Birthright: A Phoenix is Born

Five Seconds of Fame

Please don't forget to vote. It would really mean a lot to me in ways you can't describe. Much love. GaisceKid23

Mrs Aishling Hadragon stood at the top of the class hands on her hips. She wore a thick green turtle neck which made me itch if I looked too close, black skirt, tights and shiny black flats. Her dirty blonde hair arranged in messy knot held together by a short yellow pencil.

As for personality, most of Doyle Park agreed it matched her surname to a tea. She held a perverse taste for forcing students' soft drinks down sinks citing "Health and Safety Reasons". This persona extended into the classroom, however, coupled with the occasional rant on Ireland's subpar teacher's salary, were roasts on the school's faculty and students. She quickly became my favourite teacher.

"Yes, miss?"

"I imagine Mr Cornell didn't come and tell you guys to read up till page forty-seven, the composition of peptide bonds and do the following questions?"

I laughed uneasily.

"You can't trust a damn teacher in this school." She sighed. "Anyway, that's not what I came to talk about. Damian, I am very glad to announce you as the winner of the Biannual Opportunity for Learning Utilities competition sponsored by Mercer Tex." She beamed.

My knees wobbled, forcing me to lean against a nearby desk for support.

"You better a get grip before the photographer arrives." Mrs Hardragon smiled.

Nonsensical words stammered between my lips. Mrs Hardragon had to turn around to hide her laughter. After we both gained a little composure, she sat me onto a nearby chair.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but I need you not to faint here." She smirked. "You're a good worker and I can't think of any student more deserving. Plus waiting for my brother has been a nightmare I no longer want to experience."

"Brother?" I muttered while she called for someone to enter.

The door swayed then crashed against my table. A series of quick fire flares coupled with shouts of " Look Here" erupted from the doorway. My eyes watered adjusting to the brightness, but soon the outline of an East Asian man with strong gold complexion appeared from the wall of flash photography.

He was dressed in an immaculate two button mulberry suit with a white undershirt and black slacks. Imprints of feathered birds and scaled dragons embellished his attire. Paired with jet black hair slicked to the side and snow white teeth. The trail of peppermint never far.

"You're - you're John Mercer, founder of Mercer Tex. You're like a millionaire." I gasped.

"Actually, a billionaire. But who's keeping score?" Beamed Mercer. "And please call me John."

"Mr Black, Mr White please would you be as kind as to close the door."

Two behemoths, one white with white hair, the other black with black hair both in matching black suits and military-approved buzz cuts crouched under the doorway and shut it behind them, silencing the pandemonium.

"These two are my bodyguards, Mr White and Mr Black." He pointed to the black and white man respectively.

"They're here to ensure I don't get kidnapped or anything. One of the struggles of being as rich and famous as I."

"More like your personal paparazzi control." Mused Mrs Hardragon.

John stiffened. Straightening wisps of parting hair.

"Hello Aisling, still married to that farmer I presume?" A cold flatness evident in his tone.

"Still ignoring Mom and Dad?" Mrs Hardragon teased.