Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Story Of A Girl
"Fuck!"
The sudden ring of my alarm clock scared the shit out of me and I nearly tumbled out of my bed. I groaned loudly. Six thirty was too early for any person to be awake, but this person needed to get ready for her first day at a new school. Great. Introduce yourself. Make friends. Try to fit in. Find your way around campus. Don't get eaten by a cheerleader or trampled by a jock. Today was just something I was greatly looking forward to. /Or not/.
I could smell breakfast already and it smelled good. It’s been a while since I had a proper home cooked meal. The orphanage’s food was the worst and last night I didn’t want to sit around a dinner table exchanging life stories with my new caretaker so I skipped dinner and went to bed early. My best friend tried to persuade me to make an effort, but he knew as well as I did that that was not going to happen. He also knew why not, that’s why I couldn’t comprehend why he was still trying.
My thoughts were way too heavy for so early in the morning and I slowly fell out of bed with a deep sigh. My feet slowly shuffled over to my backpack allowing me to pull out a pair of black knee-length pants and a red t-shirt. Seemed good enough for the first day. I snuck into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. A shower would be heavenly right now and probably the only thing that would wake me up. There was always coffee, but I’ll get to that immediately after washing off my travelling from the day before. After I got out of the shower, I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and applied some eyeliner and I was all set to go.
“Good morning! Did you sleep well?” Those were the words she greeted me with. It was a bit too cheery for me – I was obviously not much of a morning person.
I gave her a nod in acknowledgement. It was probably driving her crazy, but I couldn’t possibly care less. She would be calling my social worker soon.
“Okay. Well, I made you some toast and there is porridge on the stove. You can make yourself some coffee otherwise there is juice or milk in the fridge.”
Silence.
I find it hilarious: her non-stop talking and my total disregard. I’m really mean. She’s just trying to be nice and make me feel at home. At this rate I’ll be back at the orphanage in no time. This time it will be a good thing, because I really don’t want to be here. It’s miles from Chicago, in other words, too far. My best friend is there. Chicago is huge. Couldn’t they get me another home there? Oh yeah, I’ve already been through them all, I think bitterly.
My thoughts are interrupted when she says, “Here is some money. You can go buy yourself some new bedding after school. If there’s anything left you can buy yourself some other things as well. Oh, and there’s a bag in your closet with anything you might need for school.”
She’s either telepathic or those bed covers are really bad.
*
School. Welcome to hell.
The school was much bigger than I expected it to be. Of course I was on the receiving end of a lot of stares, not just from kids, but also from some of the teachers. I was different from them – I wore a lot of black and I wasn’t miss cheery, bitchy prep. I was the strange new kid.
I fought my way through the crowded hallways until I made my way to the office.
The lady behind the desk was still relatively young and immediately looked up when I entered the room.
“New student?” she asked me and I nodded in response. “Name?”
“Jacey Monroe.”
She typed it into her computer and kept typing and clicking away.
“Here you go,” she said after a while, handing me a bunch of papers. “Your class schedule, campus map, school rules and everything else you might need to know. Welcome to Belleville High.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, turning away and stepping back out into the busy halls.
I was barely a few feet away from the door when I was practically pushed up against the wall when a body bumped into me.
“Watch it!” the jock snarled, walking on without a second glance.
“Sorry you bumped into me,” I muttered under my breath. “Jerk.”
I scuffled along trying my best not to get run over in the process. For the most part no one paid any real attention to me. I did hear one or two passing comments though and there were the exceptionally ‘special’ people who clearly thought I was less than the dirt on their shoes, but I honestly couldn’t care less. I’ll only have to put up with their crap for a short time.
I kept my head down as I searched for my first classroom. A door suddenly opened in front of me and I ran into a boy with hair as black as the night. His hands shot out, grabbing my arms to keep me from falling.
“Sorry,” he apologized.
