Siren (my NaNoWriMo novel previously called Original Story)

The breeze danced through my copper red locks. I stood on the side of the cliff, facing the ocean. I inhaled deep breaths of the sea air. A smile danced across my sun-soaked face. Peace had found me at last. I slipped off my sandals and out of my cover-up. I dropped them on the sandy ground. In an instant I was diving below the cool crest of the waves. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My lungs filled with water. I opened my mouth to scream but ringing came out. No, not ringing…..beeping?
I sat up screaming bloody murder. I looked around. Nope. I was not on a cliff side. Damn that seemed beautiful. I was just in my drab and dreary bed room. I rubbed my weary head and yawned. My cream comforter fell to the ground revealing my long slender legs. I flipped them over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching. I scratched my head and shuffled over to my closet. I shrugged off my flannel pajama bottoms and was left in only my undergarments and a white camisole. I pulled a blue, gray, and white plaid skirt off its hangar. I slid it on and fastened the button. I put a navy cardigan on over my camisole and did three buttons. I sat down on the ground and slipped on my knee-high argyle socks. I hate my school uniform. I pulled on my gray Ugg boots. The only good thing was I was able to wear my own shoes. Shoes are truly girl’s best friend. I did a pirouette over to my night table and flipped on my iHome. I scrolled through my playlist to the song “Happy” by Natasha Bedingfield. I started belting out lyrics as I finished getting ready.
“Someone just tell me that it’s okay now! What are you worried about? Got my dreams, got my life, got my love, and got my friends and the sunshine above. Why am I making this so hard on myse-“ I was cut off by the opening of my door. I turned and froze, my curling iron starting to singe my hair. In my doorway stood Alexander Cleary. His smoldering eyes danced with amusement as they flicked to my hair. I shrieked as I saw the smoke drifting from my red curls.
“Ummm, Scarlytt? Your hair is on fire, more so than usual.” Alex laughed. I scowled at him and swatted away steam.
“You are here because…” I dragged on as I motioned with my hand for him to continue. He smiled that crooked grin of his. I almost smiled in spite of myself then I remembered I was acting annoyed.
“Right, Sallie told me to make sure you were up. And obviously you are, unless you are trying to cook your hair in your sleep. Are you?” he asked playfully. I rolled my eyes and chucked a hairbrush off, my desk, where I was doing my hair, at him. He ducked and backed out of my room, hands up in surrender.
As soon as the door shut, I felt my face go as red as my hair and my name for that matter. Alex. Cue the girlish sigh. It is pathetic. Really, really pathetic but still. Sallie, my adoptive mother, was best friends with Alex’s parents so we had grown up together. He practically lived at my house. I had known him forever! We were from the same orphanage. Yeah, I was an orphan Annie. The curly red hair didn’t help much. We were both found on the doorstep in October. We were both 15 but that’s where the similarities end. I am an Irish rose type. Fair skin, flaming red hair, freckles and such. Alex, on the other hand is, tall dark and handsome all the way to Alpha Centuri. He has coal black hair that falls in his eyes in an adorable way. Tan with a Mediterranean complexion, and bright blue eyes. He has lashes I would die for, a strong jaw, and more manly features. He skipped the gangly adolescent phase all together and went straight to DAMN.
I fixed my hair and ran downstairs. The smell of fried dead big, or bacon as most call it, filled the air. I skipped into the kitchen and happily sat down. Mom sat a plate down in front of me loaded down with all of my favorites. Then I tensed up. Something was off. She never made eggs Benedict unless…. I swore quite loudly. Mom shot me a look and I meekly grinned. I knew what was going on. I was going to be a Barbie doll. I groaned and banged my head on the table repeatedly. Alex, who had snuck over for breakfast because his parents are horrible cooks, stared at me like I was insane. I am insane, but he already knows that. Every now and then, my mother’s charity holds themed balls to raise money for the rain forest. She ALWAYS makes me go. She also makes me look like a total stereotypical prom queen.
“Oh c’mon, you will have fun this year! The theme is masquerade!” She tempted me. I have an unnatural love of masks. Weird, right? I knew it was futile to plead against it. I slumped my shoulders.
“Fine. Now, gimme a fork, I wanna dig in!!” She laughed and gave me a fork. Alex tried to swipe a piece of bacon. I shot him a look that if looks could kill, would have stricken him dead then and there. He carefully set the bacon back on my plate. I gave an approving nod.
“You guys have to go!” My mom shouted. I gulped down some more orange juice and grabbed my bags straps. Alex was right behind me as I ran to the bus stop. He, being the total a*s he is, tried to knock my legs out from under me. I flipped him some sign language as I leaned against the sign for bus stop.
“Wow, little miss innocent is getting a little testy!’ He joked. I laughed at the absurdity.
“I was cussing at age 6 Mr. Goody-Goody!”
“Okay, point taken Red. You have a hot temper and swear like your ancestors the drunken Irish.” He cracked up. I did too. The bus pulled up and I wiped away tears of laughter and punched him in the arm as hard as I could. He said something that rhymed with moley truck. We climbed on the bus. The smell nearly knocked me out.
“It smells like a French whore in here!” I whispered behind me to Alex as we headed towards our usual seats. I spotted the source of Whore Du Jour. Regina Kells. Bubbly blonde, big (fake) boobs and a plastic nose. You catch my drift. The epitome of a blonde cheerleading bimbo. She also happened to be Alex’s girlfriend. He smacked me upside the head and I shot him a warning glance. I moved to my accustomed seat with the nerds and losers, while Alex sat with his grew the jocks. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention he is the most popular guy in school, while I am probably at the opposite end of the spectrum.