really look at the words, and put up a wall to block my thoughts. But the wall finally crumbled and all the terrible thoughts came flowing in. What would school be like? Would I make friends? Or would I be the new country girl that no one liked? The thoughts just became louder and I gave up on the book. I rolled onto my stomach and threw the book down onto the floor and then pushed it away from the bed – I didn’t want to trip over it in a sleepy daze in the morning. I began building the wall again, and the once loud thoughts became silent, finally.
I was going to have to think about it sooner or later. I chose later.
I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly I found myself sinking into unconsciousness not realising how tired I really was.
I slept soundly and dreamlessly that night. When I slipped back to consciousness it was early morning, maybe 6 o’clock. I rolled over desperately wanting sleep to find me again. But I was too well rested; I couldn’t keep my lids shut. I jumped out of bed feeling energetic. Too bad I couldn’t go ride my horse, Freedom, back home. That would surely wear the energy away.
I was trapped inside this apartment for the day, unless I wanted to go get lost in the big city. I quickly got rid of the thought. I’d never survive a day in the city alone.
I went to the kitchen to cook myself some breakfast, when I saw an unfamiliar navy and blue outfit hung neatly over the arm of the couch. I didn’t recognise it, maybe it was mums. I walked over to the couch where the garment lay, confusion struck my mind. This wasn’t anything I’d ever seen my mum wear. It was a light blue dress with pleats and a navy knitted sweater with an emblem reading, Melbourne Grammar School.
“Ugh” I groaned to myself. I clearly explained to mum that if she insisted on moving us to Melbourne, I wasn’t going to attend some snobby grammar school where all the girls just pretended to be friends and all the boys thought they were God’s gift to women. I began to wonder what my first day of school would be like and then became – to my surprise – somewhat excited. The luxuries of a private education could be nice. Back home in Broken Hill I attended Broken Hill High School, which was so worn down and old. It might be a nice change to be educated at a school with more than two computers. I stood there almost shaking. I was wrong, school would most certainly be a nightmare. Thousands of students all on one enormous campus, all the technology and large modern buildings. I definitely was not going to be able to handle Melbourne Grammar School. Just the thought of it sent out a full forced panic attack. My breathing became rushed and the sobs broke out from within me. I longed for the simplicity of Broken Hill, everything was so normal there. At least I had at least a month until school started. I’d use the month to prepare myself.
I was still standing by the couch now gripping the sweater with a force that could do damage as a stray tear rolled over the rim of my eye and down my face.
* * *
I awoke already dreading what today would bring; it was my first day of school. I slowly sat up in bed, now feeling the result of a restless night. I had sat up for most of the night last night thinking – more like worrying - of all the possible outcomes of today. Would I make friends? Would I be stereotyped as the country girl? Would I be laughed at just for being the new girl? I was probably just psyching myself out, but I couldn’t help but feel anxious. The sun was brightening my dull blue walls, so I figured it was about time I got out of bed. I crawled out of bed - not able to do anything with enthusiasm on this particular day – and went down the hall to the bathroom to have a shower. I turned the water on much too hot. But the steamy water helped calm me down and undo all the knots down my back from my restless sleep last night.
After I was sure I’d used up all the hot water I got out of the shower and tightly wrapped myself in a towel, trying to keep all the warmth of the shower inside it.
I went back to my room to pack my school bag, not even knowing what was essential on the first day. So I packed all of my notebooks, my pencil case, and lunch just in case – but of course they would - they didn’t have a canteen.
I put my light blue dress on and pulled the navy sweater over my head. The material was so perfect, it must be expensive. I looked at myself in the mirror starting at my feet and making my way to my face. The uniform was quite preppy, but I kind of liked it. And then once I made it to my face I started to worry about what everyone would think of the way I looked. My almost black hair waved to my waist. Was this the in hairstyle in Melbourne or would I be mocked by everyone. My jade green eyes were my favourite feature. And I couldn’t do anything about them if no one liked them. But my skin tone was always changing. I’d go out and ride my horses in the brilliant sun for the day back in Broken Hill. By the end of the day I’d be a nice tanned colour. But after a week or so the nice tanned colour would be gone and I would be back to my usual ivory colour. Most days here were cold, so no one was outside without anything less than a jumper for warmth. So I guessed that not many people would be darker in skin tone than me. I was safe in that department.
