Thank you to both Hadeer and Joanna for beta'ing this.
Chapter One:What I Want
A young girl, no older than eleven years old, woke from her slumber and climbed out of her double bed. She flicked her dark, brown hair over her shoulder. Her eyes squinted, adjusting to the light that was spread across her room.
Her frilly pink curtains were already pulled open and her overly large room, fit for a princess, was spotless as usual. She never had to so much as open her curtains or tidy her bookshelves like a normal child. Her parents paid a maid to do such things for her.
She didn’t live like a normal child, and she wasn’t treated like one, especially at her school. They treated her like a typical snobby little rich girl who thought she was better than everyone, like a princess. The only people who talked to her were the other rich little girls whose parents paid highly for them to go there.
She hated being treated differently. It never ceased to surprise Leah how her parents could use money like toilet paper when children around the world were starving and homeless. But her parents never listened to her. She wanted to be treated like she wasn’t rich. Her parents never listened to her.
It wasn’t like Leah had been raised like royalty her whole life. Only for the past five years had she been rich. Leah had been at the Orphanage from when she was a few days old to when she was six years old. Then the Reeves had adopted her and she was treated like a princess up to now. She remembered those six years of her life clearly. The simple clothes she wore, nothing fancy but still warm and comfortable. The food they ate was nothing expensive, as the Orphanage couldn’t afford it, but it filled and satisfied her. Her education: one of the adults there taught the children subjects such as English, maths, and science, but they didn’t have the equipment or anything she had now.
She tried and tried to get her parents’ attention. When she had begun to fail subjects at school, they had hired an annoying tutor to help her catch up with the work.
The maid’s voice, calling out to her, snapped her out of her thoughts and alerted her to the fact that breakfast was ready. Leah sighed and hurriedly dressed in her fancy school skirt which was a depressing, dark grey colour, top, and jumper with the school emblem on it. The jumper was also a depressing colour of grey, only a little lighter than the skirt. When she had put on her brand new school shoes, she hurried downstairs before the maid could call out again
Mrs Roberts, the maid, was a middle-aged woman who remained tight-lipped to everyone except to Leah, mainly because she didn’t treat Mrs Roberts like a maid, but a person. She a kind hearted, plump woman with little wisps of grey hair in between the black and were clipped back with a cheap, plastic clip.
Leah flashed Mrs Roberts a quick smile, which the maid returned before her parents entered the room, already in their business clothes. Her mother’s hair was up in a tight bun, her face perfectly made up. She looked at her painted nails on one hand while the other held an expensive mobile phone to her ear.
“No, Simone, you will have to tell Mr and Mrs Marshall that I don’t have an opening next Thursday. I am a busy woman, Simone,” she said, her voice carrying itself around the room. “And have the paperwork for the Mitchell case on my desk by the time I get there, at…” she paused to check her watch. “nine-thirty.”
She clicked a button, took her usual seat at the table and clicked her tongue impatiently for Mrs Roberts to place her breakfast in front of her.
Leah’s father followed his wife into the room and took his place at the table also. His black suit was free of any wrinkles, and even his mustache was neatly combed. Like his wife’s had been, his mobile phone was pressed against his ear and he talked loudly, completely ignoring Leah.
The three Reeveses finished their breakfast at the same time and got to their feet. Margaret and Matthew hurried to grab their briefcases. Leah remembered a time when she was little, when she had wanted paper to draw on, and she had used paper from her parents’ briefcases. They had been so mad.
Leah followed them to pick up her already packed bag, and the three exited the house.
Mrs Roberts was only delayed to take off her apron, but by the time she got outside Mr and Mrs Reeves had already left with a quick “Goodbye sweetie,” to Leah. Mrs Roberts hopped into another car to drive Leah to her school.
It looked rather like a jail with its tall gates and fences, Leah thought. She hopped out of the car and turned to grab her bag.
“Have a nice day, Leah, dear,” said Mrs Roberts, “Try and keep those grades up.”
Leah cast her eyes downwards, but forced herself to smile at Mrs Roberts as she said, “Will do. Say hi to Mr Roberts.”
Mrs Roberts pulled away from the curb and drove off. Leah sighed heavily again and faced the school entrance. The bell rang and girls hurried past to get inside before the gate shut.
Leah just slipped into the school courtyard. The gates clanged shut and another horrible day at the Institute for Young Girls began. Sure, they were treated like princesses here, unlike public schools in London, but Leah hated being treated like that, she only wanted to be normal.
The bell signaled lunch and Leah gathered her books, fast, and hightailed it out of her English room. She reached the courtyard and glanced around. Other girls were coming in packs, gossiping loudly about what had happened on the weekend or about the cute boy next door they liked, typical girl things. The courtyard was covered in concrete except for a little patch of neatly cut grass near the tall fence. Leah stood for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the beaming sun upon her face. Although she enjoyed the sun now, if she sat in an uncovered area, she was sizzle like a sausage in the fry-pan. She was almost see the waves of heat in the distance.
She resisted the temptation to seat herself on the patch of grass and kick her shoes off. She loved the feel of the individual blades of grass beneath her toes. Unfortunately, a group of particularly nasty girls were already seated there and she thought to herself bitterly, I see them enough during class, I don’t need to be near them during lunch if I can help it
Leah took a nice, shady spot beside the Administration office and dropped to the ground, cross-legged.
She pulled a heavy textbook from her bag and opened it. If her bad tempered Math teacher sprung another surprise quiz on them, she wanted to be ready, or at least try to be ready.
Leah sat trying to read her Math text when a shadow appeared over the book, blocking the sunlight.
