Scarlett Oakes, a seventeen-year-old girl who loves boxing, is moved around a lot. Her mother died when she was nine, & her father shows very little interest in supporting Scarlett. At school, she meets a guy who pushes her buttons for fun. Will she...
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Highschool.
The place where many dreams go to die. I mean, you could go into high school and think you could become an actor or a singer, but you've got to have money to truly fulfill your dreams.
A lot of money. Not just two thousand dollars. The economy is rough.
I've always wanted to become a singer, my mother she used to sing to me when I was younger.
I grew up singing.. Mainly to myself, but whatever. I think I have a nice voice. Others might disagree.
"Watch out, bitch," A tall guy said as I ran into him. My phone skid across the floor, and my notebooks fell out of my hands.
"Oh! I'm sorry. It's not my fault you can't walk in a straight fucking line. If anything, you ran into me," I argued stubbornly, even though I know I ran into him, but he called me a bitch so I'm not gonna say sorry and get over with this.
"Whatever you say, bitch.." He drew out the word just to piss me off.
I wanted to throw a punch right then and there, but I just walked off.
I've been suspended for fighting a lot this year, and my dad never gets onto me, so theres no consequences once I get home.
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Once in class, I sat down and opened my biology notes. I hate having biology first period.
As I reviewed my completed notes for the test, he walked in.
Wearing a T-shirt that showed a woman's tits, with the caption "show me your milkers" like what the fuck.
The teacher looked up and frowned. What was funnier is her name is Mrs.Titman. I saw it on my schedule, and I laughed my ass off.
I guess he has a sense of humor.
"That's against dress code," Mrs.Titman huffed. She obviously didn't find the pokes at her name funny.
"Oh, this? It's my grandmother's shirt. She died last November.. it was truly a sadness. She loved this shirt, Mrs.Titman, please. I wear it in honor of her," He put his hand to his heart and sniffled. A group of kids in the back snickered.
Mrs.Titman sure wasn't buying this bullshit. And seemed to get angrier.
"Get out! And go to the principals office," Mrs.Titman yelled.
"Mrs.Titty.. I mean Mrs.Titman. I have a question," I raised my hand, and she focused her attention on me.
