A Complicated Completion

o n e - i hate them all

E L I Z A B E T H

"I hate them all."

I slammed my locker shut, it shook with such intensity that the ones next to it may have fell.

I locked in on my target; the doors. My shoes clicked on the glossy tiles as I held my phone up to my ears. People around me seemed faded like they weren't real, I could put my hand through them like a ghost, I just wanted out as fast as possible.

I was probably eliciting stares, either from my loud angry actions or the fact I was the new girl. Maybe I could scare them all off so they wouldn't talk to me Kat Stratford style.

"You don't know them E."

"Oh but I do Pad, I've met a million of them."

I don't know what he could do 220 miles across the country, I'm completely stranded here. Yet I still rang him like he was a few minutes away, but it was his voice, his presence on the other side of the phone that made me feel more at ease.

Pad. Paddy to most. Patrick Olsen on his birth certificate. My best friend and partner in crime, but most of the incriminating things I've done it was Pad getting me out of it rather than doing it with me.

He just knew me like no one else, I never had to pretend with Paddy. He was always the one to make sure I was home safe after a night full of my antics, he could just sit and listen or talk and talk if I wanted the painful silence to stop.

I told him everything, and he understood. He understood why I did what I did but wouldn't ever encourage it. He was just a good listener, his advice would be amazing if I ever finally learnt how to take it.

We were at that point of friendship were he wasn't even a friend he was my second brother, my twin. It would feel normal just going to his house and sitting in silence in his room, we didn't have to compensate for awkwardness with meaningless words we could just be. Eliza and Pad, best friends that required no effort.

"You're so pessimistic, give them more than one day."

I opened the door to my Tesla and sunk into the white leather seat, hitting my head on the head rest and sighed. Paddy was right, I probably should give them more time to prove them selves but I'm not going to. I've made up my mind I don't like them. Here I go again ignoring his good advice.

"I just don't like it here Pad, I want to come home so bad."

"I know, I know, but your mums not going to let you come back here and don't even attempt arguing with your dad."

I looked up at the school and felt the instant feeling of dread. I made through one day and it wasn't even a real one, tomorrow would be we're it actually starts.

St Agatha's Private School.

It's modern exterior with glass windows showing the insides of every room. For the tution fee's it should look a bit nicer, it was nice for a school but not a £50,000 per annum school.

God, I hate it so much. I hate the fact I've been ferried off to London, where I know no one when I could have finished year 13 in my old school.

No one was talking either, they can't give me a plain reason because they fear my reaction if they tell me. Dad wants me here probably either to do with business or the fact that my mum can't handle me alone, you've never seen me in my prime at home. A complete wild-child, so they've brought me to some stuffy school so that it can do something the last 4 haven't.

For years mum and I have lived up north and my dad and my brother Josh have lived in London.

My dads reason was that it was closer to business but my mum would rather stay closer to her parents so we spilt and only acted like a normal family on holidays and school breaks or when they visited. It was unusual but not unheard of, I think my mum was eternally grateful that she didn't have to participate in high society at home and could just do what she wanted but in London that's not going to be the case.

They always loved each other, mum and dad, they made it work miles apart from each other but it was contrived. Their love stemming from a political and finical gain of merging their fathers businesses with marriage, and in that they found love. It was something i could never understand, that my choices were taken out of my hands, i never dealt well with that hence the probable hurricane that is about to hit my home if i don't get clear answers on why I'm here soon.

Half of the problems at home came from dad not being there, I got mum in my pocket and after that I was free to do as I pleased. That's exactly what I did, as I pleased. They couldn't stop me from doing what I wanted so they dragged me 220 miles to control my life. So they can pretend to be the perfect cookie cutter family.

But with each time I choose my own choices they edged a little closer to trouble and before long it was out of hand. I can see that, I'm not as thick as they think. I just don't get why they think I'll change because they're mixing me with posh kids.

I could turn it around, I could buckle down and maybe they'd let me go home or maybe I'd piss them off until they just give in and I'd be on a one way ticket to Liverpool. I needed to choose my plan of action soon.

So I could get out of this stupid school and city and back to my real home.