Sam is in for the time of her life when a contest to tour with MCR comes up. But when the boy who has always hated her, always tortured her, comes into the picture, she's thrown a twist she never e...
Btw the MCR boys aren’t in it just yet but don’t worry they come in soon :)
I walked down the hallway, barely making it to the library before the weight of my backpack became unbearable. I dropped it to the floor, and it landed with a crash. I cringed as I imagined what my lunch now looked like. Pulling out my iPod, I sat down and pulled out my Algebra 2 book. I hear giggling approaching. Recognizing it as Tory and Kara’s, I jammed my headphones in my ears and blasted music. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as they slowed down. Kara whispered something to Tory, and they walked off laughing loudly. It wasn’t unusual; this happened a lot. It had been like this for a while now, and I guess we were growing apart. I sat there alone, doing my homework, until I heard the ringing of the bell pierce through the chorus of “Mama.”
Once in the chemistry room, I pulled the headphones out of my ears and sadly turned off my iPod, Gerard Way’s voice disappearing. We had one minute until the second bell rang, signaling the start of class. Everyone pulled at their uniforms and tucked away their phones. Our uniforms for CADYG (my school, Creative Arts and Design for the Young and Gifted) were simple and not meant to “restrain the boundaries of creativity.” I straightened my red and black plaid skirt and buttoned my black blazer. These were the only things necessary for the uniform; we could where whatever shoes, shirts, makeup, jewelry, etc we wanted. Today I had chosen my favorite black Cobra Starship shirt, as I had many, and my gray plaid converse. Ms. Chatham walked in right on time.
We all stood for the morning announcements. Right as we said “…to the republic” he walked in. Late as usual, he simply threw the late slip on Ms. Chatham’s desk and sauntered over to his desk. On his way over, he passed me and was sure to nudge me. He seemed unaffected by the dirty look I gave him and simply smirked. And there it was again, that stupid stomach flip. Every time he smirked I got this feeling like I was going to throw up. I gave myself a mental slap and finished the pledge. He was always like this. Whenever he would pass me and my friends in the hallway he would make some comment about our clothes or hair or something, implying that we were preppy and nothing else. Obviously he was oblivious to what I actually wore or the fact that I basically didn’t talk to those friends anymore. God why did I care so much about what he thought? To Cole, I was nothing.
I was late, as usual. My day had begun as any other in my household:
“Cole! Your oatmeal is cold and you’re late! Get the hell out of your room and into the car before you’re riding that piece of wood you call a skateboard to school instead!” Mom screeched from the kitchen.
I ran downstairs shouting back, “I’d rather ride my skateboard than be stuck in the car with Annabelle and her crappy music.”
My ten year old sister Annabelle had just discovered Disney channel and was currently playing Jonas Brothers on a loop from her tiny pink boom box. Sad to say, but I now knew every word to “Burnin’ Up” and could probably play it on my guitar if I wanted. I grabbed my skateboard and headed out the door, ignoring the bowl of oatmeal that was probably fit to use as super glue. Jamming my ear buds into my ears, I cranked Escape the Fate’s “Issues” and started off to school. I figured it was appropriate for the situation. I was being so stereotypical at the moment I had to laugh. Punky kid in skinny jeans with black hair, riding a skateboard, listening to loud, angry music. Wow. I was like the poster boy for teen angst.
After getting to school nearly ten minutes late, I took my time getting to the chem room. I chose a lovely dramatic spot in the Pledge of Allegiance to burst through the door. Dropping my late slip on Ms. C’s desk, I headed to my seat at the back of the room. I could have taken a very direct route to my seat but instead chose to walk past her.
Ever since the day I had met her, she hung with the preppy girls. They would run in to school, telling each other about the top that she “just HAD to have” from Aeropostle or Hollister. If I’m being honest, I scared them. Always had and always would. They were opposed to my music, my clothes. It’s like punk was contagious. I brushed past her and felt her shiver a little. She gave me the evil eye, and I smirked it off. She showed the most resistance to me; she refused to squeal and run away every time I walked by. It was like a challenge to me, and I liked it. One day, I was gonna get into her head. Sam was gonna break.
So…what’d you think? Review so I can improve and edit. Thanks lots :)