417"Hey guys this is Isabelle and she's nice so be nice," Tessa said smiling at me.
"Hi," I said dumbly. I couldn't think of anything else to say. A voluptuous red head and a dark Indian looking girl with brown eyes sat eyeing me. There was a brown haired guy with a letter jacket, and there was him, the man of my dreams. He had short black hair that fell slightly into a medley of green, that were his eyes. He was well built and absolutely way too gorgeous for words. I thought I might have seen him before at a football game or something.
"Hi," said the redhead huskily.
"Hello," I exclaimed trying so hard not to stutter.
"It's nice to meet you Isabelle," the brown-haired guy said.
I smiled thanking him.
The Indian with brown eyes smiled. "What's your last name Isabelle?"
"Sissy Langet," I said with my French accent.
"Well my name is Lucy Majki, and my redhead friend here is Katy Lansing," the Indian girl said.
"Nice to meet you," I whispered.
"I'm Henry Lansing, Katy's cousin," said the guy with brown hair and black eyes.
"Gregory Smith," the cute guy's deep voice said.
"Nice to meet you too," I said with a giggle.
"Where did you move to Westbrook from?" Katy said with her bright red lips.
"France," I replied almost honestly. I moved to the United States when I was four.
"Really," Gregory said with suspicion. "You speak English very well."
"Oui, c'est vrai mon cheri," I replied in my confident French voice. "I went to an American school in Paris." I hated lying.
"I went to boarding school in Paris for a few years," Gregory replied. "I'm glad to meet someone I can practice my French with."
"I'll be happy to practice it with you whenever you need to," I replied.
"You're so pretty Isabelle," Tessa said as if it were the end of the world. "Isn't she?"
They all nodded except for Gregory, who didn't seem to care. Katy strangely agreed although she seemed to be the driest of the group.
"I think it's your hands," Lucy said smiling. "They are so nicely manicured." I knew my mother would have smiled because she had done my nails.
"I think it's her hair," said Tessa. "How do you get it so straight?" I was about to say my mother worked in a salon, but I kept my mouth shut.
"It's her body," Henry said winking at me. He didn't remotely interest me, but I smiled to be polite, cringing inside.
All eyes fell on Gregory (I guessed he was their leader). "It's her eyes," he whispered smiling for the first time at me. I smiled back.
"Thank you very much," I replied. "Oh, you make me blush."
"You must be used to it by now," Greg replied. "You know you're gorgeous." I smiled shaking my head.
"Thank you," I whispered. I smiled at him and his dreamy eyes. My heart was racing out of my chest and I tried to come down to my normal speed.
"So you said Sissy Langet. Is Sissy your nickname?" Lucy asked kindly. She reminded me of my friend Stacey.
"Yeah, I got it from my dad," I replied. "He always said I was a frightful person, and he gave me that name."
"Don't you like Belle? Has anyone ever called you that?" I looked over to Greg who had his winning frown on.
"No, Sissy's just been the name." I said shrugging my shoulders.
"I like Belle," Greg said, but not sweetly. "It fit's you better." I blushed as the others agreed.
"What would you guys like to drink?" A cute little waitress suddenly appeared next to our table. She kept eyeing Greg and smiling flirtatiously. I wish I could do that.
"Are you new?" Greg voice suddenly changed into this really seductive tone.
The girl was chewing gum hideously as she nodded. "The old girl got pregnant," she said cracking her gum.
"You can't be talking about Wendy." Henry's voice suddenly popped up. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Some Western," she replied. Western was a term for someone who didn't live in the lap of luxury, just like the nickname Patrick.
"Poor Wendy," Katy's hateful voice said. She flicked back her hair. "He won't have a penny to help her. It's just like those Western's to do that."
I was about to say something about how many Patrick guys had gotten a lot of girls from Westbrook High pregnant.
"Can I get some coca?" My French accent came through. I was trying to change the subject and that stare that Greg was giving the waitress.
"Three root beers," Tessa said and then they all looked at Greg as if he was the center of all their actions. Maybe he changed what he ordered daily. I really didn't understand. The whole lunch it seemed as if everything were up to him. Everything seemed to be directed by him and ordered by him. Later, as Tessa and I drove back to the school I understood.
"Greg is richer than every other person in the entire school," Tessa declared speeding towards James Patrick. "Not only that, but he's drop- dead gorgeous. Every girl is in love with him. Except people like me. I am taken."
