Breaking Through

The Young and the Restless

Hi! My name is Annabeth Drew. People normally call me Annie, but I seem to have earned the nickname Nancy Drew. I have a strange tendency to find myself in all sorts of mischief, most of which is by complete accident. However, very much unlike Miss Nancy, I have no friends. This means that the aforementioned "people" are actually my relatives.
Also, if you haven't picked up on it already, this is my first official documented history (autobiography). Most people would say that this is a journal, but I feel that journals are restricted to times, days, and feelings. By calling this a document, I feel less inclined to blabber on about how being a teenage girl is hard, or how certain people are cute, or how so-and-so did this or that. So, it's a document. I guess I could start my documentation by describing the subject (me). I have long black hair, about three-fourths of the way down my back. My eyes are hazel, which, although it is not clinically correct to say so, is true because my eyes change from shades of green, blue, and brown. I am quite tall, standing at 5'11" bare-foot. My smooth olive complexion is dotted with a few freckles here and there, and my slim figure leaves me looking like a bean stalk that someone forgot to water. Excuse the analogy, but I personally find very little that is attractive about myself.

Now that the introductory is over, I shall start with the most recent events.

...........
I woke up to my computer dinging at me. There was a notification about a party tonight. I have a strange quirk in which I run constant scans through the internet profiles of my fellow classmates, only for interesting things of course. I monitor a few people on a daily basis, ones that I like to call the Select. I like to read through their conversations and screenshot particularly scandalous areas. I used to not be like this. I mean, I've always been good with technology, but I didn't use it like this.

It all started freshman year. I was the new kid. I just moved up north to Michigan with my Dad and his new wife. I had been living with my Mom and my brothers down in Grande Isle. We all decided that, with my obsession with technology and the constant flooding down there, it was best for me to move. But coming from the South, an area where Northerners think is completely illiterate and uneducated, I was bullied. For the majority of freshman year I came home crying with purple areas scattered across my body. It wasn't until one of the cheerleaders got into trouble at the school because someone had posted pictures of her naked on all of the bulletin boards that I realized what I had to do. The only way for people to leave me alone was for me to humiliate them. People began to figure out what was happening when they would hit me and then next day their darkest secrets would flash on all of the computer screens, televisions, and monitors school-wide. I've never been caught. The firewalls and nested loops and switches I have in place bait anyone who tries to figure it out. Even if they did get close enough to my approximate location, I have a kill switch embedded in the coding. I have plenty of back up drives hidden for such a scenario. But I doubt it'll even happen.
I lazily stretched and looked at the notification. The Hole at 8:30. I smiled. The usual. I'd probably get enough dirt to last the rest of the month. Nimbly, I crawled out of my dome, turning off my home-made security systems. My dome, or bat cave as liked to call it, was originally a dome jungle-gym. It was converted with one-way tempered-glass, filling the spaces between the bars with only one opening, motion sensors surrounding the one hole, and an electric system that either shot the intruder with a tazer or generated an electric shock for whoever touched the dome. There was a light system, of course, set up inside (I prefer lots of Christmas lights) and my technology filled the spaces not occupied by my bed.
My step-sister called me a freak and was one of the ones that originally tormented me, but she knew the consequences of messing with me now. She generally complied with anything I said, even though she was now graduated and I was still a senior.

I waltzed into the bathroom to pee, ignoring the petite blonde that was Miranda. She was fixing her makeup and her hair. She wrinkled her nose at me but said nothing as she re-adjusted her almost see-though shirt to show more of her almost non-existent cleavage and pulled up her too short shorts so that her ass was basically falling out before proceeding to leave me in peace. I showered and got ready for school in my Punisher shirt, red tights, and a messy bun. Grabbing my bag on the way out the door, Melvin, the butler, handed me my skateboard with a smile. I threw on my shades and adjusted my headphones before throwing the board underneath me. I waved to Melvin as I raced down the drive and on to school.

School was the same. Desperation seeping from the pores of everyone there. Some were desperate to make an A, others to simply pass, and still others to "get it in" before the next class. There were the nerds, huddled in their own section. Then there were all the jocks and cheerleaders, loud and pathetic as always. The gamers had their little circle, the music kids acted like life was a glee episode, and then the passer-bys were generally either finding their group or getting to and from their locker.

I cruised past them all, knowing that most of them had something to say about me. Freak. Evil. Devil. Demon. Retard. Whispers clung to the walls, echoing long after they had been said. Turning the corners and racing past the teachers that occasionally tried to stop me from boarding inside, I let myself be calm.

I kicked my board up when I got to my locker and I shoved everything in there. I heard someone clear their throat, so I curiously peered around the door. It was Ralph, no no no.. Ron?... The point is that he was one of the defensive linebackers on the football team. His buddies were a few feet behind, snickering. I rolled my eyes, knowing the trick that they were probably going to pull. I knew that my punisher shirt, red leggings, and thigh-high converses weren't meant to be part of their social convention. I let them try anyway.

"So?" I said as I shifted my weight to one foot and put a hand on the hip that jutted out.

"Oh... Um... So the guys and I were... I mean, I was..." He stuttered out, glancing at the others.

He sighed and went back to them, but then stopped halfway and hurried back.

"Do you want to go to the party tonight or what?" He rushed out, a little louder than he intended.

Eyes turned and I laughed. I laughed so hard I started to cry.

"When I say this,.. I mean every offense possible... Go fuck yourself." I finally managed to get out between laughs.

Shutting my locker, I turned away from them, walking away, hearing the shouts and curses that echoed down the hall.

The rest of the day put me on edge. I really should've been nicer to him, but no one has ever given me a reason to be. The extra whispers, the extra stares, and the prolonged silence of when I walked into the room really started to mess with my anxiety. My foot tapped, my leg shook, my fingers twitched, my pen clicked. So, I doodled. I ignored everything and set to work decorating my arms with art. The day began to fly by and I was grateful. The only time I was bothered was in math. It was the last class and apparently the teacher didn't appreciate my sleeping in it.

"Annabeth." I heard my name trudge through my peaceful slumber.

I cracked an eye open to see Mr. Adams sitting on my desk. If I had been any other girl, I probably would've sat up straight and tried desperately to please him. He was a younger man, freshly out of college. Instead, I leaned my head back into its original position and tried once again to get comfortable.

"Annabeth. Either you can tell me one potential use for a logarithmic equation or I can give you after school detention for sleeping in my class."

I groaned.

"One use for a logarithmic equation is for marketers and companies to predict future trends and profits." I mumbled out.

"As much as I appreciate your abundance of enthusiasm and you ability to retain information, try to get some sleep before entering my class next time, hmm?"

I heard him move from my desk, walking past. He patted my shoulder fleetingly and I scowled. He continued on his way, probably not thinking that most of his students were only in his class in hopes of private tutoring. I somehow managed to fall asleep again, only to be woken by someone kicking my bag across the room on their way out. I heard my many keychain a and buttons jingle as the bag hit the wall. I huffed and sat up. I stretched as I stood, meandering over to the wall. Mr. Adams was at the door giving me a sad smile.

"Terrible aren't they? Especially at this age. So young and restless."

I continued to ignore him as I dusted off my bag and adjusted it on my shoulders. I was slowly cruising down the hall when he said my name again. I stopped.

"Most of them will be working for a burger joint, in jail, or dead before you make it out of college, but you know that, don't you?"

It was odd for a teacher to seem so pessimistic about his students' futures. It wasn't right. Something that he said really hit me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I did know. But maybe it was because of what he said about them dying... He couldn't possibly know that for sure..

Maybe he is still just young and restless.