“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I mumbled, breaking eye contact from his intense hazel-eyed gaze. “Excuse me.”
I stumbled on and finally reached room 107. The room was already full of students. Paper jets were flying across the room, a group of guys stood around two desks cheering on their friends who were in a serious arm wrestling match, some girls were checking on their make-up while everyone else stood around talking animatedly. I hid behind my hair as I made my way to an empty desk at the back of the room.
*
The day was fairly uneventful for the most part and finally it was time for my favorite class, art. Yes, I loved drawing and I was not too bad at it either. I had art the fifth period.
The teacher came in and greeted everyone. “Good day, class. Today I will not give you a lot of work, because you are going to draw me something. Anything. I want you to use your imagination. Draw me anything that tickles your mind at the moment or maybe speaks to you in some way. It will be like show and tell. You show me your picture and I will be able to tell what you are thinking as well as where your artistic skills are at the moment, whether it’s just a hobby or whether you’re only here, because you didn’t want to take history.” He gave a short chuckle, “Come on. Don’t just sit there. Start drawing.”
I pulled out my sketchpad and a few pencils and bit my lip, staring at the page, wondering what to draw. I picked up a pencil and pressed the tip down on a blank page, pulling it down and then my hand seemed to have a life of its own, moving up and down across the page, pressing, dragging, sketching as it went. I drew an angel. She was sitting on the ground, nearly in a heap and one of her wings was broken. She was bruised and dirty. There was almost nothing angelic about her.
I suddenly became aware of someone standing close to me and realized that my teacher was watching me work over my shoulder. Focus on what you’re drawing. Yeah, like that will be easy with him staring over my shoulder.
“May I?” he asked, reaching out a hand toward my drawing.
I put down the pencil in my hand and handed him the sketchbook. I watched his face as he studied the picture. It was quite unnerving, because I had no idea what he was thinking. His face was impassive for the first few seconds as his eyes darted from one corner of the paper to the other, obviously taking in every detail. His brow creased in a slight frown and he made a quiet noise in the back of his throat.
“Please come see me after class,” he said monotonous, handing me back the picture and walking back to his desk.
Great! What? Why did he want to see me after class, to tell me that my picture was too dark, too emo? That I should draw happier and lighter pictures? Sunshine and flowers? Well, screw him. I’ll show him sunshine and flowers, I thought, pulling out a clean page and fumbling for a black pen. Before I could start drawing him a pitch black sunflower, the bell rang. I hurriedly grabbed my things, intending to sneak out, but as I got to my feet and noticed the teacher watching me intently. It’s like he knew what I was planning.
Unwillingly, I made my way to the front stopping in front of his desk while the rest of the class cleared out.
“We didn’t talk before class. I’m Mr. Hinckley, your art teacher,” he introduced himself with a warm smile. “You must be Jacey Monroe.”
I nodded once in response, waiting for the same, boring speech to come my way.
“Miss Monroe, I looked at your drawing and I have to say it is really good. In fact, for someone at your age and level, it is extraordinary. You’re way above the average of all your fellow class mates, probably even half my senior students. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve come across a natural talent like yours.”
I gaped at him in surprise, because this was not what I had expected.
“I have a suggestion,” he continued. “How would you like it if I moved you up to my senior class? The grades will be a lot harder and so will tasks and assignments. I would advise it though, because you are on a much higher level than your grade. You’ll learn a lot more, because I don’t think this current class has anything to offer you. You know more than is expected. You don’t have to decide immediately, but I want you to think about it.”
“Yes, I mean, of course, Sir. There isn’t really anything to think about. Thank you.”
He was ecstatic. “Excellent! Here, take this to the office. They will give you a new schedule. Then I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
I nod, accepting the slip of paper from him and making my way to the school’s office in order to get my new class schedule.