I decided I’d worried enough for this morning and went out to have breakfast with mum. I was surprised to see that mum had already gotten out of bed and made me fried eggs on toast.
“Good morning!” she sang with a grin spreading from ear to ear as she placed the plate down in front of me.
“Morning, mum.” I mumbled. “Thanks for breakfast.” I forced a smile onto my face, trying to look genuine.
She soon turned sympathetic, obviously seeing through my bleak smile.
“Sweetie, it’s going to be fine today. I’m sure you’ll just love it.” She tried to reassure me. But she failed.
“Yeah I know, mum. I’m most likely overreacting.” I didn’t look at her when I spoke to her. I didn’t want her to see deeper into my façade. She didn’t need to be worrying about me. I ate my breakfast slowly, not in any rush to get to school.
Once I’d brushed my teeth I put on my shoes, grabbed my bag – it weighed a tonne – and headed for the elevator.
When I got down to the underground car park, mum was already waiting for me in her little black Mini Couperus. I dawdled to car and she revved her engine with an encouraging smile on her face. I dumped my bag in the back seat and then climbed into the passenger seat.
“Are you all set?” she sounded excited.
“I think so.”
“Have you packed everything you might need? Wouldn’t want to make the impression that your unreliable on your first day now would you?” she was laughing now.
I’d always been forgetful with my school work and stationary. I didn’t see how it was funny. Nothing was funny today.
“Yes, mum. I packed all my books and my pencil case.” I exclaimed.
“Okay. Well let’s get going then!” she sang as she sped out of the car park.
We didn’t speak on the way to school. I just stared out my window at all the buildings. They were intimidating and tall, all of them staring down at me. I shied away from the window. I felt so small in this big city.
When we finally reached the school, I forced myself to peek out the window and look at my new school – more like my own personal hell. The buildings looked old, but they were beautiful. Each building was like a magnificent work of art that a painter had slaved over for days on end. So mesmerising. No where near as intimidating as the big city skyscrapers. I felt a little more comfortable here, a little more safe. I decided the school buildings felt friendly enough so I slowly got out of the car, trying not to be knocked over by my own backpack. But instead of making a grand, graceful entrance to my first day of school, I fell face first right into the cobblestone path. Ugh. So typical of me to ruin a first impression. Anyone that saw my clumsy manoeuvre would without a doubt be laughing at me. Ugh, ugh, ugh.
I pulled my arms from underneath me and began to push myself to my feet. But once I was standing I noticed a small square of blue – my favourite colour - paper on the path. I picked it up to read it and then planned to toss it in the nearest bin. But as I read the neatly written words I realised it was a note addressed to me. What? I read it again. This time more slowly and I really thought about the words.
Dear Scarlett,
Welcome to Melbourne Grammar School.
Don’t be worried about this strange new school. You’ll be fine. I promise.
Yours truly...
But there was no name at the bottom. No one knew who I was yet. No one knew that I found this school strange. No one knew that I was worried about it. So who in the world could have written this note? Perhaps it was my mother.
“Mum?” I called to her slowly, a little bit confused.
“Yes, dear?”
“Did you write me a sort of good luck letter?” She was looking at me now and I could see that she was just as confused as I was.
“Um, no. Did you want me to?” she seemed sympathetic now. Like she felt like she should have written me a letter wishing me well on my first day.
“Oh. Okay. No, it’s fine. It’s just… It’s nothing.” Maybe I shouldn’t tell her about my secret pen pal. She didn’t need to be worrying about me.
“Are you sure? Is everything okay?” now she was concerned. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Yeah I’m fine,” I said nodding my head slowly, “everything’s okay.”
“Okay. Well have a good day baby!” She called out to me as she shut the door and sped off. I turned around to face the school.
I stood in place for a short moment, preparing myself. But really there were no preparations to be made. Anything that was gong to happen today had already been decided according to fate.
Come what may, I thought to myself.
I began to walk down the path, and then under the black iron arch that curled in all different directions then blossoming into brilliant roses at the ends. I could see the school more clearly now. It was massive, like a maze. I took a death breath. “Come what may,” I whispered to myself, walking further into the brick maze.
Please review this, i really would appreciate some feedback to improve from
Thanks, xx
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