Madly in love with twins

New people, School, and Total Hell

Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Shut up!
I slam my pale palm against the snooze button stoping the repeated beeping. I wipe my neon purple hair out of my eyes. Damn, I don't want to go to high school! I get up in defeat knowing I have to go to my first day of senior year.
Most people are be happy to going.
Senior year the glory year!
The year before we're let loose!
The year before we're on our own!
The last year of education, so in short, the year most people are excited for.
My opinion on all this hype? It's just another pathetic waste of time.

I step into my grey bathroom and start up the shower on medium temp. I strip out of my sweat pants and tank top leaving them in a pile of the counter. I'll probably be around to clean that later.

After wetting my impressive amount of hair down and squeezing coconut shampoo into my slender hands, I massage it through my long lots enjoying the lathering sound.
I take the dove soap and run it over my body feeling it suds up. The thick white layer left behind feels as though it's literally, melting the filth away.
After I wash off the remaining soap, I sigh at how much cleaner I feel. Hardly ever do I have enough time to soak in the tub.
Being done with my big final rinse, I shut off the knobs and bounce a bit to let the loose drops spill off.
I step out of the shower smelling the aroma of my familiar coconut shampoo and what smells to me like maybe vanilla? I don't quite know.
I take my Paul Mitchel brush and rake it through my hair getting out all the kinks. It's frustrating that everyday I shower and brush my hair out, but it still has a habit to become a birds nest by the time I get ready for bed.
I snarl as the brush snags more times than expected. My scalp always feels tender after I get out the big knots. It's painful but the refreshing kind of pain, like tweezing stray hairs that shouldn't be near your eyebrows.
I search through the bathroom drawers to find something to put on my wrists and creases of my neck for perfume.
Scent has always been huge for me. No matter what, I always like to have a nice clean scent. My mom always thought me that above all other things, a teenage girl should put hygiene as one of her top priorities. Some rules that a mother teaches a daughter, stay with them for a life time. I guess this would be one of them.
My hand grabs the nearest towel and I carelessly dry off with the cotton cloth. Going through my daily routine, I clasp my bra in the back, slip on my matching undies, and slide in my belly button ring. To keep the hair out of my face I wrap my hair into a towel and put it on-top of my head.
Walking over to my drawer, I pull out the outfit I choose the previous night. It didn't take too long to decide because it is only school.

You know what? Getting dressed with music would be a lot better right now.  

With my batman romper and combat boots now on my body, I weightlessly plop onto my galaxy print bed and lace the boots up tight. It's very tedious work to be honest.
Cross, poke through the hole, and tighten. Cross, poke through the hole, and tighten. Cross, poke through the hole, and tighten.
I glance over at the stupid clock and see I'm making good time. Sometimes I get nervous that I'm turning into one of those girls that needs hours to get ready. So far though, I apparently only need ten more minutes.
Carefully I swipe eyeliner over the lids of my eyes making large thick cat eyes. I put on cover girl manga mascara fanning out my lashes perfectly giving both top and bottom lashes a spider like effect. I put my batman belt around the romper to finish my outfit that would probably appeal to many nerds.
The romper is black with a bunch of small batman symbols the belt is solid black and the middle is one big batman symbol. I click play on my phone hearing Glad You Came Pop Goes Punk by We Came As Romans version play. I jam out in my head. I like heavy metal, but every once in a while poppy upbeat music is nice.

After blow drying my hair and putting it up in a ponytail with a bump in the front, I grab my black turtle shell backpack and slip it on.
I've used this backpack for three years in a row now. A while back, when my mom and I went to the big mall just outside of town, I got the bag. It was marked down from $69.99 to $19.99. It accrued to me at the time that it was a no brainer to buy. It was like $30.00 off, I mean come on.
Every since then, I've grown attached to the bag. I feel as though it's a part of me now, which isn't the most enjoyable sounding phrase.
I make sure I have my Dr Pepper, notebook, creepypasta book, and pens. I take my Pokémon skateboard and slip out the door grabbing an apple.

I live with my mom, never knew my dad.
Let's be clear here, I'm not one of those kids, though.
The ones who act out because they didn't get enough time with daddy or resent men because of what my mom went through. I just take it with a grain of salt. I have a loving mom who has always taken good care of me, and it will always be enough for me. My mom is a cop so she is rarely home. Kind of shitty, kind of good.
I crunch into the maroon Apple while speeding down the sidewalk. The board's sensitive to all the cracks, big and small. It bumps and jerks randomly.
I think it took me two weeks before I could even stand on the board without falling off. I see school up ahead and feel a bit sick. Most people think I'm a mute cause I don't talk to anyone. Although I don't talk doesn't mean I can't hold my own. It's kind of sweet being a loner because nobody wanted to share a locker with me so I have a huge ass locker to myself.  But let's be clear, I can talk, I just choose not to. I push my curly hair back and skate up the ramp almost running into a bunch a people. I keep skating not caring about the people who at throwing swears at me.
I come to my locker; it's a new one. I've had the same damn locker for three years; number 496.  It's a small school only having about 150 or so lockers. I have no clue why, but the numbers start at 496 and end at 667. This year I got assigned locker 666. The last two lockers are located at the way back of school. Those two are usually never used. I chuckle to myself. They gave me number 666?
How fucking ironic.
I skate down the hall slowing a bit seeing my new locker up a head. The whole feel of this hall is off. I'm not used to it but I mean hey, at least it's a pretty unused hall. I open it up and put my skateboard in there. It rattles against the aging tin but settles quickly. I put up band stickers and a black and red speaker. I add a picture of cat with a top hat on. Haha I love cats. I bring my backpack everywhere I go so it saves room in my locker for more random shit I want to add later in the year.

"Okay..  first period is.... " I trail my finger across my schedule like a grid.
"math class."
I let out a knowing groan as I proceed into the class with my head down. People don't particularly like me, and it's pretty fair to say I'm not people's biggest fan either. I stalk to where you'd expect me to sit; the back left corner. I slip into the seat. I love it because nobody sits in the back two rows so I'm not bothered, it's just an added bonus that it's right next to a window.
I watch as the hippie teacher starts talking. I can't take him serious because he has a ponytail and a braided beard. Like I'm all for him having the hair just, for some reason it seems unnatural for it to be all tamed like that. I drop my backpack next to the desk and pull out my book of Creepypastas. I prop my feet up on the desk and start to read one called the rake. The picture is so rad! It's a alien looking thing that is deathly thin and has Freddy Krueger like claws. I hear people writing in their books but I just cross my feet and keep reading. I've always been a fan of horror and I love to read so what better way to spend math class than indulging in some good old spine chilling stories?

(THIS IS MY FIRST CHAPTER THAT HAS BEEN UPDATED. THIS BOOK IS TRASH, BUT I PROMISE IT WILL BLOOM TO SOMETHING AT LEAST A LITTLE BETTER)