Part 1

                                    

                                          

Enjoy!
How are you considered talented in a school where everyone was talented? Marcella asked herself this question everyday. 
Estudios Filántropos. I mean the proof was in the pudding. She attended one of the most prestigious high schools in the country. A school made by the nation's philanthropists, for the nation's future philanthropists. An evil circle to begin with.
"Watch out!"
Marcella questioned her many talents, which predominantly involved musicial instruments, as they did not help her avoid the jungle that others referred to as: the school parking lot.
"Ouch." She groaned, as a football bounced off the top her head then slapped away the pile of sheet music in her hands.
"Forgive me." The boy said, as he rushed to help her collect the papers that were still falling from the sky.
"Thanks alot Gavi." Marcella groaned. "It's not like I worked all night on those."
"All night?" The boy frowned. He was her known classmate, mostly know for being annoying, but also known for being a very talented football player. "This doesn't even look finished." He said, tilting his head to the side.
"What do you know?" She hissed and snatched back the papers that he had collected. He was right though. You didn't need talent to see that Marcella was carrying unfinished work. Work that would stay unfinished if the teachers at her school didn't stop asking for perfection from their students.
"Pablo! Haven't I tought you better ways to hit on a woman than actually hitting her?"
A shadow was casted over the ground which Marcella and Gavi were collecting the remains of her homework. She stood on all fours, tilting her head up only to be met with the most taunting smile.
"I wasn't hitting on her, you know that Pedri." Gavi chuckled getting up from the ground, ditching Marcella for his friend.
"No? What were you doing then, helping her hand out flyers?"
She snorted at his arrogance.
"Something like that." Gavi said. "I think it's those papers you play music from." 
"It's called sheet music, dumbo." Marcella muttered from below. Most of the sheets were gone with the wind anyway and would probably stay gone. Gavi's friend knelt down beside her. "Need a hand?"
"No." She mumbled, throwing one appalling glance at his outstretched hand.
"Come on Marcella, everyone needs a hand."
She paused. "How do you know my name?" The boy was a senior, know as Pedri Gonzalez, the captain of the football team. He was also known to have many wannabes', like Pablo Gavira, idolizing every breath he took, wanting to be just like him.
"Marcella, no?" Her name rolled of his tounge with ease. Unlike when Gavi said her name with that juvenile squeal that haunted his pubescent voice. Pedri's voice was steady, like a man's. "You're the singer, no?"
How did he know?
"You sang the national athem during the school cup final last year, didn't you?"
"Um, yeah. That was me." It wasn't the performance of her life. However, Marcella was honored that her music teacher had picked her to sing the national athem and not her classmates.
"Yeah, I remember." Gavi snorted. "Your voice cracked in the end, didn't it Marcy?"
"Don't call me that!" She shot up from the ground with unknown help from Pedri who let go of her hand as she marched up to Gavi. Marcella had known him since kindergarten, he was also her neighbor, a pain in the ass at that too.
"Little Marcy, always so clumsy." Gavi said, teasing her in that way that he knew many kids did in middle school. Back then Marcella was known for being clumsy because of the many instruments that she had to carry to and from school. A time  before she got accepted to Estudios Filántropos, that would eventually house all of the instruments that she needed.
"Marcy, Marcy, clumsy little Marcy."
"Gavi, if you don't shut your mouth right now......"
"Oooh, a threat." He taunted, to his friends amusement. Pedri seemed to enjoy the torment that he put Marcella through. That is, until a large Range Rover pulled up to the carpool lane. The door opened and a red bottom heel stepped out of the vehicle.
"Pedri don't just stand there, help me down." A determined voice said, to which Pedri immediately responded by walking over to the car. Another high heel stepped down from the vehicle, revealing the body of a housewife in the making. Although Rosie was more than gifted in mathematics, her true talent had to do with how she got every guy on campus to cater to her every need, despite already having rich parents that did just that. "Ugh, it's such an awful day." She complained, and moved to put on the sun glasses that sat on top of her black haired head.
"What are you talking about? The sun is shining." Gavi said, squinting his eyes at the light. 
Rosie and Pedri approach, their hands intertwined. "Yes, but I hate the sun." She said.
"Who hates the sun?" Gavi chuckled.
"Someone who's dad owns a taning bed empire, duh."
Marcella chuckled at that, as she found it funny. A mistake, since it drew unwanted attention back to her.
"Marisol?"
"It's Marcella." Pedri coughed. They were boyfriend and girlfriend, following rumors that the two hooked up last summer. Every guy on the football team wanted to hook up with Rosie, it only made sense that she settle for the captain.
"Right, Marcella. You sang the national athem last year, at the cup final, no?" She looked to Pedri for reassurance. He nodded. "It was so good. You were so good." She smiled. A spiteful smile that Marcella imagined a snake would have if they turned human. "Not many people would have gone on singing after their voice cracked. You're honestly so brave for that."
"Ros." Pedri sighed. Gavi on the other hand slapped a hand against his mouth to hold his laughter. 
Marcella crumbled before them.
"What's so funny?" Rosie said, looking genuinely confused. "It was a really good recovery, we almost didn't notice that her voice cracked, didn't we baby?"
"I noticed." Gavi laughed.
Marcella rolled her eyes at him, ready for the sun to burn out and extinguished everything man has come to know as life.
"I'm sorry." Pedri said.
Marcella collected the last of her things, ready to continue towards the school building. "Whatever, I'm late for class." She, muttered and hustled away as not to be late. It was indeed another day at Estudios Filántropos. When would things ever change?