*
I walked along the street, peering into shop windows and getting to know the area around my new school and close to my new home. The streets were bustling with kids on bicycles and groups of friends hanging out after school. I walked around unnoticed as the late afternoon sun was waning. My hand dug around my pocket for my phone and I put it to my ear. It rang a few times before going through to voicemail.
“Hey, I’m not here at the moment. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you asap.”
“Hey. I’m just calling to tell you that I’m okay. I survived my first day. I hate it here, though, the people are…” I sighed deeply. “Honestly, I don’t have anything to complain about, yet. My new school is just like any other American school with the same stereotypes and stuff. My new guardian, she’s nice. She’s young. I think she might actually try to respect my private space. Maybe we won’t have too many problems. And my art teacher, Mr. Hinckley seems cool. He’s moving me up to his senior class, because he thinks I have a natural talent. That’s good I guess. It’s not permanent though, because I’m coming home. I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll find a way.” I sighed once again. I wasn’t happy here. “I miss you. I...”
“Whoa, watch out,” someone exclaimed and I felt my shoulder bump into another body. My cell phone flew through the air and pages and pens rained down on the dirty pavement from the hands of my victim.
“Dammit!” I hissed annoyed, grabbing my phone back up only to see that the call had ended and there was a scratch on the cover. Shit. It was a damn gift given to me not even a month ago. My best friend somehow managed to get me the phone when we found out I was being transferred to New Jersey. That way we could keep in touch or I could call him if I needed him. Now it was damaged. I glared up at the person I ran into and realized that it was the same kid from school I ran into earlier that day. He was scrambling around in an attempt to gather all his own belongings.
“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” I demanded angrily.
“Hey, you ran into me,” he shot back, straightening up and staring me dead in the eyes. “I tried to get out of the way, but you were off in your own little world not even noticing me, but I guess that’s cool. It’s not like I’m not used to it by now. When I saw you this morning I figured that you were the type of person I would be able to get along with, but whatever, new girl. Who needs friends when you're new anyway?”
“Just… watch where you’re going!” I snapped feebly, turning on my heel and storming off. He had every right to be ticked off. I bit his head off for no reason. I was the one at fault not him. Maybe I should go back and apologize. Or not. He would think I’m being nice and probably want to be friends. Not going to happen.
I found the store I was looking for and ducked inside to buy some new sheets and curtains for my bed and bedroom.
*
“That was a great choice,” Lisa said from behind and I spun around in shock to face her.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” she smiled apologetically, coming into the room.
The new bedding was a dark purple with black print and the drapes were a similar color. The room looked a lot better and homier already.
“How was the first day of school?”
Shit, I couldn’t answer this one with a nod. She knew this, because she was smiling.
“Okay,” I shrugged with disinterest doing my best to give off a no-care look.
Ha! Top that.
“Really? What did you do all day?”
Oh, she’s good. I sighed peeved.
“I got my schedule, got lost a few times and went to class. It was a normal school day.”
“See, that wasn’t too hard. At least now I know you can talk,” she said laughing. “Are the other kids and the teachers nice?”
“They are the same as every other school,” I grumble in response.
“How’s that?” she wanted to know curiously.
When I agreed to stay with her I did not agree to conversations.
“The kids are total bitches and so are the teachers.”
Hopefully that shocked her enough for her to leave me alone. For some strange reason she looked amused.
“I thought they’d have changed since my school years, but it sounds like they’ve gotten worse.”
I smiled wryly.
Then she said, “I have an idea! I will buy some paint and then we can re-paint your room. We can do it this weekend.”
A smile spread across my face, the first smile since I arrived in Belleville. I loved anything that concerned art and painting my room could be fun. At least then I’ll be rid of the horrible pale color the walls currently had.
I suppressed my eagerness and nodded slowly. “Sure, that sounds okay.”
She stared at me intently for a few seconds and I wondered what was going through her mind.
“Then we’ll do it,” she finally smiled. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” She turned and left the room.
I looked around the empty room and pulled out my phone, texting my best friend.
