A/N: Hi, so, um, I know that I haven't worked on this story in about a year? Maybe less? I dunno. I'm super sorry for being gone, I just had a lot to do and then got bored with it and, well, procrastinated. So here I am again, back from the dead, and I am working on editing the HECK out of this story. It's pretty bad...
NOTE: I have included a lot more details and new bonus parts, so I recommend reading from the beginning, even if you have read it before.
So, enjoy!
Chapter 1
I really wasn't expecting this school year to be too different from any other year. I just looked forward to be spending time doing something again. It seemed to me that my summers were always so bland and dull. All I did was sit around in my library, surrounded by books. I mean, I would've done something with someone. I would've gone out with my friends.
...However, I had no friends.
So school was actually kind of fun for me, and not just because I got to go to a different, foreign place and get to stay there the whole year. Not because I always did well in school either.
No, the reason was simple. So I could be with people.
I'm actually not too fond of people in general, however I do appreciate the feeling of another person in the same room as me, their life force rich and powerful. I also love to study them, learn more about the human mind and tendencies of people. I think I am quite good at reading people, and I can do it from just their expression or the look in their eyes.
"Arthur!" my mother bellowed from the bottom of the staircase. I ran out of my bedroom in my plaid grey socks and stared down at her.
"Yes, mum?" I asked, my head peeking over the pretty white banister.
"Are you almost done packing?" She asked, wiping her powdery flour covered hands her crisp white apron. I smiled.
"I'm practically finished," I stated, and turned around "I'll be down soon."
And with that I disappeared back into my room, slammed the door and huffed, running my hand across the soft button-ups and sweater. Sure I would miss my home. Sure, I'd miss my family.
But is it so wrong to want to leave?
I neatly folded my shirt and placed it gently on top of the small pile of clothes in the suitcase. I have a peculiar fashion sense, hardly like the rowdy generation nowadays. I prefer to look proper, neat and crisp, not messy and torn up and raggedy like so many of my fellow adolescents. I have been told before that I was born into the wrong generation, and I couldn't agree more.
I slowly closed and locked the tan suitcase, letting the familiar scent of lavender coming off of the old piece of luggage fill my nose. I stood up, gently brushing off my clothes. Walking over to the mirror, I came face to face with myself.
I ran a hand through my light blonde hair, annoyed at how it would never stay straight and neat, like my fathers'. But, then again, I seemed to taken more after my mother anyway.
I have a rather petite figure, slim and short. I've always wanted to be taller, or possibly even more muscular, but I suppose that that's life. I have wide, green eyes. The really bright kind. On top of those are rather thick eyebrows that I definitely wasn't fond of at all. Everyone on my fathers' side had these eyebrows, and no matter what you were stuck with them, like a curse. It suited my rowdy red-haired cousins quite well, seemingly a part of them. But on me, they stuck out like a sore thumb.
I nodded to myself, then grabbed the large suitcase resting against my knee. It took me a second to pick it up, since it was rather heavy.
I huffed, painstakingly pulling the worn, tan suitcase along behind me. I stumbled down the stairs and ran straight into my father.
He was a short man, like me, but he was incredibly strong. His dirty blonde hair was combed neatly across his head. He was a refined businessman, and I wanted to be like him when I was older.
I grinned nervously at him, backing slightly away. He just chuckled and ruffled my already messy hair. I swatted his hand away.
"Ready to go?" He asked, his deep voice reverberating through the open halls of our home. I nodded curtly, and he put a thick arm around my back and led me outside. My mother waited, leaning against our old station wagon with red teary eyes. I sighed. I went away to my boarding school every year, and every year she'd cry.
You think she'd be used to it by now.
I ran up to her and hugged her, my small body curling easily into her taller, slimmer build. She closed her watery eyes and smiled, pulling me closer.
She had long golden hair that she always had tied up with a neat ribbon. She loved the color blue, so that's pretty much all she wore. But it suited her nicely. She had light, pale, mint green eyes. She always looked stunning, and no one could deny that.
My mother pushed me away and dabbed the corner of her eyes with a lacy white handkerchief.
"I love you so much!" She wailed and threw her arms out yet again, pulling me into a suffocating bear hug. I rolled my eyes at my father and he just laughed his deep laugh."Well," My mother sniffed, letting me go for (hopefully) the last time, "let's go."
A/N: Hope you liked it! (and it's improvements!)