Lemon Street

"First day of hell, more like it."

MONDAY, ONE WEEK LATER

School. The place where no one has any freedom or rights. At least that's how it was at my last school. Something in my gut told me that it would be the same. Jamie had come into my room at around midnight since her room was much colder than mine. I enjoyed fall much better than the summer but at night was when I had to be warm. My pair of army green jeans were on the floor next to Jamie's. I had traded them for grey pants to sleep in. Hanging from my closet was a white-and-black striped shirt and a cropped sleeveless leather vest. My hair was greased behind my ears on the sides and fell loosely in front of my eyes in wisps under my beanie. In my tote bag I threw in four notebooks, a bag of pencils, a book that I had yet to read, my lighter and an extra pair of white hightops that I had drawn on far too much.

Jamie had taken her motorcycle to the house of a girl she had met a few days ago, so Andy offered to take me. (To school, obviously.) I put on a heavy amount of eyeliner and mascara. A loud honk rang from outside. I ran down the stairs and out the door to see Andy sitting in his car waiting for me. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, "hey, Kali. Are you ready for your first day of school?"

"First day of hell, more like it."

We arrived at the school with time to spare, so I decided to sit by the large fountain in the front and relax. My back rested against the stone wall of the fountain as I pulled a book from my bag. Reading was the only truly peaceful thing that I enjoyed, besides being alone in the outdoors. The pages dragged on with the description of the main character's lover. Her hair was long and golden, shining like the sun and reflecting light wherever she went. Chloe was truly a masterpiece...

I grew bored of him emphasizing her features, wishing he could get to the point already. After a few minutes, the feeling of someone watching me started to rise in the back of my mind. I glanced up, scanning the outside area of the school for anyone that might have been watching me. To the left was only red bricks stacked meticulously to make the front wall of the school. Large unkempt bushes sagged below the building. Rows and rows of trees formed a light canopy above me. Peaceful. Nearly beautiful.

Extending my head all the way to the right, I saw the same boy sitting in the bed of his red Ford. He was staring right at me, barely even blinking. This was the creepiest boy I'd ever seen. He was tall and slender, with eyes like ice, piercing through my neck. His mouth was curled into a frightening smile, directed towards me. His fitted tank top had blood splattered on it, along with the large shirt hanging limp over his shoulders. His hair was long and black, falling over those cold, unfeeling eyes of his. I knew he was nothing but trouble. I was afraid to look at him any longer, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from his smile. He was popping his knuckles and wringing his hands. I was getting tired of his damn face. I waved at him slightly, hoping to deter his perverted eyes. He curled his fingers lightly, smiling ever wider. His eyes opened more, which made it even worse. Before I could flip him off another boy approached the truck, eyeing me from the side, then turning to the other.

They spoke for a few minutes, giving me time to put my book away and start walking towards the building. I heard footsteps approaching quickly behind me, causing me to reach in my back pocket for my switchblade. My arm was grabbed roughly and I was pulled back. I spun around and held my knife under the person's throat sideways, pressing the button as it made contact with skin, cutting a small slit under the person's jaw. I recognized him as the one who was talking with the creepy boy. His shaggy gray hair was pulled into a bun on the back of his head, with a few strands falling out. His eyes showed anger as he wiped the blood off his chin. I could tell I had made a mistake by hurting him, but I didn't care. No one grabbed me, and no one fought back. "My friend wants to talk to you," He said coldly, "though God knows why. Someone should teach you some manners."