Change Is Good For the Heart

I haven't written on here in the longest time and I apologize for that. And as most have you have realized, BFWB, LAY, and my other stories are now private. I hate that some of you haven't read it, but its like this because I'm going to end up publishing them at some point..i'll keep you updated as to when.

Anyways, this is a new story that I thought up awhile back. So I thought I would share it with y'all since I took BFWB and LAY from your possession.

Its not too long, but I hope it works.

Don't forget: comment, like, lemme know what you think!

Thanks so much guys. I love you all.

-Angela

~~~~~~~~~~~

Every first day I start at a new school is just like the last. All of the teachers make it a point to address me to the entire class that I walk into and they all take that time to stare at me, their eyes picking every piece of me apart and deciding if I belong to their crowd or not.

          “Class, this is our new student, Raven Gray. She just moved here from Maine so I hope you all give her a warm welcome,” the teacher- of which I already forgot her name- said to yet another class I had just walked into on this gloomy, rainy day in the small town of Mossyrock, Washington.

          Slowly I found my way to the back of the room, sitting my notebooks on the vacant table in the back as I heard the murmur of the other people in the class, the subject of present being me.

          “Do you think her eyes are really that pale gray or do you think they’re contacts?” some Blonde Bimbo in front of me whispered to her Ginger Gertrude friend.

          “I bet they’re contacts. And look at her hair; no way that it’s naturally that dark brown,” Ginger answered.

          I rolled my eyes, leaning towards them. “All of me is real, unlike the two of you,” I whispered in their ears, earning open-mouthed scoffs from the duo. I smiled in victory, a few of the others in the class smirking in my direction.

          Leaning back in my seat I finally pinned my attention to the teacher whom was going on about the early writing structure of poems. I had already learned this back in Maine so setting down my pen I looked around towards the windows on my right. The rain was pattering on the pavement, the clouds growing into a dark gray. I let my thoughts go at that point; thinking about how much my life had changed.

          My dad had left when I was eight, leaving my mother to work three jobs at once to keep us afloat and to keep me in school. Once I had grown of age to take care of myself, my mother started to date. For as long as I can remember there was a different guy almost every other week and with each of those relationships ending my mother would decide to pack us up and pick a new state to live in, only to allow the same mistake to happen again.

          That’s how I ended up in Mossyrock.

          Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but sometimes she’s too much to handle. I had begged her this time, though, to let me finish my senior year here. I was tired of moving all the time; sometimes change is too much.

          I jumped, my reverie washed away as I heard the ringing of the bell signaling lunch, the worst part about the first day. I took my time walking to my locker, a bit of nerves swirling in my belly. Lunch is the only part of the day that worries me, ever.

          Make me run in gym? Sure, I’m fine with that.

          Have me speak in front of a new set of peers? Yeah, sure.