Surprisingly, Marco had given me a job and scheduled my first shift for the following day at four. The first three shifts would be mainly training, but I was fairly certain things wouldn't be too hectic. My role was just to take orders and bring them out. Luckily, I wouldn't have to actually make the food.

Me and cooking did not go well. The last time my friends and I attempted to make pancakes, they ended up looking more like scrambled eggs.

Just before I was ready to call it an early night, my phone started vibrating wildly on my bedside table. The caller ID told me it was Amy. I was so glad, I nearly knocked the phone straight off the table as I slid across the bed to reach for it.

"Ames!" I exclaimed.

"You sound excited to hear me," she remarked, laughing. "How's the Pemberton life?"

"Not bad. Not bad."

"Found any cuties yet?"

"No," I laughed. "What about you?"

"Well, no new guys, so just the usual. That makes it an automatic 'no'."

"I'm working at a pizza joint though."

"Would never have pictured that. Do they sprinkle gold in their pizza too?"

"The suburb is super nice, but it's only the school that seems hell crazy. Some of these kids are really rich."

"Find yourself a rich husband. Find me one too so I can live life easy."

I laughed. I wondered how I was going to survive senior year without Amy.

"Any assignments or tests coming up?" I asked.

"Essay next week," she groaned. "When on Earth would I have to write an essay in my future career? What about you?"

"Building a physics motor. In pairs."

"Oooh! Who's your partner?"

"Holden. I forgot his last name, but apparently a big shot here."

"He cute?"

I groaned. "He's alright."

"That's your code for 'melt the sun' hot isn't it?"

"Whatever. Odds are he'll be a snob, and so will his friends, and life will be hellish until I finish this assignment."

"Ah, there's the ol' Daisy negativity."

We chatted until about 12 because apparently, it was inappropriate to be up so late on a school night. She assured me that she'd call again the next day, but only if I managed to send her sneaky photos of Holden. Yeah, right.

I really didn't have any problems sleeping in a new room. Every night, I was out like a light, and every morning was a continual struggle to get up on the first alarm. The next morning, it took me exactly four alarms and three snoozes before I got up.

When I got to the bus stop, it was just about to leave, but I frantically sprinted and waved my hand so that hopefully the bus driver would stop. He did. Small blessings.

Physics didn't come around until after lunch, but I had spent the entire day dreading it. In life there were seldom occasions where group assignments with partners were good occasions. If there was one type of partner I was too well accustomed to, it'd be the slacker; does absolutely jack all but ends up getting the marks that you worked your ass off for anyway. If anything, I doubted this rich boy would be any different.

I hadn't gotten lost on the way to 3C and got there early enough to catch up with Bonnie outside of class. "A few of us are heading out to eat after school, do you wanna come with?"

"Sounds good, but I have work," I replied.

"Sad. Maybe next time, right? Surely your weekends are free?"

"Depends if I get any shifts," I grinned.

As soon as we got inside and sat down, Mr Michaels told us to rearrange ourselves to sit with our pairs. He was giving us the class to plan our motor. It wasn't hard to find Holden; he was sitting in the same place as when Bonnie had shown me yesterday. He didn't seem to be moving so I picked up my books, prayed for mercy, and walked over to the table.

"Hi," I said, setting them down.

"You're new right?" He smiled. I nodded.

"I'm Daisy," I said, holding out my hand.

"Holden," he replied, shaking mine.

So far so good. Haven't been murdered or publically humiliated.

"Are you a physics whizz?" He asked.

"Not really," I replied, which was a semi-lie.

"You look like a physics whizz," he grinned.

"Should I be offended?"

"Not at all?"

"The Albert Einstein look is in right now."

I quickly glanced into the window and caught my reflection. There were little stray baby hairs sticking up everywhere from when I'd rushed out of the house that morning. I quickly patted them back into place, my face almost certainly a bright red.

He laughed a little. "Kidding. It looks fine."

I didn't do too well with the opposite gender. If they were my age, male and breathing, I had a problem. I prepared myself for the inevitable mush that my brain was about to turn into and the rubbish that would undoubtedly come spewing out of my mouth.

"Anyway, I've looked up some basic plans and designs for projects like this one, and I've got these so far," he said, opening up his laptop. There was a word document that was seven pages long with an assortment of images, screenshots and notes typed here and there. Wow. Rich and smart.

"Yeah, I was looking at the same one as that one there," I said, pointing to the structure with a tightly wound copper wire centre and magnets assembled on an exterior framework. "Do you think we should stick with that one?"

"Yeah. It looks like it'll be alright to make, and I think as long as it works to some degree, we should be fine. Most of our marks come from the report anyway."

Amongst the hustle bustle of assignment talk, I hadn't noticed someone come into the room until that someone came up to Holden and hit him in the back. "Holden!" He exclaimed.

Holden spun around, clearly unenthused by the assault. "Parker you son of a – "

He was cut off when the guy supposedly named Parker asked, "Who's this?"

I looked at him and he looked back at me. There was a twinkle of recognition and he paused momentarily. "You look really familiar," he remarked.

"Really Parker? I mean, I know you're wild, but not in another state wild."

"Not like that!" Parker snapped.

He did look familiar, but I knew no one else from Pemberton. Then it hit me. The credit card from yesterday.

"You're the guy from Marco's with the suited guys?" I said slowly.

"Right! Pizza girl."

"That's cute. On a nickname basis already?" Holden teased.

"Shut up Holden. You're one to talk. Anyway, better see Michaels to work out who he's partnered me with," Parker said.

