It's a Thursday.
I'm so close to surviving another week.
I smile at the thought of surviving another week, and hanging out with the few friends I had, and making more memories to last me yet another week.
I go to my first period class...Gym. I wasn't always very good at exercise and such, but I had passion. I had always wanted to join the basketball team and try my best to show the people who had never believed in me that I had a real shot at making something out of myself.
Of course...those odds of me making something out of myself were very slim, now.
I had to go out of town with my family for a week. I asked all my teachers for the makeup work, but one of the only two teachers who had given me work, gave me a worksheet and told me he would talk to me after school about what I needed to do and how I needed to do it. I swung by after school hours, and sure enough, he wasn't there. I was leaving that night, so I didn't have any other options aside from not doing it. I came back after one week out of town, and he told me that it was easy to do. I wish he'd told me that before! But he said it was fine, I could make it up in class. I thought that was okay, because I had work from other classes, too, so I thought that I could just work on everything one thing at a time, even though I was overwhelmed, I felt I could get it done in a short amount of time.
I was wrong.
As I tried my best to make up all of that work, all of my teachers just assigned more and more. I barely made a dent, two months later, which is right now.
So...by now. I can't sign up, and everyone who ever said that I wasn't going to make the team and make something out of myself was right. Besides, I could've tried out, it wasn't likely that I was going to make the team, anyways. I was passionate, sure, with quite a bit of skill, but there were far better candidates for the team.
I sigh and swing open my gym locker, getting changed.
In the main gym, I stand with my favorite eighth grader, Fern, as all of the other students await the arrival of their teachers. Fern was about one year older than me, with olive brown skin, black hair which was dyed somewhere along the lines of rose gold, and dark eyes. She was really pretty, with a sugar sweet personality to match, but a feisty attitude.
"Ugh, I can't stand them." Fern groans, and I look over her shoulder to see a popular eighth grader from our gym and art class. She was tall, with long hair and brown eyes. Olivia, Anna and Lupita were all eighth graders, who thought themselves the smartest and most beautiful girls in the world. And they sure loved to twerk. We only had Olivia in our gym period, which was great. One of them was enough. Although, they could break off into small groups and still gather other lackeys. It was annoying.
"She...disgusts me." I utter, glaring at her. I look around at the other groups in the main gym with us. Thankfully, all of the students who had gym first period had to be in this gym, so I could see who was doing what. There were three groups. One's, the inexperienced players who weren't as good as the others, the two's, who were good, but not amazing, and finally, the three's, who were the best of all. I spot a tall, lanky, pale student, who I wish I hadn't seen. "It's Donovan Pierce." I growl. Fern glances over at him. "Who?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Donovan Pierce, he found...a love letter I wrote to Aven. It had information about my...abuse in there. He read it to my whole third period class, and made me cry." I whisper. Fern glares at him. "I want to snap his neck." She hisses. I smile, my lips closed. She always made me smile when she wanted to defend me.
The teachers all make the students gather into their three groups, and I go with Fern to group two. Donovan Pierce is a two, as well, but group two is divided into three groups again, and each of the students in those groups took turns playing three-on-three. Luckily, Donovan isn't in my group and I get to play in three-on-three with Fern. The teacher, Ms. Shorthouse, swaps some groups around, and I chat with Fern until she comes over to our group, swapping some of us around with other groups. I listen just in time to hear her say:
"Donovan Pierce, you're in this group."
I stare at her in disbelief.
"Are you serious?" I growl to myself. Fern laughs a little, then pats me on the back. "At least you don't have to play with him." She says, and I nod.
"Numbers...one through six, you're playing." Ms. Shorthouse calls. I frown with regret at choosing four as my number. I get up, as does Fern, and we play one game. Fern, me and the other kid, whose name I didn't know, were a strong team together, but the other team was simply better. America was on the opposing team, and she had a friend of her's, Octavia, with her. We lost, and I went to sit back down with Fern. "Madisyn!" One of Olivia's lackeys, who was in charge of who played and who didn't, hollers at me. I look at her, trying my best not to run over to her and strangle her. "You're playing again, on the jersey side." She points out to the court, and I study whose on my team. A friend of America's, who I've only talked to a few times, and Donovan Pierce. I look back at Olivia's lackey. "Do I have to?" I scowl. "Go, now." She hisses at me, and I hate myself a little more.
Willingly, I play with Donovan, seeing Fern snicker from the sidelines. Surprisingly, Donovan and I don't do that bad on teamwork. I wouldn't like to play against him, though.
The rest of the day goes normally, and I go home, do my homework.
Tomorrow's Friday...
Just one more day...
