But there was something about Charlotte. She wasn't like the most prettiest girl in the world, but anyone with heart could tell that she had a beautiful heart. A heart that could easily be broken. A heart that needed to be protected.
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Her pare...
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I can't believe it. I'm kind of actually in.
Well, I actually kind of can. I mean, it's not like I'm dreaming or whatever.
I blinked up at the tall buildings of the public high-school, not believing the office had trusted me to sign my own documents.
No wonder there are so much school shootings. No offense or anything.
I've spent the last 3 years of my sad, sad, sad life without any schooling, sleeping and eating wherever and whatever and here I was. At a high school.
I scoffed. At least I was still my dumb self. As always.
If you're wondering why the heck I'm out living by myself, there's a pretty good reason why.
My parents died when I was 13 years old. They used to be hotshot prosecutors and were rich. Just plain rich.
It's nothing to keep secret about, minus the people who hate me. It makes me feel more numb anyway.
I lived in an actual house, had everything a girl could need, and went to school. One day, they were killed by a guy who they helped put in jail. I was put into the system, and no relatives were anywhere even close. My parents hadn't written their will and stuff like that so basically, I was just left alone in the world of 7 billion people. And no one there to help me.
The orphanage was great, good food, nice adults, good kids, it was pretty nice, for the most part.
I call it the orphanage because it sounds more miserable. In real life, it's just the system. Group homes. Foster homes.
Anyway, I ran away and ended up living on the streets, like a street rat.
Shelters were out of the question, however. It's an easy place to track people, and even easier to kidnap them. Just being frank, I guess.
Someone would always be looking for me.
I'm not a safe person. There's a literal bounty on my head. I'm just trying to stay alive.
I know that high-school won't be nice to me. I just won't "fit in" with the rich, popular girls, or even the nerdy- but- pretty girls.
Is there a category for homeless, dirty girls?
The bell rings.
I haven't heard that sound in a pretty long time.
I walk into the building, no backpack or anything. Suddenly, a middle-aged woman strides over to me.
"You must be Charlotte, I'll lead you to your homeroom class. I'm Ms. Murray."
