- all teenagers - one friend group - different lives -
Everyone always wants to speak about themselves and about great things happening to them, but no one ever wants to listen to the ugly truth.
- mental illnesses - abuse - sexualities -
I'm 17 years old, I'm bi, my height's 5'7 and I'm Canadian. I go to Ravenwood high - a elite high school for rich bastards - luckily I found my group of people there.
My hair's brown, not light, not dark, balance. Balance - a word that has lost all it's meaning to me, since I can't keep it.
Hi, I'm Natalia, I'm 17 years old and I have anger issues, as well as mommy and daddy issues.
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"Mrs. Brown!" Mr. Mason snapped his long, bony fingers in front of my face. I zoned back into reality.
"Err, yeah?" I sat up straight, hearing whispers behind my back - my classmates- probably laughing at me again.
"Were you sleeping in class?!"
"What? No!" I actually wasn't. I was just zoned out, I always had issues focusing in class.
"Well then, answer the 5th question then", he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
5th question. 5th question. 5th question.
My eyes snapped at the board, but there wasn't any question number 5. My gaze fell into my book and I scanned the page - question 5. Found it.
Oh my god! Today had to be my lucky day, because whoever used this book before me wrote the answer to this question inside.
"The equivalent to x is 9"
"Very well", he said through clenched teeth, when his gaze hardened, I knew he despised me, but he did for no reason! "I would like to speak to you after class", he didn't even lower his voice, that fucker.
My hand hardened around my pencil. My answer was correct! He has no right to do that! No right to even say it that loud in front of everyone so they could humiliate me. No right to waste my precious lunch time just to tell me for the hundredth time that I'm not good enough for this stupid school.
Fire lit up in my eyes. I wanted to say something back.
No- needed to, but if I did, I would get into more trouble.
My hand squeezed the pencil harder. I started to shake. That old motherfucker deserved to get this pencil stuck up his ass. Now both my hands were around the pencil, they pressed harder and harder. Easing the urge to hit someone, by putting the pressure onto the pencil.
Oh God how much I hate him. How much I hate injustice.
Snap. The pencil snapped into two. At the same time the bell rang. Everyone stood up and hurried out, not even sparring me a glace.
I sat in my place, all my things packed into my backpack already and when I looked in Mr. Masons direction, I saw my chance. He wasn't looking, he was struggling to get some papers into his bag.
