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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Sam and I go way back. As I said before, our parents were friends, which meant we grew up together.
When my parents died, I thought that Sam would be there with me. Helping me.
But, of course, I thought wrong. The instant when he found out that I was orphaned, he left. He made new friends, didn't care about me at all.
Around a decade of friendship broken.
I get that we were only 13. But, I realized that moment that I had lost everything. He never visited me, never tried to contact me.
I made it to the Lit. class, with a "little" help from Sam. We were late.
The teacher was balding, and had a pinstripe suit. I stifled a laugh.
"Nice of you to join us... late." the man said, glaring at us, from the brim of his square glasses.
Sam apologized before sitting down in an empty seat. I did the same, sitting as far from Sam as I could.
"Everyone, please flip to Chapter 4 of Moby Dick please," the teacher started.
"Miss. Charlotte, I assume you are the newest addition to our class? We are reading through Moby Dick and studying English literature." the teacher explained.
I gave a curt nod, burying my head in my arms.
I was rarely embarrassed, but the stares I received from some of the students made me want to shrink.
What had happened to the old Charlotte? The tough, unbothered Charlotte? The Charlotte from only a few days ago? The one before stepping into the high-school?
The class went by quick. The teacher ignored me for most of the class, mainly because I didn't know a thing.
The bell rung, signaling the end of class. Sam made his way over to me. I could hear his breathing.
Gross.
I bent my head, my hair shielding his face from mine.
"We have calculus next?" he tried.
I pretended not to hear him. I gathered my books in my arms, pushed back my chair and made myself walk out of the classroom, avoiding Sam's gaze.
Sam stepped in front of me, once we were out the classroom. He started to walk and for some odd reason, I felt the need to follow him. We stopped by our lockers, retrieving our math books which were very thick. I let out an internal groan.
I kept reminding myself that staying in high-school was going to keep me safe without much effort, but I kept feeling the need to sprint out the high-school doors.