"You just waltzed in here without saying a thing to Mr Michaels? A true rebel."

"What's he going to do? Expel me?" Parker scoffed.

"That's right, Mr Beneficiary, bullet proof, aren't you?" Holden rolled his eyes. Parker strolled to the front of the classroom and Holden went back to me.

"I question my friendship choices every day," he remarked. I smiled at his joke. We continued designing the motor and I pulled out a piece of paper to try and draw up the schematic.

"I think I have the copper wire, but no magnets," I said, trying to think about what all those unpacked boxes in my house contained.

"No problem. I can go get the magnets. We still have two weeks until this is due, so no hurry," he said. He was, as expected, extremely chilled out about this. I just wanted to finish it as soon as possible in case something went wrong in the building and we needed to redesign and start again, but I didn't bring it up.

"Yep." I tried to hurry it a long a little by suggesting that we meet up somewhere to put it together and test it.

"Sounds good," he agreed. "The school library closes at five, so we'd have about an hour and a half after school?"

"I have work until about seven. Do you want to maybe meet at my house?" I'd said it before I thought it through. Our house was an entire mess and the last thing my mum probably wanted was a wild discussion and for someone to see the shambles the house was in.

"How about mine?" He offered.

"Sounds good."

At least it sounded good until work finished at seven and I realised I had no way of getting to his house, and that there was no way I was going to make it home to grab the wire and get to his house in time. I took out the piece of paper that he'd scrawled his address on. 72 Garden Terrace. Poor planning. An hour and a half later, after walking for twenty minutes in the dark – continually checking over my shoulder – I arrived in front of two gigantic white gates that according to google was only twenty minutes away from my work. Excellent, a gated community.

I cursed myself for not getting a phone number or at least some means of contacting him, because I was officially an hour late for our scheduled time.

I pressed the bell and the doorman spoke to me through the intercom.

"Hello?" I responded. "I'm looking for 72 Garden Terrace. I'm looking for Holden."

"Please give me a moment," he responded. There was silence for a moment before the door opened.

There I was, without a coil of copper wire, walking into a community that looked like it belonged in heaven and not on earth. There was a large water fountain with English-styled lampposts on either side. Trees lined the two roads that branched off from the gate.

"72 Garden Terrace is just down the right," the doorman said. He came out of the little box thing that doorman sat in and showed me the way.

The houses had neatly trimmed lawns with colourful flowers. Some of them were colonial styled, others were modern mansions. I stopped in front of 72. It was a modern mansion.

I checked the letterbox and street twice before I mustered up the courage to walk up the driveway and ring the doorbell. A few seconds later after I saw the lights switch on from behind the door, the door opened.

"Hey," Holden said.

"Yeah, sorry. I got lost on the way, and I actually don't have the copper wire with me. I forgot that I wouldn't be able to get home before or after work before coming here, but I didn't have any way of telling you that," I said, almost without taking a breath.

"Woah, slow down," he laughed. "No worries. We can build it another day. But since you're here and clearly borderline dead, do you want to come in? I'm making dinner."

"No, I should probably just head home."

"Nah, come in. We should exchange numbers, so that way you don't have to trek to my house to tell me one thing," he laughed.

Reluctantly, I took off my shoes and stepped inside.

There was a ding. He hurried me into the kitchen and pulled out a tray from the oven.

"Chicken tenders," he said proudly, facing the tray towards me. So this was what bajillionaries ate for dinner. The house was eerily quiet, and I didn't hear a single voice or anyone else anywhere.

He put some out onto a plate and passed the plate to me. "Thanks," I replied.

We both picked them up with our fingers and ate. He asked for my phone number and called me so that I would have his as well. "How are you liking Pemberton?" He asked.

"It's really nice, and quite big actually."

"Best school around," he said proudly. "I think I'm obliged to say that because I'm on the school board." I smiled. "Elections are coming up, vote Holden Vermont," he added sarcastically. "Oh yeah, did you want any sauce?"

"No, I'm good."

"Weird," he remarked. "I need all the sauce." He took out a bottle of tomato and barbecue sauce and squirted them on his plate, mixing them together. And he thought I was weird?

"Your house is really nice," I said, looking around at the marble poles that stood by his spiral staircase that looped around the chandelier on the ceiling.

"Thanks," he said blankly, leaving me wondering whether it was appropriate to compliment someone's house like I had. "Anyway, you should get the Pemberton insider tips from me," he grinned. "Party on Saturday night on Stephanie's yacht. You have to go. She throws the best parties."

I had a think back about who I even knew at Pemberton. Oh, that was right. Nobody.

"I'll have to see if I have work," I replied, full well knowing that I would not be going.

"I'm telling you, it'd be a damn shame to miss it. Not everyone is invited you know," he grinned.

While we finished off our chicken tenders, we continued scheduling our next meet up to hopefully actually make the motor, and decided for the following Monday night. I glanced at the clock and quickly noted down the day and time of our next meeting before putting the piece of paper back in my bag.

"It's getting late, I should probably get going," I said.

He glanced at the clock. It'd been an hour. "Let me get my driver."

"No! It's fine! The buses still run."

"Are you serious? It's late and dark outside. Dangerous." Without taking 'no' for an answer, he punched in a number on the intercom and asked for the driver to wait in front of the house.

Holden Vermont was a truly charming individual.

I got into a black SUV and the driver smiled at me before asking for my address. I stared outside the window as we passed through the gates, returning to my little house.

It felt like something straight out of a dream.