"You have a boyfriend?" I looked at Tessa. It made sense, considering that she was so pretty.
"Wow, I haven't told you," Tessa said. "He's practically all I talk about. We've gone out for five months."
"That's really sweet," I cooed dreamily. I was such a romantic.
"Lucy's betrothed already," Tessa exclaimed. "Can you believe it? It's her family. She's really conservative so refrain from all that advanced French talk about sex." I laughed because I was probably just as knowledgeable as Lucy.
"What is up with the Lansings?" The red head seemed really obnoxious.
"They are horrible people," Tessa said with disgust. "They're just really close with Greg. Well, let me rephrase that, Greg is very close with Katy. He's been with a lot of girls, but he always goes back to Katy."
I didn't really have anything to say about that. Katy was a thousand times prettier than I was. Any guy would be lucky to have her.
Greg was still in my mind when I walked into Philosophy. Tessa told me that no one would be in the class. She said that if there were eleven people it would be a record. I didn't understand why. Philosophy sounded interesting. The classroom was pretty tiny and had about ten desks inside. I sat down in on by the corner. A few chairs were filled with unsocial people that seemed to already know each other. They were geeks anyway, I told myself. Then Gregory came in through the door.
He was much cuter standing up. He was probably around six feet and three inches and had a wonderful build. He looked like a movie star that had just stepped into real life. I took in a sharp breath.
A girl suddenly stood up and went over to him starting to flirt. She sat next to me, and he sat next to her smiling. He had that seductive tone he had in the restaurant. She was a girl with nasty (dyed) blonde hair and gray eyes. How could he flirt with her? She was so ugly. She was chubby and had a crooked nose. Her teeth had a gap between them, but she must have had one of those easy reputations. I rolled my eyes at them and looked at the board.
A woman who looked to be in her eighties came into the room attempting to smile. "Please settle yourselves class," she said. "My name is Mrs. Casio and I have taught Philosophy for a little less than half of my life. Every year I begin my class by giving the definition of a philosopher. That is my goal for each and every one of you is to become a philosopher. This will be very simple because we do this naturally. You will be quizzed on this later, so feel free to take notes. Before I do this I want to know why you are all here. Why have you come to this class?"
She began with the group of geeks in the first row. They all gave predictable answers that were meant to be deep and sensitive, but really came off as trying too hard.
"I'm here to discover a new world of learning that is more than often ignored, but the bases for all other subjects in our educational lives," said a boy with big glasses while his friends looked very impressed.
Mrs. Casio did not reply, but looked at me suddenly and I felt as if I were frozen.
"What's your name?"
"Isabelle Langet, but they call me Belle for short." I looked over at Greg who had given me my new nickname. He seemed unfazed. I hated being put in positions where everyone was looking at me.
"Why are you here Belle?" Mrs. Casio made it seem like such a deep question.
"I care about how philosophies become truths in society," I said, and she smiled approvingly.
"And you, young man, give me your name and why you are here?" She was looking at Greg.
"Gregory Smith and I was on vacation this summer, and this was the only class open," he declared truthfully. Mrs. Casio smiled.
"Isn't this boy absolutely cute? He comes with honesty too. Well, honest boy, you see Isabelle over there in that corner. Do you feel intimidated by her looks? She's probably the only one who's ever been prettier than you are and she's a smart girl too. How does that make you feel?"
"I'm never intimidated," Greg said easily eyeing me strangely for a second.
"Oh really, then why don't you look over at Isabelle and tell me exactly what you're thinking."
Gregory Smith looked at me. "I think that she's pretty, but she's a spoiled brat. You can tell by her nose in the air. Not intimidating at all." He then looked away and didn't look back. I gulped. I felt like I wanted to cry. Is that what he really thought about me.
"So that is your philosophy of Miss Isabella Langet? That is your belief."
"Isabelle," I corrected. Mrs. Casio frowned and I felt out of place.
"She seems stuck-up to me," Greg said sighing.
"And you Miss Langet...what do you think?" Mrs. Casio whispered.
"I shouldn't even justify that with a response," I said. What else could you say to that?
"Philosophies are not only what you think, but why you think these things," she said easily. "Before this class I randomly chose these two names of Greg Smith and Isabelle Langet. Greg gave me a good example by telling me that he believed Miss Langet was stuck-up. His reason was because her nose was in the air. Now when I came into the room I saw her head down staring at her desk, looking very humble. Every point of view changes a philosophy. They can never be proved absolutely true."