They don't play to win. They play to hurt.
Sterling Academy's irresistible reputation all came crashing down last year when a list of the 'top thirty girls too...' had been anonymously published.
Now recovering from the pits of hell the media dragge...
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cinnamon girl | lana del rey ❝ if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did ❞
"MS ZHU, CAN you please stay back?" Mr Rubin calls from the front of the class as the other students scatter out once the bell has rung.
Emery is the last to leave, with a departing wave. "I'll meet you at your locker," the auburn—haired girl promises as she walks out the door.
"Don't wait for me, I'll be a while." I dismiss to her descending back, as I think back to what I need to take care of before going to lunch.
I make my way to the older man's desk. Mr Rubin is new to Sterling and to the teaching profession, I also presume. He's in his mid—twenties at the oldest and has rich tan skin that goes along perfectly with the mop of luscious brunette curls on his head. He's been deemed the most fuckable teacher on Silvers, beating Mr Hendrick's three—year streak.
In hindsight, this just means his end—of—year gifts are going to be very generous.
"Amber," Mr Rubin begins with a deep settled frown that has an abundance of wrinkles rippling across his lightly blemished face. "Your grades have dropped significantly in the last few weeks," he murmur, turning around his brand new laptop funded by the school to face me.
I scan the decreasing numbers on the screen with a depleting mood. I don't allow any of my emotions to play out on my face, no matter how anxious the low numbers make me.
I've never been necessarily smart in school since it isn't a need for individuals of my status. People claim that knowledge is power but they don't realise smart people have to answer to someone too.
Soon enough that 'someone' is going to be me.
I run a hand down across my straight hair, "I'm under a lot of stress," I begin, pulling the 'mental well—being' card that every other teacher eats up. Mr Rubin will as well if he knows what's good for him.
His dark eyes search mine, but they don't hold the same level of naiveness as the other teachers. "With what, Amber?" He asks.
"Personal stress," I elaborate, and it's true. I've done a thrilling thing which in response has caused a lot of paranoia. I'm currently pretending I haven't so I don't have to face the consequences of my actions. It's going pretty well, actually.
Mr Rubin sighs before his deep set of brown eyes meet mine from where he's seated. "I get you kids don't care for school because you're set in life and all, but a little more effort couldn't kill you. Alright?" He sighs, the disappointment infused into his tone has me propelling back to a time I'd rather not visit.
"Mr Rubin, I am not one to slack off, you've got to believe me. I'm Amber Zhu."
His face doesn't relent from the thorough disbelief. "Amber, what is your end goal here? When you've finished high school and probably gone to college — what's your dream job?"