She looked up and inwardly groaned. Miss Popularity, aka Myra Campbell, was superiorly staring down at her. She placed her book back in her bag and stood slowly. She was a foot shorter than Myra, so she didn’t gain much of an advantage.
“Listen, freak,” Myra sneered, “You’re in our spot.”
She gestured to the three girls behind her, who turned their perfectly-shaped noses up at Leah. Not a single hair was out of place in their pony tails. Each one was combed perfectly back into the pony, refusing to fall into their unblemished faces.
Leah looked at the spot where she had been perched. She had a sudden thought. Perhaps if she had a fight with Miss Myra Campbell, her parents would pay some attention to her.
“Don’t see your name on it, Myra,” she said coolly, “So how is it you think it’s your spot?”
Myra looked outraged. Her arm snapped out and she snatched Leah’s bag from the ground and passed it to one of her friends. They passed it around, chucking it over to each other while Leah jumped and tried to grab it. She squinted at Myra who was now standing in the direction of the glaring sun.
“Give it back, Myra! Just give it back to me!”
There was a flash of light, and the bag was ripped form Myra’s hands. Leah reached out with her arms and caught it automatically, and all of their jaws dropped. They were silent for a few seconds, shocked and confused at what had happened. Myra’s perfect lips were parted slightly in confusion, the lip gloss making her lips shine and glitter unnaturally.
“You little freak,” spat Myra, recovering eventually, “How did you do that?”
She didn’t know. But it wasn’t the first time she had done something unexplainable like that. At the Orphanage, when the younger children had been teasing and picking on her, things started to happen. Like when Billy Johnston had been flicking bits of food at her during dinner. A particularly large piece of bacon had lodged itself up his nose. That was another reason they said nobody wanted her, because she was a freak of nature, a weirdo that nobody would love.
She hadn’t ever really felt truly loved. Sure, her parents had adopted her, but did they care deeply about her? When she had been upset a few years ago, they hadn’t tried to comfort her and try to cheer her up with embraces like she imagined parents were supposed to lavish. They had taken her out and bought her brand new, expensive toys. Anytime something was wrong, they used toys and other things to shut her up and make her happy. That wasn’t love.
But why hadn’t she thought of fighting with someone before? But then again, she wasn’t one to speak up in class or anything, let alone ball her hands into fists and start punching. But after everything she had been through, being dumped in an Orphanage, days after being born, being treated the way she was at the Orphanage by the other children, being treated the way she was at home, maybe she should start standing up for herself now. Fight, make a scene, something. That might get their attention.
When she didn’t answer, Myra took it upon herself to remind Leah she had asked a question. Her shove sent Leah stumbling backwards.
There was another flash of light, and it was like the ground moved beneath the four popular girls. They landed flat on their backs, Myra shrieking as she landed. Leah knew that this moment was the perfect time to pack her bag and bolt.
She didn’t stop until she reached the girls’ toilets which was a small, brick building, and locked herself in a cubicle, sitting down on the toilet seat, head in hands. The toilets scent was of expensive brand of perfume; peach flavored. It was the very same perfume most of the girls used constantly, not really caring about the poor people that may be allergic to it.
Maybe Myra is right, she thought to herself in confusion. Maybe I am a freak
When she arrived home, she found her parents waiting for her in the family room. Leah often thought about the name of that room. ‘Family room’. They were hardly a family at all. The fireplace was unlit; it was rarely ever lit. Bookshelves were lined up against a wall, filled with books that Leah would read, curled up on the lounge for hours. There wasn’t any family photo’s on the fireplace’s mantle piece, not trace of the fact that a child had ever grown up in the house.
Every single object in the room had been bought from an exceptionally large amount of money and was worth more than she could imagine and therefore, was untouchable to even her. It was for looking with your eyes, not with your hands. Especially if said hands were filthy or carried the slightest trace of dust or dirt.
She took a seat on one of the large, comfy chairs and her parents stood in front of her, their arms crossed angrily.
“Leah, we got a call from the school today to say that you had a fight with someone,” said her mother, her lips thin and white, “Is this true?”
They actually cared that she had got into a fight? She was surprised. Did they actually, in fact, love her and want to understand why she did what she did?
“The Principal said you pushed a Miss Myra Campbell. How dare you! We don’t pay money for you to go around and hurt innocent people.” Matthew said loudly.
All previous thoughts disappeared. They didn’t care about her. They only cared about money. And the fact that she was wasting money they could use to buy other things they didn’t really need.
“She pushed me first!” Leah’s voice rang out, but her parents ignored this, and her father continued his rant. “Maybe we shouldn’t have sent you to that fine school; obviously you can’t be around with such people, with your grades and attitude.”
“Fine, then, I never wanted to go there in the first place,” she said, standing now and taking her parents by surprise. “You never consider what I want, you just do something and expect me to shut my mouth and accept it. Legally, I’m your daughter but you sure don’t treat me like it! You buy things to make me happy but you don’t care! Well, I can’t take it anymore!”
Her throat immediately became sore from yelling. As Leah’s father raised his hand in protest, the lamp on the table beside the chair shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, glass showering the floor. She didn’t notice, but continued screaming.
“You are selfish people who only think of yourselves! You never think about what I want. I don’t want a life where I have no friends because of the way you act. They think I’m just like you at school! The people that are poorer than us think I’m a stuck-up snob who thinks she’s too good for them. WELL, I’M NOT!”
The windows cracked and the lights flickered on and off. Her parents stepped back from her and she stopped, her mouth open wide, her face wild.
“W-what are you doing?” her mother stammered, holding her father’s arm. “Stop it right now!’
She sounded frightened. Leah looked at the cracked windows and the shattered lamp and tears sprung to her eyes.
“How is this happening?” she whispered quietly to herself, her head in her hands. “What’s wrong with me?”