REWRITING Burn You Alive

Chapter 3

 He’s currently dressed in a black pinstripe shirt, Angel of Doré necklace and pendant, leather bracelet with a pewter pentagram ornament, black leather suede, red tartan men’s pants with a hint of Goth, complete with zipper detail and d-rings, bound hip pockets, patch black pockets, zipper fly with button and a belt loop. With his auburn shaggy hair expertly combed, Devon looks like a gothic model out of a magazine.

I forgot to mention, I’m a fashion freak. I analyze the things people wear and mostly notice it if they have good taste. Sometimes, I’m a bit harsh on people who don’t dress properly.

Yep, Devon looks cool (but I’m still cooler), alright. Considering his mom is a modern Asian fashion designer who works in Paris’s best fashion company, I’m not surprised. He would have been more popular than he already is if he fixed his anti-social personality.

“Hey, Devon. What are you doing on this floor? Did you get lost again?” I asked with a fake smile and sweet voice. We’ve been together in the special list for years, yet we still weren’t friends. I need to be friendly to these kinds of people. Maybe someday, they may be of use to me. Friends with benefits, as they say.

Devon lifted his head and stared at me with his cloudy gray Asian eyes.

“Who are you?” He innocently asked with his thin brown brow raised.

I froze in shock. Addams laughed at my face. Devon looked confused.

“I…you-you don’t know me?”

“Uh, should I?” Devon said fidgeting a bit uneasily.

Addams laughed harder.

“I think I like you.” Addams said. “Yo, I’m Alexander Addams, by the way. First place. From what I heard, you must be Devon, right? Nice to meet you.” Addams said extending his hand for Devon to shake.

Devon smiled back brightly and shook Addams hand.

“Devon Sterling. Third place. Nice to meet you, too.” Devon shyly said.

DING

We were at the seventh floor and I was still recovering from shock. We all walked in awkward silence until we reached a glass sliding door at the end of the hall with a CXIII, or one hundred thirteen in Roman Numerals, in gold letters.

The room smelled like strawberries, lavender and sweets. The special room. Oh, how I loved it here. Then, I remembered that I won’t be the one sitting on the dining table’s throne and I began feeling down.

The special room was huge. When you enter, you first see the living room with all the beanbags on the floor, sofas and two chaise chairs on both sides and a one hundred-inch flat screen television set complete with wall-to-wall speakers. This was only the living room

On the right corner the coffee machine and candy stall stayed. On the lower right corner, there was a white soundproof door for the game room and just opposite the entrance door was our mini dining table where we talk, eat lunch or play games. Deeper in the room is a small hall leading to the restrooms.

And on the left corner of the room was a tinted sliding door, another room, meant for the first place student. There, it has a personal Jacuzzi, restroom and ice cream machine, which temporarily aren’t mine now.

The thought made me even gloomier.

“Ooh, wittle Jazzy looks all depwessed.” Kelly Mae O’Donnell cooed from behind me as Devon and Addams roamed around the room looking at the place.

The pretty brunette Kelly over here is my ex and our eighth place with big jugs. Very big jugs.

Both of Kelly’s parents are surgeons and she may look like a bimbo, and sometimes act like one, but she has brains. She’s the bubbly type. Pretty annoying if you ask me. It’s a plus that she’s part of the cheerleading squad.