Being Shot

P h o t o #1 - A Photograph To Start It All

Welcome to my first story on Wattpad! This is officially my first time writing a full length story, and I began this book when I was just 13. Though I have tweaked the rougher parts of the story a bit, the beginning is still a bit rocky and hard to get into. With that being said, I hope you can still enjoy my book and watch as my writing progresses for the better in later chapters. Don't forget to vote and comment your opinions or if you feel there's something I could fix!

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P h o t o #1 - A Photograph To Start It All

Saying that I thought this school was tragically full of idiotic students was a completely humongous understatement.

Currently, after fishing through my emergency pocket-sized Oxford Dictionary during my little study sessions when I had the free-time, which I seemed to have a lot of these days, I still had yet to find a strong enough word that correctly described my female classmates idiocy at that exact moment; as I watched them superficially scratch each other's eyes out. Yet even though I tried everything within my power to steer clear of anything coming close to this dreadful scene - and I was pretty good at it too - somehow I was used to all of this ruckus going on in front of me.

I pushed myself past the dozens of squealing girls, trying with all of my might to get to my locker, seemingly just out of my reach. 'It's like a damn Justin Bieber concert up in the main hallway.' I thought angrily. Just as I finally felt a bit of hope swell in my chest as my eyes landed on my melancholy purple locker, I suddenly felt two hands latch onto my shoulders, long nails digging into my pale skin. I yelped out at the suddenness of a touch filled with animosity directed my way.

"Watch it. We all get our turns to talk to them!" A clearly artificial red-head with unnerving spider-legged eyelashes barked at me as she flung me to the ground, staring down at me like I was some pest she was personally told to get rid of.

I dropped to the unforgiving tiled floor with a loud thud, but the noise was lost in the wave of jumpy questions and excited hand gestures that the girls dished out in the direction opposite of mine. There was so much giggling and yelling going on in the hallway, my bottom hitting the cold floor couldn't be heard over the chaos. Not that anyone would so much as give me a hand to help myself get steady.

I clutched my bag to my chest so it didn't hit the ground with me. As the crowd raged on, only one thought crossed my mind. I knew for a fact that I didn't want my Nikon D3100 to dent, scratch, or god forbid break. Even if it was in its homemade snug compartment at the bottom of my ratty bag, I was still always a bit wary when with it. I had known, somewhere in the back of my head, that it was a bad idea to bring my beloved camera in today, but I was a lost cause when it came to helping myself. I should have remembered that the first day of every year was always like this: rowdy, chaotic, unnecessary. Plus, now that I was going to be late getting home due to this thorn in my side, I wouldn't even be able to take any pictures of the gorgeous, ever-changing scenery that hid behind the school, just out of everyone's line if sight.

I guessed I was so attached to my little sanctuary because it reminded me of my current self.

With a pained sigh, I got up and ran my hand threw my long, black wavy locks, not wanting them to get anymore funny ideas about getting even messier than they already were. I adjusted my glasses on the bridge of my nose and brushed the small dust particles that stuck to my pants off that had clung to me from my tumble. After my little clean-up session, I scraped up whatever determination I had left in my awkwardly lanky 5'6" body. I wasn't going to give up without a fight! Ok, well, maybe not when I had nowhere near enough guts to even fight a fifth grader...

I shook my head realizing that my thoughts were getting off topic already. With a huge breath, I charged into the crowd head first. I couldn't just back down, I really did have to get home. It was a Wednesday, and that meant I couldn't "dilly-dally around" as my grandmother would say. To my surprise, I actually made it to my locker.