after a prank gone terribly wrong, hayden jones is sent across country to caldwell academy, a school for the bitchy, the dangerous and the rebellious.
and if that wasn't bad enough, it becomes much worse when hayden is accidentally put in the male d...
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"WHATEVER IT IS, I didn't do it!" I exclaim as I burst through the doors of my art class. It was quiet and empty except for Miss Rowan who sat at her large brown desk in the corner of the room. She remains quiet as she takes a slow and languid sip of her white coffee mug that was covered in multi-coloured paint streaks.
"Well, hello to you too, Hayden." She remarks calmly and gently places her mug down. She folds her arms, raising a curious eyebrow as the afternoon sun floods in through the window panes behind her, giving her chestnut hair a golden halo, "Why do you think you've done something bad?"
"Isn't it obvious? I always do dumb shit." I scoff, holding my hands out in question. I then shrug it off, "Plus you've never wanted to talk to me alone before. I got a note from the office aid and everything. Not gonna lie here, I'm slightly terrified."
She laughs lightly, tilting her head back as she smiles widely, "You truly are an enigma, Miss Jones."
Miss Rowan always called me that; an enigma. To be honest, I didn't know what the word meant when she first used it but after a quick question to Doctor Google, I was aware. She called me it on the first day after I told her I used to believe I could read minds when I was little but turns out it was just my own voice in my head.
"So should I start writing my will now or...." I question as I pull a wooden stool from a nearby easel and place it at the end of her desk. I slowly sit down as she smiles at me, extremely amused at my fear and I pull my bag onto my lap.
"I'm not that scary of a teacher am I?" Miss Rowan ask as I stare at her blankly. She shakes her head, "You know what? Don't answer that. The reason I called you here to talk is because of this."
She holds up a clean, white envelope and a wide smile spreads over her face.
"An envelope?" I question monotonously as her smile drops. I take the envelope from her hand and shrug, "Why didn't you talk to me in class this morning?"
"There were too many people and I wanted to be here when you opened it." She beams, resting her chin on her two fist as she waits. She urges me on, "Open it."
"I better not get a damn paper cut...." I mumble under my breath as I rip open the card of the envelope. Inside sat a slender, rectangular piece of paper. I pull it out, glancing at the printed ink and my eyes expand to the size of the moon. I splutter, "What the fuck?"
"Ah, I'm so happy for you Hayden! How much did you get?" She questions, leaning forward trying to take a peak at the cheque that I had gently like it was made of fragile glass.
I turn it around, "Twelve fucking hundred? Are you serious?"
There it was. Written in bold and seriously nice handwriting, but that's beside the point. I held $1200 in my very hands, the most money I have ever held in my entire life. Is this what the Kardashians feel like?
