Brooke Cleary at Jackson Donohue

“Ugh! I have no time for this!” Brooke Cleary shouted. She had an SAT exam to prepare for. She was taking it just this weekend. If she didn’t get every answer correct, she’d probably kill herself. She was looking to get into Harvard, Yale, Princeton and Dartmouth. She was still unsure which school she would actually attend though, but she wanted the acceptance letters, all four of them. They meant a lot more to her than they should have.

Brooke was in the library studying, when a swarm of Freshmen starting asking her to the Winter Ball. And so she shouted at them... In a library. The librarian was so impressed by all of Brooke’s hard work that she barely even glanced up.

Brooke had always been one of the prettier girls in her class, which explains why she shouldn’t be seen a week before the next dance as long as she still planned on not going. If it wasn’t for the senior she saw laughing through the corner of her eye, that looked about to pounce, maybe she wouldn’t have yelled. But Brooke Cleary has been known to throw quite a temper.

So after her delightful statement, she stormed out of the library using the exit farther away just to keep away from said senior. His name was Matthew Valentini. He’d been trying to track her down from the beginning of the month. Sure, the dance was just one night. But it was the night before her SAT test. She planned on studying until 12:30, sleeping in until 7:00 and then showering, dressing with just a tiny bit primping by 7:30 in order to get a half hour of study time on the way to her SAT test and then while she waited for the tests to be handed out.

Even so, Brooke never liked to dance. So she always chose to take her big, important tests just so she had an excuse. She chose to take her first SAT just after Homecoming that way she couldn’t go, even if she changed her mind. Her second SAT was taken when the Yearbook Committee threw a dance in order to get more pre-orders on their book; “Free admission with a filled out Yearbook form and the cash, check, or money order!” Still unpleased with her scores, and still in need of an excuse, Brooke chose to take her third, and hopefully her final SAT the day after the Winter Ball.

“You can do it,” she kept telling herself later that night when she was alone in her room. She motivated herself by staring at her sister’s Acceptance letters, there were three, Brooke wanted four so that she can say she got accepted to more colleges than Nessa. Nessa Cleary was Brooke’s un-identical twin. She was born seven minutes before Brooke was and she was “smart enough” to go up a grade and graduate early. Right now, Nessa is a freshmen in college, while Brooke is just a junior in high school — even though it’s the most prestigious school around, she attended Jackson Donohue Boarding School — and doesn’t plan on graduating until her senior year; she wanted the full effect of high school. Everyone compares them. “Nessa is oh-so smart! It looks like she stole all the brains before Brooke had a chance to get any for herself,” some one had said once. They were much younger at the time, just started Pre-School, but it still was thought to be the same. It wasn’t fair for people to say things like that, but Nessa didn’t seem to mind it one bit. She loved the spotlight and had it all to stay there; Beauty, looks, and talent.

Nessa’s good at writing so she decided to be an English teacher so that she can “pass along” her knowledge to less fortunate, meanwhile she’d be writing during her summer breaks trying to get published. It made Brooke want to vomit at the thought of how “nice and caring” people think her sister is. When truthfully, she just wants to be the better twin. Brooke took the better eyes though. Hers were emerald green while Nessa’s were a simple shade of brown.

After looking down at the acceptance letters, Brooke got distracted with her thoughts and barely noticed her alarm when it went off. It was dinner time. She never looked at the time when she studying, so she had to set a timer otherwise she would starve herself. Grudgingly, she turned off her alarm clock and slipped on her shoes to walk over to the cafeteria. The earlier she got there and finished, the sooner she could get back to studying. Although she did bring one of her notebooks with her.

It was 6:05 by the time she got there and a line was building. It wasn’t too big, but big enough for her to open her notebook and scan over her notes while she waited. After approximately 2 ½ pages read, Brooke was handing her meal card over to the Card Scanner Lady; no one knew her name, surprisingly. Then she walked to the line and grabbed that days entrée which was chicken fingers with fries, and took her seat towards the back of the cafeteria, closest to the try dispenser.

She start eating while absently mindedly leafing through her notebook, looking for the really important notes. Brooke barely paid any attention to those sitting around her, although when Matthew Valentini sat directly across from her, at her table, she did. But she kept it hidden, and didn’t look up completely, for almost the whole time he was there.

“Hey Brooke,” He said.

“Hello Matthew,” Brooke responded, gazing intently on her notes about plural pronouns.

“Go to the dance with me this Friday night,” Matthew said, not asked, but said. It was a demand, that Brooke didn’t like very much.

“No,” she said, without changing her voice, and still looking down.

“Why not? And if you say it’s because of that stupid SAT—”

“I have to study for the SAT — not the stupid SAT, just the SAT — that I’ll be taking the very next day. I am looking to improve my score, not damage it.”

“But think of what all this studying will do to you, what it’s already done. You’ll be too stressed Saturday morning to concentrate completely. But if you took the night before off, you could relax a little and let your stress go.”

“I don’t get stressed, thank you very much. I haven’t been stressed—”

“Since about two and a half hours, when you scared off the freshmen. Brady told me he wasn’t sure he wanted to look at another female ever again. You can’t do that, Brookes. Be gentle with them, at least. You were probably the first girl they ever tried to ask out before. Now they’ll fear it for the rest of their lives all thanks to you.”

“Did you just call me Brookes?!” Brooke asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I believe I just did. What’s it matter?” Matthew asked, confused.

“Don’t call me that again.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not my name, my name is Brooke. Unless you were to say ‘This blank is Brooke’s,’ then there is no S in my name!”

“It’s just a cooler way of saying your name Brookes! ...Well, seeing as how it looks like you’re close to attacking me, I think I’ll go now. To actually sit with people. Think about it though, I’ll be here again tomorrow night, waiting eagerly for your answer. Bye!”

“Sure, you will. Can’t wait,” Brooke said with sarcasm. She watched him walk away. Matthew caught her as he went to sit down and he blew her a kiss. Brooke rolled her eyes and turned back to her food. She was done in less than two minutes and was now disposing her tray before she finally left the cafeteria, ignoring Matthew’s stares, waves, and all his other piteous attempts at getting her attention.

“Thank God,” she mumbled to herself. As soon as she got in her room she was schedule for her hour-long nap from 6:30 to 7:30. After that it was time for more studying.

Looking for Chapters Two, Three, etc.? Go here: http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2557633/1/Brooke_Cleary_at_Jackson_Donohue to find my story at FictionPress.com I've gotten fed up Quizilla, like so many others. Sorry that I had to do this. You can e-mail at Fluffysld77@yaho.com or IM me at Fluffysld77 if you have any questions or concerns.