Their pathetic. Dull, fake, liers, users, and mean. There's about five girls and seven boys. Boys, they all play foot ball. Girls, all cheerleaders for the football team. They all follow the trends. I however--I'm not one for the trends. I wear this long sleeve black lace Victorian style jacket. A pair of black jeans. A fake blood necklace. The whole popular crowd goes haywire. They think I'm like poison cause I sing "The Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy through the hallway every day and my opinions are a little different. I'm poison. I really don't know what makes them think I'm so strange.
So I bet you're itching to know what went down that September Tuesday at 10:41. My opinion they both deserved it. This one boy, Ean--real punk, comes up to me and says, "Speak boy, speak." Like I'm some dog. This chick comes up Cassy, real fake, and says, "You wanna treat boy." Ean was her boyfriend, I latter found out. Back to my point--I punched her, the he punched me, and I busted his nose. The gidance counselor pull me away told me grab my things and I was in big trouble. I looked over my shoulder and saw him bleeding. I ducked under her arm and ran back, hot as close as I could, looked strait at him and said, "SPEAK BOY, SPEAK!" The whole cafeteria went silent. I'd never spoke in front of these people, or that loud. His eye widened at my voice. He spat blood and said, "roof."