I’ll be okay.
The sudden ring of my alarm clock scared the shit out of me and I nearly tumbled out of my bed. I groaned loudly. Six thirty was too early for any person to be awake, but this person needed to get ready for her first day at a new school. Great. Introduce yourself. Make friends. Try to fit in. Find your way around campus. Don't get eaten by a cheerleader or trampled by a jock. Today was just something I was greatly looking forward to. /Or not/.
I could smell breakfast already and it smelled good. It’s been a while since I had a proper home cooked meal. The orphanage’s food was the worst and last night I didn’t want to sit around a dinner table exchanging life stories with my new caretaker so I skipped dinner and went to bed early. My best friend tried to persuade me to make an effort, but he knew as well as I did that that was not going to happen. He also knew why not, that’s why I couldn’t comprehend why he was still trying.
My thoughts were way too heavy for so early in the morning and I slowly fell out of bed with a deep sigh. My feet slowly shuffled over to my backpack allowing me to pull out a pair of black knee-length pants and a red t-shirt. Seemed good enough for the first day. I snuck into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. A shower would be heavenly right now and probably the only thing that would wake me up. There was always coffee, but I’ll get to that immediately after washing off my travelling from the day before. After I got out of the shower, I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and applied some eyeliner and I was all set to go.
“Good morning! Did you sleep well?” Those were the words she greeted me with. It was a bit too cheery for me – I was obviously not much of a morning person.
I gave her a nod in acknowledgement. It was probably driving her crazy, but I couldn’t possibly care less. She would be calling my social worker soon.
“Okay. Well, I made you some toast and there is porridge on the stove. You can make yourself some coffee otherwise there is juice or milk in the fridge.”
Silence.
I find it hilarious: her non-stop talking and my total disregard. I’m really mean. She’s just trying to be nice and make me feel at home. At this rate I’ll be back at the orphanage in no time. This time it will be a good thing, because I really don’t want to be here. It’s miles from Chicago, in other words, too far. My best friend is there. Chicago is huge. Couldn’t they get me another home there? Oh yeah, I’ve already been through them all, I think bitterly.
My thoughts are interrupted when she says, “Here is some money. You can go buy yourself some new bedding after school. If there’s anything left you can buy yourself some other things as well. Oh, and there’s a bag in your closet with anything you might need for school.”
She’s either telepathic or those bed covers are really bad.
*
School. Welcome to hell.
The school was much bigger than I expected it to be. Of course I was on the receiving end of a lot of stares, not just from kids, but also from some of the teachers. I was different from them – I wore a lot of black and I wasn’t miss cheery, bitchy prep. I was the strange new kid.
I fought my way through the crowded hallways until I made my way to the office.
The lady behind the desk was still relatively young and immediately looked up when I entered the room.
“New student?” she asked me and I nodded in response. “Name?”
“Jacey Monroe.”
She typed it into her computer and kept typing and clicking away.
“Here you go,” she said after a while, handing me a bunch of papers. “Your class schedule, campus map, school rules and everything else you might need to know. Welcome to Belleville High.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, turning away and stepping back out into the busy halls.
I was barely a few feet away from the door when I was practically pushed up against the wall when a body bumped into me.
“Watch it!” the jock snarled, walking on without a second glance.
“Sorry you bumped into me,” I muttered under my breath. “Jerk.”
I scuffled along trying my best not to get run over in the process. For the most part no one paid any real attention to me. I did hear one or two passing comments though and there were the exceptionally ‘special’ people who clearly thought I was less than the dirt on their shoes, but I honestly couldn’t care less. I’ll only have to put up with their crap for a short time.
I kept my head down as I searched for my first classroom. A door suddenly opened in front of me and I ran into a boy with hair as black as the night. His hands shot out, grabbing my arms to keep me from falling.
“Sorry,” he apologized.
“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I mumbled, breaking eye contact from his intense hazel-eyed gaze. “Excuse me.”
