A few days later I had to start school. Damn. On the way, Trisha was rambling on and on about the dinner my dad. I let out a huge huff and stared out the window as the trees passed by.
When we arrived there, Trisha slammed her flip phone shut and turned to me.
"August, I want you to behave in school, alright?"
I rolled my eyes. Why was she treating me like a four year old?! "Yeah, ok, Trisha."
She gawked as I climbed out her 2014 Ford Fusion. The school was crawling with rich kids. The teachers were strict, and the girls were filled with gossip. Literally. Apparently some girl named Chyna got the new Coach bag.
I heard a scrawny yelp across the room. I snapped my head towards the Sound. Some skinny kid had been thrown against the wall by one of football players. His glasses smashed against the bookcase and he spent five minutes scrambling around the ground for them. The other football players laughed loud and pointed towards the poor kid.
The one who threw him was dumb as rocks, and had a goofy laugh with shiny blonde hair. I stood up and got in his face. "What's your problem?! Don't be an ass!" I shouted. His face went straight and he leaned over me. I suddenly felt weak. "Shuddup, punk!" He shouted back. Then things went black.
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