James Windsor:
"We're strangers, Stop pretending we are any more than that." I snapped as I yanked my arm away and paced. She tripped behind me, desperately chasing.
"Please," she begged. "I need you. Don't you get that?" She said now more agitated than avidly.
"Taking pictures of me while I was about to leave my house! How I don't think so! Let me go to English in peace!" She suddenly grew quiet and grabbed my blazer sleeve, staring into my eyes.
"Can I at least talk to you?" Her mouth dried. I gulped. That was a hard pill to swallow.
"I'm sorry, I need to go." And I went scattering to English, my leather backpack weighing me down.
I thrust the rusty wooden doorframe that never failed to chip after each push. "Seriously, after all the school tuition my family has to pay."
"James! You're late, again." Mrs. Flemmings called out. The bob cut insidious who has been tied to my laces since I arrived in English III, her grey cardigan and onyx heels stomped on anyone unable to take her class, and if I'm going to go to St. Andrews akin to Louise, my absences cannot fail.
"Mam, I have only been late twice," I say while my backpack swishes behind me and plumps behind the last chair in the room. Her brows furrowed at me as one of my best mates from fishing grabbed my sweater and began to snort.
"You can't hide anymore James!" He howled. The entire back row snickered, the majority of the area consisted of my mates from equestrian, fishing and a few rugby players who had already grown out of full-fledged puberty at fifteen. As my mind diverts, I notice a new Beryl blazer at the corner of my eye, her hair was knotted into Seipa brown braids clipped at her head with cardinal ribbons like a paperback book. Strands ruffled and escaped from her twists as they flew into her face. She blew the lock away and twirled behind her ear, keeping her eyes glued to the syllabus. "Strange, I didn't know you could transfer right at the end of midterm," I thought. "Her parents may have paid extra money." My eyes soon glanced to my left, pondering if I knew her. Her snowy, pale skin absorbed the light from the window, her eyes squinted at the rays of light. She reached her hands into the metal hangings and pushed them down, swinging the chalky iron frame open. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the pristine fresh air.
"Quiet!" The entire classroom rumbled with the voice of a thousand normal London nightclubs. "The whole back row! Not only did I let you gentlemen receive extra help on the test, but I have put up with your nonsense for too long. Next time I find you chaffing me, your parents will hear." Six months ago on this date, Louis Maxwell's father took up a small tutoring position for students who needed extra help as midterm exams were rapidly approaching. "Hey," Louis hushed during break time. "Do you want answers for the test?" My moral compass twisted and churned in half an hour more than it ever did in my entire life. Yes, it would be extremely arrogant of me, especially being a Windsor. The students will ridicule and disdain me more than anyone else caught, my father's voice wrung in my head. "I did so much for you to stay out of the private eye, however, you are still an unofficial prince. Act like one. We have the wealth and privilege of the entire nation, and are responsible for it too."
However, it was mid-March. And instead of studying physics and maths, I spent my free days fishing trout in my family's private lake. Armpits and shoulders deep in the murky waters. Louise was right, I should have been studying, but I can't take a bribe. "No, you Bellend! I can't do that kind of stuff!" I harshly snapped. In the next few weeks, the teachers made the midterm exams loom closer, I realized my mistake. I was woefully unprepared, and there was no way I could learn everything in time. Reluctantly, I approached Louis after school.
"Louis," I said hesitantly, "I know I refused your offer earlier, but... I need your help. I haven't studied, and I don't want to let my family down."Louis looked at me, smirking as if he'd known that I would come crawling back. He leaned closer and whispered, "I knew you'd see it my way. I'll give you the answers, I just wanted to help a friend." Feeling defeated and desperate, I agreed to his terms.
"Fine, it's a deal." I grabbed the sheet and scanned through the questions. It was mostly maths, English and Science. Adrenaline rushed through me as I stuffed it into my backpack, hoping my parents would never know. Although I sound like an absolute skive, I learned my lesson and studied like a voracious bookworm. The day after the test, Mr.Abbot, our maths teacher, grabbed me by the hood of my backpack. "Bring all of your friends to my office now." He hushed. I shuttered at the mere thought.
We all exchanged nervous glances, knowing they had been caught. But just as Mr. Oxford was about to dismiss them, a knock on the classroom door interrupted him. Louis's father, Mr. Maxwell, entered the room, his face flushed with concern.
"Excuse me, Mr. Oxford," he said, "but I believe there's been a misunderstanding."Mr. Oxford raised an eyebrow, surprised by the interruption.
"Oh? And what might that be?"
He lied about how he had given the students extra study materials, including practice questions that resembled those on the exam. Mr. Maxwell took responsibility for the confusion and asked Mr. Oxford to reconsider. With a sigh, Mr. Oxford let it go. After all, he was one of the main funders of the school. Now all the teachers are on our heads, and I hope that does not happen again. I was so lucky my dad did not find out. As the students left the classroom, Louis approached me with a smirk. "See? I told you my father could help us out."
And now we are sitting in the middle of the class with a cross teacher with Stearn eyes steaming at us. "I want you to finish all the work in your binders, nothing left behind." She shot daggers at Winston, the leader of the equestrian club. "At all." I opened my navy blue and dark red binder and peered through English III. Although I had one more worksheet to do, I whispered over to Spencer-who knew just about anything about any new student, I leaned towards his desk and asked;
"Hey, do you know who's that girl in the ribbons?"
"What?"
YOU ARE READING
What Goes On In My Mind, Fanfiction. James Viscount Serven, Earl of Wessex.
FanfictionI have written fanfiction that delves into his imagined experiences at school and home to all the royal fans out there, who are curious or delusional about James' personal life. The story begins in 2022, after the passing of his beloved grandmother...
