Defamation

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My name is Charlie Winslow. My parents are horrible people, but I still love them. No matter the horrible crimes they've committed. You see, my parents are both in jail for 37 first degree murder allegations. Together they killed 40 people, but 3 were not intentional. I've been living with my Aunt Susan and my Uncle Harold. They are not the most exciting people, and they are always so nice. They pity me and make me feel horrible about something that doesn't concern me. They always tell me that they are sorry and that they wish I didn't have to live in a violent environment. See the thing is my parents were never violent. They never laid a hand on me, even when I almost set the house on fire (accidentally). Today was going to be my first day back to school, because during the trial everybody thought I was too "unstable." Like seriously, I don't really care that much. Any who, Susan made eggs, grits, bacon, and biscuits and Harold packed me a sandwich in the shape of a heart and an apple. What the fuck am I, five? Susan can't cook, she over-seasoned the eggs, the grits were still filled with water, and the biscuits were so hard that I couldn't break them. Then Harold packed me a turkey sandwich, with cheese and that's it. How dry could that sandwich possibly be. Then he packed some moldy apple. All I took was some bacon before going to the bus stop to catch the bus. I hate almost everyone at the bus stop. I either want them to get hit by the bus, or run over by the bus. Either way, they should die. Who the hell screams in the fucking early hours of the morning, banshees? Then I can hear them constantly commenting on my appearance and what has happened in my life. It doesn't concern them so they shouldn't even be thinking to come out of their mouth about my parents. Susan and Harold (I don't really consider them to be my Aunt and Uncle) don't think I should visit my parents because they are bad for me. I do anyway, I see them at least once every two weeks. They are in the same building, in the insane asylum. My parents pleaded insanity and they got it. I'm stopped mid thought when the bus pulls up. Some girl pushes me out of the way to get on the bus before me and I hold back the urge to yank her fake ass weave out of her nappy head. I sit down in my normal spot and the comments start pouring. "Who told her she was cute." "Is she emo." "She always wears that damn black." "Her hair is totally fake." I resist the urge once again to whip my neck back and reply, "What, and your hair is real?" The bus pulls up to the school and I get off the bus as quickly as possible. I go to Emery High and I am one of the few mixed girls here. Everybody is either black and ratchet or white and fake. There is no in between. This school is smack dab in the center of the two races, the rich and snobby white people, and the not so rich, ratchet black people. I happen to be the only mixed person who isn't white and black. I'm black, white, and Asian. My mom was white and Asian and my dad was black. They were so cute together. I make it to class the same time I always do and I am once again met with stink looks. I hear Stacy speak up, "Look everybody, it has returned." I just shake my head. Stacy is only bold enough to speak to me this way because she thinks I'm harmless and I'm not black. You can't really see that I'm black unless you really look at my body. Stacy is also daddy's little girl. Her father pours millions of dollars into this school and it is the only reason everything is so update. Any chance she gets she uses this to rub into her fellow classmates' faces and also the teachers. I don't really think teachers like Stacy and I don't think she is that bright. Our teacher, Mrs. Stanley begins class, I zone out, all while paying attention. Teachers rarely ever call on me for a reason, but that doesn't matter. Stacy chooses to open her mouth, and not like she normally does when she's on her knees, "Why don't you ask Charles?" My name isn't Charles and I'm not a boy, I openly glare at her ( in my head) before looking at the teacher. Stacy continues speaking, "She doesn't ever pay attention and you always pick on us. Why not pick on her?" I roll my eyes at that comment and Mrs. Stanley repeats the question, "What is the slope of the line tangent to the graph of the function f (x)=ln(sin2x+3) at the point where x= π/3 ?" I do the math in my head and Stacy speaks before I can, "Mrs. S can we put a little wager on her question? Ten thousand dollars to you and her each, if she can get it right and if she gets it wrong I'll talk to her about her punishment now." Mrs. Stanley has no choice but to nod. Stacy now looks at me, "So loser, if you get it wrong you get to be my slave for a week. You'll also wear what I have sent to you every day for a month. You'll also have to shave your head bald. Finally, in every gym class for the rest of the year you will dress in the nude." I just nod my head, she must really think I'm stupid. You don't get into Honors Calculus as a Junior (in regular classes). She is only in here because "daddy," payed for it. I do the math over again before going to write the answer on the board, I wrote, 2√3/15. Stacy speaks before the teacher does, "Ha, you got it wrong. Sorry Mrs. S, I guess you'll have to stay broke." The class burst out into raging fits of laughter, but Mrs. Stanley and I make eye contact. I smile and she smirks. She stands and raises her hand and almost immediately the laughing stops. "I'm sorry to tell you this Stacy, but her answer is correct. You owe the both of us 10, 000 dollars, and I have you saying it on recording. Class, please read chapters 15-30 of your textbook and answer every question you find. Stacy, you need to show me every piece of work and also you need to complete 1-14 of the textbook. If you have any concerns about your homework, oh well. You will pass this class Stacy or you will fail. By the way, my name is Mrs. Stanley, not Mrs. S. Thank you class, you are dismissed." I smile because I know that she has been waiting to do that ever since Stacy started coming to this school. I thank Mrs. Stanley before heading to my next class. I get into the class and internally groan, why must I have every class with this thing? I sit in my seat, once again next to the window and in the back. I do the same thing I did in Mrs. Stanley's class, except I hate this class. I already know the answers to the questions for one reason, I read ahead because I know I won't be paying attention to this. Mr. Oakland is not a very nice man, and if he thinks you don't pay attention he'll ask you a question. If you get it wrong, boom, detention. Needless to say, he is always asking me questions, and I've never gotten a detention. I'm quickly brought out of my thought when I hear the door slam open. Some kid wearing all black speaks, "Sorry I'm late. I had someone to fini-I mean see someone." He sits next to me and keeps his hood on. I instantly let my mind wander. There is no doubt that he was going to say finish. Is he like a murderer? Or is he being sent to protect me because of something my parents did? I instantly regret thinking about them, I fear the tears falling, yet I ignore them. It isn't like anyone is paying attention, then Mr. Oakland speaks. "Okay class, that is all for today. This will be one of your only free periods in my class. Use the last 30 minutes to do as you wish. If you choose to leave, please attend your next class. Thank you." He is probably fed up with being a teacher, that, or he saw me crying. The new guy gets up to leave, and instantly my brain tells me to follow him. So I do. He walks behind the school and starts heading into the woods. I look at the time and it hasn't even been 10 minutes and apparently we've reached our destination. I look back up and there is a shack. He goes in and I stay outside and look into the place through a window. I see him pull out what looks to be a knife before drilling it into a body. I almost screamed. He seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. Sick, twisted bastard. I step away and slowly start to make my way back, but not before he catches up to me. He yanks me against a tree and says, "Curiosity killed the cat." Before I even think about what I'm saying, "And satisfaction brought it back." He just smirks at me, "This is the part where you scream for help before I slice your pretty little body up into chunks." I don't register the threat, just the fact that he is the only boy to call me pretty. I sort of smile and then remember that he is there. I speak again, "It sounds like you've got some issues. They seem personal, so leave me alone." I try to walk away, but he slams me back into the tree. "I don't like the tone of voice you're using with me, " he says. I just nod, but the word vomit comes back up, "Go fuck yourself." I really did it then because he punched me in the face and then everything went black.