I opened my eyes and adjusted to the bright sunlight that streamed through the curtains. I let out a deep sigh and ruffled a hand through my dark brown hair. First day of school, I thought to myself, shuddering at the thought. As a kid, I loved changing schools. But as soon as I hit 12, I really disliked it. As a kid, I was free and easy, never really bothering what people thought about me. I did whatever I want, whenever I wanted. One day though, I was betrayed by who I thought was my best friend in the whole word. She and I were close throughout our childhood, ever since kindergarten. Then one day, she confronted me and told me that I was an embarrassment to her. That I was too loud, too boyish and I looked fat. I was hurt by her words, and it still haunts me sometimes. Ever since that day, I broke off all connections with her. I’ve also never been the same. It changed me a lot and I saw myself in a whole new different way. The fun, free and easy kind, laughing and smiling all the time had changed.

I never ate a lot anymore. For breakfast I would take a hot drink, then a granola bar for lunch and a small bowl of salad with no-dressing for dinner. It was hard at first, my new diet. But I was determined to lose weight, so I just didn’t think about food and isolated myself from the dining table when it was time to eat. At 13, my mother realized that I was losing a lot of weight, and she started to panic. She started recommending to therapists and anorexic centres. When I was 14, I’d become really skinny, weighing only 40kg when I was 5’3. I finally realised that I’d gone way too far. So I started listening to the people at the centres, and slowly started eating again. It was very hard, and at the beginning, I would throw up what I ate. After a year, I weighed 44kg, and I looked better. I didn’t look so sick and pale anymore. I still went to school, but I changed my appearance. I let my short hair grow long and I grew bangs. It was parted slightly to the left side so I could hide my face. Unfortunately, I had lesser hair than normal people who had really nice and thick hair. The only colors I ever wore were red, green, black, white or brown. I rarely wore striking colors because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, afraid that I would be embarrassed by other people again. I have since always worn jeans or capris. I rarely wore skirts, but if I did, they were never above my thigh. I wouldn’t wear any short or too much skin-showing clothes. It was usually a simple white t-shirt with jeans and a black sweater. People often mistake me for a Goth, but I actually am not one. I don’t wear a lot of make-up, except for mild lip gloss sometimes.

I forced myself out of the bed and combed my fingers through my messy hair. My hair isn’t straight, as a matter of a fact, it was wavy. It was naturally that way, and I thanked God that it wasn’t frizzy. It would make my appearance worse than it already was. The only thing I like about my appearance was a crescent-shaped scar on my left wrist. I had accidentally cut myself when I was younger and wilder, and the scar has never faded off. It didn’t bother me much. “SHAIA MELISSA CORVINGTON! Would you PLEASE come down here and EAT YOUR BREAKFAST? You are going to be LATE for the bus,” shouted a voice from downstairs. I let out an exasperated sigh and opened my mouth to answer my mother. “Yes Mom. Give me five minutes,” I yelled as I dashed into the bathroom to take a quick shower. I quickly brushed my teeth and wash my face. I walked out of the bathroom and towards my closet, wondering what will happen in school today. I put on a light brown t-shirt and a pair of dark long jeans. I took out my favorite black jacket and wore it over my clothes. I put my favourite pair of shoes that were white Converse shoes with some coloured words on it. I pulled the hood up and put a black cap on my head as I walked out of my room.

People often thought that I came from an average waged family. But actually, my family is quite wealthy. My great great grandfather was the son of the King of England. Apparently, the story was that he didn't want to become King after his father died, so he ran away to America. I always thought it was a pretty cool thing, but I had been called a great great granddaughter of a coward by someone before. Which was obviously my best friend. My mom told me that my best friend was acting this way because she was jealous of my related bloodline. I never liked to recall my past. It made me hurt a lot. I walked down the staircase, feeling a little awkward. The staircase itself was built in a way that it was like meant for royalty. It had always reminded me of the Beauty and The Beast scene where Belle walked from the room to meet the Beast.

I jumped off the staircase when I was five steps away from the ground and allowed myself a small smile. I turned left and walked into the kitchen. I could smell the burnt smell of pancakes and my nose wrinkled. I knew that my mom had cooked it since she really didn't have a clue how to cook. She always made an effort to cook breakfast for me whenever it was my first day.

I saw the cook and gave a small polite smile to her. "Good morning Erin." I said as I passed her and sat down on the chair opposite of my mother. "Morning Mom." I greeted her as I gave her half a smile. She wasn't really a mother figure. She was more of a sister figure actually. She always went on blind dates and ended up coming home really late in the night. She and my dad had divorced, but it wasn't ugly or anything. I was happy that she allowed my dad to stay in the house, because between the both of them, I had always liked my dad more.

"Um..Thanks for the uh...pancakes Mom." I said halfheartedly. It really didn't look appetizing at all. It was all black, and I could only see very small patches of brown on the surface. I pick up a fork on the table and poked at the pancake, then proceeded to put one piece into my mouth. I chewed quickly and swallowed it down. It was awfully bitter, I had no idea how i was going to finish it.

"Oh Melissa. Just dump it in the bin and save yourself the trouble of being sick." She said exasperatedly, looking at me with her piercing green eyes.
"It's not that bad. Really." I tried to say as honest as possible.
"Well then, would you like to finish it?" She asked, eyeing me carefully.
That threw me off. "Err........." I said, stalling for time as I desperately wondered whether I should be truthful or not. "Oh alright. No." I said after a pause, giving her a sheepish smile.

I knew she could tell from my face that I disliked it a lot. I got up from my chair and took the plate. I put dumped the pancakes into the dustbin and washed the plate. I placed it carefully on the rack to allow it to dry. Erin was used to me cleaning my own dishes, seeing as I did it everyday. I grabbed a piece of toast that Erin had prepared and bit into it. I chewed quickly and swallowed as my eyes glanced to the old cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. It showed 7.15am. I quickly shoved the remaining bread into my mouth and grabbed my sports bag, which was in the living room. I had packed twelve t-shirts, six pairs of jeans, four capris and three kinds of shoes. Since my sports bag was already too full, I took another one of my bags and managed to stuff all my shoes inside.

I slung my bag over my left shoulder and gripped my sports bag tightly in the same hand. I wasn’t excited at all to be going to the most posh boarding school in the country. Because of my mother’s job, I’ve been force to relocate all over in America. So far, we have moved three times. We moved from my hometown Utah, then to New York, and then finally to California. Among all the three places, I prefered California the best. We have a really big and nice house on the beach. It was windy and sunny, just the way I liked it. Everyday before the term started, I would always go to the beach and lie there almost all day, listening to the waves and sometimes to my Ipod. It was relaxing for me, but my mother told me it was a waste of time. She said that I should spend my time doing more beneficial things like reading gossip magazines and going shopping with my friends. Whenever she told me that, I would just nod my head and say ‘soon’.

“Well, bye Mom. I’ll see you during the weekend.” I said to her as I hurried out of the kitchen.
“Goodbye Melissa. And please, try to be more....sociable” she said to me, trying to put it as nicely as possible.

As I was on my way to the front door, I heard someone call my name and I stopped and whirled behind. The sides of my mouth turned up into a grin.