here you were, the new kid at chilton. a rich daddy’s money school where only the wealthy and self-centered students went. great.

you really appreciated your mom for giving you the opportunity to go to a nice private school. maybe it was the change you needed. but — no! you liked stars hollow high. it had.. acceptable kids.. but at least you had your best friend there.

now, you were walking in the eerily quiet but whispered hallways. you couldn’t make out most of the words, but you did hear the word “new kid” in most of the sentences. at least that’s what you thought.

as you walked into your first classroom, you sat down at your seat that specifically had your name on it.

you settled in and sat down, taking out your notes and sighing quietly as the teacher began talking. about 30 minutes into class, a boy walks in. he looks just like any other rich kid in here, there were to many for your barely morning adjusted eyes.

“my apologies mr. medina, it won’t happen again.” he says as he hands the teacher his tardy paper. he walks to the back of the class and stoops down next to his friends. you knew he was staring at you, you could feel it. but thank God the bell rang, you didn’t know how much more blabbing you could listen to.

you walked out the class and to your locker to place a few books and stuff in there. just as you were closing it, you gasped as the boy from earlier, tristan, was standing right there.

“hey pretty, i didn’t mean to startle you. i’ve never seen you ‘round here, what’s your name?” he asks, his somewhat flirtatious eyes gazing into yours.