Sadie.

Chapter 3

3

I slump into the chair across from Penny, a dejected sigh escaping my lips. She glances up from her sketchpad with a raised brow.

"Didn't go well?" She asks. I rest a cheek on my hand and shake my head.

"Not even close." I mutter. She shrugs and slips her art things into a black bag. "What were you even talking to him about, anyway?"

"I needed a favor," I say vaguely.

"Well, I'm surprised you got as far as you did. Sam hardly ever talks to people when he's alone." I perk up at Penny's words. She looks honest, not one of those people who just says things to make you feel better.

"You mean he's not always alone?" I ask, leaning across the table. She looks amused and gestures to the people around us.

"He's like the most popular guy at this school, just not very approachable." Penny shrugs again and smiles. I gnaw on my lip and ponder her words. This kind of throws a rut in my plan.

"Do you know where I could find him after school?" I ask. Penny pulls out a tuna fish sandwhich from her bag and sighs.

"Well, I know he hangs out with his gang behind the boat house at the peer," She says and takes a bite of her lunch. "But it's kind of a sketchy area." Her words are muffled by food. I feel my eyes widen at her words.

"Gang?" I repeat with a gulp.

"Yeah, but don't worry. They don't really do anything." She mumbles, stuffing more tuna into her mouth. I take a trembling breath. 'Don't really do anything', huh? Sounds promising.

After another few hours of grueling classes, I'm finally free. Well, physically I'm free. Mentally; not so much.

The first couple of stares started around the end of lunch as everyone went as slowly as possible to fourth period. They were brief questioning glances that steadily built into full out glares and shoulder shoves. And so it begins

 Thoughts of the torment that is sure to come plague my mind as I walk home. I can't believe it started this fast, I haven’t even done anything especially weird yet.

I shake my head clear of stressful thoughts and instead keep my eyes pealed. Being in a small town, I assume it's hard to miss this 'boat house'. I don't particularly remember the layout since I lived here. Everything changes within a decade, even this tiny ass place. There's even a star bucks.

As I near the outskirts of town I stop. If I continue forward another three miles, I'll be safe at home. If I turn around and roam around town maybe I'll find this 'boat house' that could quite possibly be my doom.

I turn around.

Lots of students are already clustered in front of small shops or rushing to meet each other. The summer sun beats down on us like a freaking SunnyD commercial and I begin to regret my choice of attire. As much as I love my Batman jumper, it's hot as hell.

Wondering aimlessly through a town filled with people who will eventually grow to hate me is not as fun as it sounds. Even out of school the glares are starting, mostly from the female portion oddly enough, but glares nonetheless. I wrack my brain for something that I did to deserve this already, but come up empty-handed.

Oh well, I think. Just means I need to work faster if I want to avoid homecoming punch on my head again.

After finding the boardwalk, I assume the boathouse can't be far. My feet carry me quickly down the right side (the direction I picked randomly) and salty wind tugs at my hair. I've never liked the sea much. Memories I'd rather not remember seem to always come flooding back with smells of seaweed and decaying fish. That and beaches make me sandy. Which I hate.

Shaking my head to clear away stomach-turning thoughts, I hurry my pace. There’s a building in the distance. Preferably a boathouse.

I pray this will work. I'm so, so tired of the constant humiliation and hurt that comes from being unaccepted. I'm tired of always being alone, physically and mentally. And I'm tired of being me.

I'd tried my hardest to put on a mask today, for Penny mostly. It was my brave mask. The one that did things I would generally think unfathomable. But then, after the deed was done, I'd have mini breakdowns. This one just happened to occur as I prepared to do yet another unspeakable act.

With a trembling breath I give an inner pep talk, ordering the brain to work like a normal persons, preparing my tongue to move with out fumbling words, etcetera.

The boathouse is clearly in view now. It's was probably a dark burgundy at one point, but now it’s sort of a brown color, flakes of gray peering out from under the old paint. The roof is sagged in the middle, moss coating it in a green blanket and a decrepit sign dangles precariously from the edge. It once read 'West Point Boat House' but now all that is left is slightly lighter area's where the letters once lay and a big, lopsided 'W'. Charming.

I slow my walk once I'm close enough to decipher the profanity scrawled across its sides in white spray paint. I can hear voices, laughing and talking in that loud way boys have when they get excited.

Tip toeing; I peer around the furthest corner, spotting the band of hooting gentleman. The majority of them have their shirts of, uncomfortably enough, but a few are adorned in grease smudged wife beaters, saggy jeans cover each and every one of their bottoms though. How silly.

They're all making crazy arm movements, looking a bit like gorillas. I lean forward to try and get a better look, but my toe hits one of the many bricks lying around and I stumble forward, kicking up gravel and whacking my elbow against the drain pipe. Ow.

Six pairs of eyes turn on me, hands frozen in midair, mouths turning into sneers. I straighten up, rubbing my nose frantically.

"Uh...hi." I squeak.

In one swift movement, they are upon me. I make some sort of gurgling sound as I writhe against the hands gripping my shoulders.

"Well, well," One of them says, tilting my chin up. He's shirtless, unfortunately, with a head of vibrant red hair. "Looks like we've got some entertainment, boys." They all cackle with laughter, jostling me around slightly. I gulp and pull against my human braces. He grabs my chin more tightly and runs something cold across my cheek. A knife, I assume. My body trembles and I beat myself up inside for being so stupid. Why did I think this was a good idea?

"Let her go." The boys freeze. I crane my neck to see behind Mr. Redhead and feel my eyes widen. "I said; Let. Her. Go." Sam.

 A/N: BOO. This chapter sucked, I know. Sorry. >.< Words were not oming. oh well. Ok this time I WILL try to post sooner!

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