"Mitchell Walden!" I hear Mrs. Hudson's voice to my left. I shift towards her, and she has the angriest expression on her face. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩, I think to myself. "Yes, ma'am?" I say. "In the hallway, now!" I follow her to the door, which has always been known for its insanely loud creaking, which almost all the dipshits at my school laugh at, like it's a fucking fart noise. These kids seriously need to find their sense of humour, and quick. We step out into the hall, where my teachers from last year stare me down, watching as yet another oh-so-smart teacher belittles me and scolds me. "You have one chance, and one chance only, to tell me what you said to Lionel Brown." "Well," I begin to say, "Lionel was calling me the P word for not wanting to let him copy off of me, so I told him to go sit on a stick." Mrs. Hudson sighs. "What am I gonna do with you?" She says. Her face is so close to mine, I have to focus on her features one at a time. Her grey eyes, her obviously dyed jet black hair, her breath, which smells like that of an abandoned basement. "Go sit down, I've got a phone call to make." I enter the room. 𝘚𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘢𝘢𝘬. My shoes slant upwards when I walk, so it gives me a slight but noticeable bounce in my step. The way I see it, it's just more ammunition for the popular football assholes to bully me with.
I sit down at my seat, and lean back in my chair. "Psstt! Micky!" Allie. I turn around to face her. "What happened?" She asks me. "That dick Lionel snitched on me for telling him to shove it." I say at a whisper-yell. "What a tool." She says, a little quieter than me. "I know, ri-" I start to say, but then I notice Mrs. Hudson waling in, and I shut it. "Alright, guys, first things first." She says to the class. "When I call your name, say 'here'." We go through role, most of the class is here, and of course we're all bored out of our minds. It's a Monday in October, how excited do you expect us to be?
After what seems like hours of torment, our final class ends, and we're allowed to leave. As I walk down the hall, I hear a voice. "Mick! Hey, Mick!" This time the voice is Dee. She catches up to me, and starts walking beside me. "You on the bus today?" She asks in her deeper than usual voice. "Nah, Mom's goin out today, wants me to stay with Allie for a little bit." "Dude, really?! I'm gonna be at her place this afternoon, too!" she says. "Oh, cool," I say, "Yeah, my mom's probably out fuckin' some hobo for a little side cash." "Or maybe she's just a slut." Allie says as she sneaks up behind us, chuckling at her "joke".
"So," I say, "This might not be the best time to tell you guys this, but I've got ISS the rest of the week for what I said to Lionel." "DAMMIT, MICK!" Shouts Allie, shoving me into the pole that holds up the breezeway. "Woah woah woah," says Dee, reaching out and helping me up. "Not so aggresive with him, damn." "No, no, I deserved it." I say to Allie. "Shut up." She says to me, and walks off. I trail behind the group, constantly thinking about why I just let my friends (mainly Allie) abuse and beat the shit out of me. I would totally find new friends, but there's just something about Allie that I can't possibly drag myself away from.
YOU ARE READING
The Group
Teen FictionA group of young teenagers learning their ways around the world, still trying to discover themselves, and figure out who they are meant to be.