I stumbled on and finally reached room 107. The room was already full of students. Paper jets were flying across the room, a group of guys stood around two desks cheering on their friends who were in a serious arm wrestling match, some girls were checking on their make-up while everyone else stood around talking animatedly. I hid behind my hair as I made my way to an empty desk at the back of the room.
*
The day was fairly uneventful for the most part and finally it was time for my favorite class, art. Yes, I loved drawing and I was not too bad at it either. I had art the fifth period.
The teacher came in and greeted everyone. “Good day, class. Today I will not give you a lot of work, because you are going to draw me something. Anything. I want you to use your imagination. Draw me anything that tickles your mind at the moment or maybe speaks to you in some way. It will be like show and tell. You show me your picture and I will be able to tell what you are thinking as well as where your artistic skills are at the moment, whether it’s just a hobby or whether you’re only here, because you didn’t want to take history.” He gave a short chuckle, “Come on. Don’t just sit there. Start drawing.”
I pulled out my sketchpad and a few pencils and bit my lip, staring at the page, wondering what to draw. I picked up a pencil and pressed the tip down on a blank page, pulling it down and then my hand seemed to have a life of its own, moving up and down across the page, pressing, dragging, sketching as it went. I drew an angel. She was sitting on the ground, nearly in a heap and one of her wings was broken. She was bruised and dirty. There was almost nothing angelic about her.
I suddenly became aware of someone standing close to me and realized that my teacher was watching me work over my shoulder. Focus on what you’re drawing. Yeah, like that will be easy with him staring over my shoulder.
“May I?” he asked, reaching out a hand toward my drawing.
I put down the pencil in my hand and handed him the sketchbook. I watched his face as he studied the picture. It was quite unnerving, because I had no idea what he was thinking. His face was impassive for the first few seconds as his eyes darted from one corner of the paper to the other, obviously taking in every detail. His brow creased in a slight frown and he made a quiet noise in the back of his throat.
“Please come see me after class,” he said monotonous, handing me back the picture and walking back to his desk.
Great! What? Why did he want to see me after class, to tell me that my picture was too dark, too emo? That I should draw happier and lighter pictures? Sunshine and flowers? Well, screw him. I’ll show him sunshine and flowers, I thought, pulling out a clean page and fumbling for a black pen. Before I could start drawing him a pitch black sunflower, the bell rang. I hurriedly grabbed my things, intending to sneak out, but as I got to my feet and noticed the teacher watching me intently. It’s like he knew what I was planning.
Unwillingly, I made my way to the front stopping in front of his desk while the rest of the class cleared out.
“We didn’t talk before class. I’m Mr. Hinckley, your art teacher,” he introduced himself with a warm smile. “You must be Jacey Monroe.”
I nodded once in response, waiting for the same, boring speech to come my way.
“Miss Monroe, I looked at your drawing and I have to say it is really good. In fact, for someone at your age and level, it is extraordinary. You’re way above the average of all your fellow class mates, probably even half my senior students. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve come across a natural talent like yours.”
I gaped at him in surprise, because this was not what I had expected.
“I have a suggestion,” he continued. “How would you like it if I moved you up to my senior class? The grades will be a lot harder and so will tasks and assignments. I would advise it though, because you are on a much higher level than your grade. You’ll learn a lot more, because I don’t think this current class has anything to offer you. You know more than is expected. You don’t have to decide immediately, but I want you to think about it.”
“Yes, I mean, of course, Sir. There isn’t really anything to think about. Thank you.”
He was ecstatic. “Excellent! Here, take this to the office. They will give you a new schedule. Then I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
I nod, accepting the slip of paper from him and making my way to the school’s office in order to get my new class schedule.
*
I walked along the street, peering into shop windows and getting to know the area around my new school and close to my new home. The streets were bustling with kids on bicycles and groups of friends hanging out after school. I walked around unnoticed as the late afternoon sun was waning. My hand dug around my pocket for my phone and I put it to my ear. It rang a few times before going through to voicemail.
