After embarrassing myself by crying on a voicemail that would probably not be heard by anyone but the call centre, I drag my pitiful self to Adelaide Monday morning, my uniform feeling more like a prison cage than a mandatory attire. I walk into the hallway and immediately notice that the air is different.

Not the literal air, but something is definitely up at Adelaide and it\'s not the Founder\'s Statue in the garden. The morning bell is yet to be rung but Adelaide is buzzing with chit chat, which is completely normal because it\'s high school. But this chit chat is different and I don\'t have to look further to find out what the big hallway gossip is this time around.

\'\'There was a pregnancy test found in the dumpster by the Recycle Club,\'\' Mariah whispers to Lianna and Stella, albeit not so subtly, as she waltzs past me. Either she didn\'t see me or refuses to acknowledge my presence, but she stops right in front of the water dispenser, a few metres from where I\'m standing and carries on.

\'\'A pregnancy test?\'\' Stella exclaims exaggeratedly. Her slim legs and statuesque figure are the one thing that the boys at Adelaide go gaga for, and she knows just how to flaunt it. Her asymmetrical grey skirt, which is no doubt altered, is so short, I\'m pretty sure I could see her underwear if she bends down. It also helps that she\'s a natural blonde and wears a ton of makeup to school. Boys worship at her feet

All that beauty, but no brains. Shame.

Mariah rolls her eyes and flips her platinum blonde hair. \'\'Yes, Stella. A pregnancy test. Get with the program. If the pregnancy test was found in the dumpster, then that proves that Phaedra is pregnant.\'\' Mariah explains like she\'s talking to a five year old. A look of realization crosses Stella\'s face but Lianna interjects. \'\'What if it isn\'t Phaedra\'s?\'\'

\'\'Oh please. There can\'t be two people pregnant at Adelaide at the same time. This isn\'t Teen Mom.\'\'

\'\'But the pregnancy test proves nothing unless Phaedra confirms it.\'\'

I\'m starting to like Lianna. She actually has a brain and balls which is refreshing to see. She is the quiet one amongst them. I don\'t hear her talk a lot when Mariah is on a tirade or when she\'s belittling people, but she has always seemed like the perceptive type, the one who observes more and talks less. Unlike her \'friends\', her skirt is actually modest in length and the first two buttons of her shirt are not popped open to give the horny teenage guys an eyeful of cleavage.

Adelaide has a \'strict\' dress code policy. Students are to be \'appropriately and modestly dressed in a way that befits Adelaide Montessori Prep\'s vision: Raising Future Leaders.\' In order words, no borderline short skirts, no cleavage bearing and no tie slacking. But, it\'s Principal Grande we\'re talking about. The kids in school are probably worth more than his entire retirement so he makes zero complaints about flouting the dress code. Parents make sizable and charitable donations to the school every year, no doubt Mariah\'s parents are one of such, so he keeps his pretty old mouth shut.

I bet my bottom dollar, if I dressed like Mariah and Stella, he\'d actually revoke my scholarship.

\'\'Don\'t be silly, Lianna,\'\' Mariah responds with a tight lipped smile. \'\'If there\'s one girl who\'s dumb enough to get pregnant, it\'s her. I mean, hasn\'t she heard of birth control?\'\' Stella cackles but Lianna stays mute. \'\'And the rumours that Jason is the potential father? What are you going to do Mariah?\'\'

Mariah sends a sharp look Lianna\'s way and sizes her up and down with her fake lashes. Lianna cowers in fear. \'\'I-I-I m-mean that\'s what I heard.\'\'

\'\'Well you heard wrong and quit irritating me with your stupid assumptions. Phaedra is ugly and so not his type.\'\' Phaedra is beautiful, but go off, Mariah. \'\'He would never touch her with a two-inch pole.\'\'

Stella nods. \'\'That\'s so true.\'\'

\'\'Besides, the only person Jason is fucking is me, and he knows that.\'\'

Her admission makes my heart sink. I shouldn\'t even be surprised that Jason is still sleeping with Mariah, but it\'s not necessarily all that pleasant to hear.

Why should you care about who he shags, Melody? He\'s not your problem and therefore not your business. Sure, he may have saved me, but it doesn\'t automatically make me attracted to him. That\'s ridiculous, and so cliché.

Time to mind the business that pays me.

......….

\'\'Are you okay?\'\'

\'\'Yea, why?\'\'

\'\'Because you always say you\'re okay, but you\'re not.\'\' Paris points out. School is over, thankfully, but I have a certain extracurricular activity to attend to. Apparently, in order to be a well-rounded student and look good on college applications, you have to be involved in some kind of school club. Not everything is about academics.

