Why a girl like me???

Chapter two what the hell

Isabel pov

--------------12 Years later----------

I'm 14 going on 15now and still have foster parents I've been with them ever sends I was 10 and there not the best. I still remember Cameron he got adopted before me to these rich people. He had promised to come back for me and to never louse hope in him but I'm still here and the hope is fading. "ISABEL!!!" My foster mom yells from the livening room. "What" I say walking over there. "Don't you dear talk to me that way. After all I do take care of your worthless ass" she said back to me. "How may I help you make my life more fucked up foster mom" I say to her. "That's it. Come on you have school" she said. "I know" I say leavening on my way to school. It was my first time in High School and I'm neves. I have no friends I pushed them all away cause in the end I don't want to get hart broke. But now I want friends so bad but know one comes my way. I'm the laughing stalk in all my schools. "Hi can you help me find room 523?" I say to a girl that looked around my age. "Ugh no bitch find out on your own!" The girl said walking away. "Need some help?" A handsome looking man said. "Ya I'm trying to find room 523" I say smiling. "Ya it's a up your ass" the handsome boy said laughing and walking away with his friends. "Ugh" I say walking away. I soon find where the room is and I walk in and sit next to a nice young boy. The bell rings and every one is quiet. "Ok every one I'm Mr.Jonson I'm going to be your English teacher" The teacher said. "I'm going to take roll call and you will say here and tell us something about your self". Mr. Jonson said. "Madison hall" he said. "here and I am a sweet hart I promise" she said. "Cassandra Barraza" "here and I'm kinda sassy girl and I love to play soccer". And the list goes on and on. "Isabel Dalles" "here and I'm kinda shy". I was so scared to really say a lot but this year I will get lots of friends.

*after school I'm just going to skip to after cause talking about school makes me sick*

I walk in the house and slam the door. "What the hell is all this?" I say. "You can talk like the to Valerie (foster mom) but you can not talk to me that way!" My foster father David said. "Who's bags are these?" I say in a nicer ton. "Good that you said that there yours" he said pointing to me.