“Hey, I’m not here at the moment. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you asap.”
“Hey. I’m just calling to tell you that I’m okay. I survived my first day. I hate it here, though, the people are…” I sighed deeply. “Honestly, I don’t have anything to complain about, yet. My new school is just like any other American school with the same stereotypes and stuff. My new guardian, she’s nice. She’s young. I think she might actually try to respect my private space. Maybe we won’t have too many problems. And my art teacher, Mr. Hinckley seems cool. He’s moving me up to his senior class, because he thinks I have a natural talent. That’s good I guess. It’s not permanent though, because I’m coming home. I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll find a way.” I sighed once again. I wasn’t happy here. “I miss you. I...”
“Whoa, watch out,” someone exclaimed and I felt my shoulder bump into another body. My cell phone flew through the air and pages and pens rained down on the dirty pavement from the hands of my victim.
“Dammit!” I hissed annoyed, grabbing my phone back up only to see that the call had ended and there was a scratch on the cover. Shit. It was a damn gift given to me not even a month ago. My best friend somehow managed to get me the phone when we found out I was being transferred to New Jersey. That way we could keep in touch or I could call him if I needed him. Now it was damaged. I glared up at the person I ran into and realized that it was the same kid from school I ran into earlier that day. He was scrambling around in an attempt to gather all his own belongings.
“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” I demanded angrily.
“Hey, you ran into me,” he shot back, straightening up and staring me dead in the eyes. “I tried to get out of the way, but you were off in your own little world not even noticing me, but I guess that’s cool. It’s not like I’m not used to it by now. When I saw you this morning I figured that you were the type of person I would be able to get along with, but whatever, new girl. Who needs friends when you're new anyway?”
“Just… watch where you’re going!” I snapped feebly, turning on my heel and storming off. He had every right to be ticked off. I bit his head off for no reason. I was the one at fault not him. Maybe I should go back and apologize. Or not. He would think I’m being nice and probably want to be friends. Not going to happen.
I found the store I was looking for and ducked inside to buy some new sheets and curtains for my bed and bedroom.
*
“That was a great choice,” Lisa said from behind and I spun around in shock to face her.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” she smiled apologetically, coming into the room.
The new bedding was a dark purple with black print and the drapes were a similar color. The room looked a lot better and homier already.
“How was the first day of school?”
Shit, I couldn’t answer this one with a nod. She knew this, because she was smiling.
“Okay,” I shrugged with disinterest doing my best to give off a no-care look.
Ha! Top that.
“Really? What did you do all day?”
Oh, she’s good. I sighed peeved.
“I got my schedule, got lost a few times and went to class. It was a normal school day.”
“See, that wasn’t too hard. At least now I know you can talk,” she said laughing. “Are the other kids and the teachers nice?”
“They are the same as every other school,” I grumble in response.
“How’s that?” she wanted to know curiously.
When I agreed to stay with her I did not agree to conversations.
“The kids are total bitches and so are the teachers.”
Hopefully that shocked her enough for her to leave me alone. For some strange reason she looked amused.
“I thought they’d have changed since my school years, but it sounds like they’ve gotten worse.”
I smiled wryly.
Then she said, “I have an idea! I will buy some paint and then we can re-paint your room. We can do it this weekend.”
A smile spread across my face, the first smile since I arrived in Belleville. I loved anything that concerned art and painting my room could be fun. At least then I’ll be rid of the horrible pale color the walls currently had.
I suppressed my eagerness and nodded slowly. “Sure, that sounds okay.”
She stared at me intently for a few seconds and I wondered what was going through her mind.
“Then we’ll do it,” she finally smiled. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” She turned and left the room.
I looked around the empty room and pulled out my phone, texting my best friend.
I’ll be okay.
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