I give her a smile that doesn\'t reach my eyes as we exit Mr Reiss\' class. \'\'I\'m fine. I mean it this time.\'\' She narrows her eyes and then gives me a sad smile. \'\'I hope you\'re not thinking about…you know.\'\' By \'you know\', she means Khalil\'s assault. On Saturday, when she came over, I broke down in tears and recounted the whole situation, editing no part out. She hugged me and threatened to cut Khalil\'s dick off with a knife. We laughed and watched some movies on Netflix and had a long overdue girls day.

\'\'I\'m over that situation at this point.\'\' Has it been at the back of my mind? Definitely, but it\'s not the current thought ruling my mind. Khalil isn\'t spelt with five letters.

\'\'Are you sure?\'\' she persists. \'\'Because if you are we could totally go Peppermint like Jen Garner and kick his ass.\'\'

\'\'You mean kill his ass?"" I joke.

\'\'That would be cherry on the metaphorical cake.\'\'

\'\'I\'m good,\'\' I reassure her as we get to my locker. \'\'Besides, I have other things to worry about like Music Club in the next thirty minutes.\'\' I joined Music Club last year since it was a prerequisite to join a club. I like music, I especially love to sing, so it\'s a win-win situation for me. Currently, I\'m learning how to play the guitar under the tutelage of Mr Owen, the music instructor and coordinator of the club.

\'\'Oh, yea. How\'s that going for you?"\' she asks. \'\'It\'s good. I\'m learning how to play the guitar now. The only thing left is to actually buy a guitar.\'\' Buying a guitar has been on my priority list for a while, but then, there are other priorities than that actual priority, so I haven\'t been able to afford it yet.

\'\'You could take one from our house,\'\' Paris offers. I shake my head to decline, but she wines. \'\'Come on, dad has like ten of those and he doesn\'t even play anymore. My parents love you, so they wouldn\'t mind.\'\'

"I\'ll have to decline.\'\' Tempting as the offer may be, I don\'t want to come off as a freeloader. I may not be near as wealthy as Paris, but I want to buy my shit by myself. It\'s not a pride issue.

\'\'I know,\'\' she sighs dramatically. \'\'Miss Independent bitch.\'\'

\'\'You know it.\'\'

The hallway is cleared out now. Paris and I, along with a few students, are the only ones loitering. Can\'t say I blame them. It\'s 4:00pm and school is a joy sucker. Once that final bell rings, it\'s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders.

I can\'t wait to graduate.

\'\'So I thought about our conversation on Saturday and something doesn\'t add up,\'\' Paris starts. \'\'How did Jason even know you were there in the first place? Is he stalking you? Because he sure as hell doesn\'t live on Sylvia Street.\'\'

That question has been on the tip of my tongue for a while now, but everytime I think about it, it leads me back to my initial thoughts four months ago when I pepper sprayed him in the alleyway and then he showed up at my door all battered and bruised.

Who are you Jason Blunt?

\'\'I don\'t know, to be very honest. All I know is, something\'s up with him.\'\' Maybe he so happened to be there coincidentally? Or maybe he had some leader-of-a-gang-shit-to-do?

\'\'Maybe he\'s a spy,\'\' Paris suggests. I snort and stuff my bag in my locker. \'\'Does he look like the type?\'\' I haven\'t told Paris I discovered Jason is in a gang because…well because I want to protect her. Ryan swore me to secrecy and said that \'bad things would happen\' if I open my mouth. Now, I\'m not a fan of threats, nor do I pay attention to them, but something in my gut is telling me to keep my mouth shut.

\'\'Jason is a lot of things, Mel. I wouldn\'t be surprised if he adds spy to his already long resume.\'\' I check the time on my watch. Ten minutes more. \'\'I highly doubt he\'s a spy.\'\'

\'\'Maybe he\'s involved in illegal activity.\'\' I whip my hair so fast, I almost get whiplash. She raises a brow and I clear my throat. Keep it cool, Mel. You know nothing and you\'ve seen nothing. \'\'Doubt it. He\'s a rich, pretty boy. I doubt he needs to do all that.\'\' I say in an attempt to stop her prying nose. Hopefully, she disregards our previous conversation of being Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes and keeps her nose out of Jason\'s business.

I\'m trying, emphasis on the word trying, to do the same.

\'\'Oh honey. You have no idea about how our world works.\'\' She leans in closer to me like she\'s about to tell me the code to breaking into Fort Knox. \'\'Scandals, illegal activity and trysts riddle our lives, Mel. Most of the kids you see here, well their parents don\'t have clean hands. I\'ve heard a lot of rumours of them making money off of arms dealing, drug dealing or money laundering. I won\'t put illegal activity past anyone because nothing is ever black and white in the lives of the rich and famous.\'\'