Chapter Text
Battling the forceful tears which longed to race down her pale cheek, Zoe discretely split from her class, quivering as he feeble legs were helplessly dragging along the chilling school floor. They wouldn’t notice her. In comparison to her classmates, Zoe was a nobody. While it may be true that her mother, Audrey Bourgeois, was a world-famous fashion designer, Zoe was not. Lacking her mother’s aquiline jaw-line and slender frame, she wasn’t deemed worthy of companionship by her peers. By itself, this wouldn’t be so bad. While friendship was gratifying, the absence of her mother in her upbringing taught her the charm of isolation. Yet, there is one major difference between Zoe and other girls her age. She did not like boys.
Could not like boys.
It’s not as if she wanted this, and tried to force herself to do so. Yet is never worked. Ashamed, Zoe vowed to never let anyone know about this defect. When she first realised this, her immediate response was to mimic others. Copy their reactions to others who were like her. While this wasn’t the brightest response, it made her appear normal. Sure, those kids she ridiculed, teased, and shamed hated her, others began to notice her. Some even started to like her.
Ray, a lanky boy with long, blonde curls was the first to talk to her, boldly striding over to her after her ‘American History’ lesson ended. His cobalt eyes antagonistically glared a perplexing grin as they methodically scanned her, analysing all of her imperfections. Satisfied, the boy opened his chapped lips and in an up-tight, posh accent declared, “Zoe Lee is it? I’ve seen you around school, tell me, why have I never heard of you before?”.
Daunted, Zoe only managed a hasty blink. If she were to mess this up, the chance of gaining popularity, of gaining friends, would fall to zero. What could she even say? Eventually, she formed a response, a perfect response, “I try to keep a low profile. In my old school, some lower-class freak found out who my mother was and broke into our home, stealing all her designer shoes! My mother would freak if that were to happen again so I must keep a low profile.”. This story was a blatant lie, in her old school, which she last attended 3 years ago, she only left since her mother deemed it ‘too ridiculous’ for such an influential figure to send her daughter to. It is also evident that many people do know of her status as a Bourgeois, yet most people tend to forget this.
Silence.
Hesitantly lifting his abnormally long hands, Ray invited Zoe to shake his hand. Yet she did not want to. Every aspect of her intuition begged her not to. To flee this school and retreat to the safety of her luxurious home.
But she shook it.
Vigorously grasping onto his icy hands, she cheerfully tilted up her chin to gaze at the boy, expectant of some charitable words to escape his lips. Instead, his grip tightened, concealing her hand in a stinging discomfort as she subtly tried to loosen his grip. Unhurriedly, a villainous grin swelled through his face, intensifying his bulbous, rosy cheeks which now prodded at his egregious eyes, “Time to become known then. If you would care to work with me, that is”.
Swiftly glancing at her imprisoned hand, she knew she had no choice, and Ray was eager to keep it that way. The phrasing of his question was odd, “Work with you?” Zoe questioned in rather harsh tone, “What does that mean?”
“Don’t you worry about that, right now I just want to know if you would so kindly offer to be my friend.”, he cheered whilst finally letting go of her hand, allowing the blood to circulate back, painting the mauve imprints with their original peach.
His sudden shift in tone was threatening. Confusing. Perhaps he was only looking for a friend? Yet something didn’t feel right about this. In fact, something felt incredibly wrong. Rae impatiently swayed as he awaited her response, loudly checking his watch and tapping it in a frantic manner.
“Yes.” She finally decided, “I will”.
“Excelent! Oh what a beautiful friendship this will be.”, He cried whilst pulling her into a tight, unwelcoming embrace. Perhaps Zoe had misread the boy, perhaps he was the first person to truly notice her. Gleefully, she reciprocated the embrace, elated at her first and only friend.
Finally, she would be able to have a normal school life. At least, she hoped so.