Some Scars Won't Heal (On Hold)

2. Loner

2. Loner

My alarm was blaring Five Finger Death Punch, which of course woke me up instantly. Most people call it "angry music", but to me, it's calming. When I'm upset, it helps zone me out from my frustrations.

I smacked the button on my alarm clock to turn it off. Yes, I know I'm oldschool. Groaning, I covered my face with my pillow. It couldn't be morning already. I was far from excited to start school.

"Monica! Breakfast is ready! I suggest you get your butt in gear before it gets cold," my mother shouts from the other room.

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach growled in response. I guess it wouldn't hurt to actually eat something before leaving for school.

I rummaged through my clothes until I found what I was looking for. A grin crossed my lips as I pulled out a black pair of sweatpants and a faded green t-shirt that was a size too big.

After switching into the clothes, I looked in the mirror. No makeup. My dirty blonde hair was in a messy bun on the top of my head. I smiled and grabbed my backpack off from the floor by my bedroom door.

"I thought you were getting ready for school? You haven't even changed out of your pajamas yet," my mom gave me an annoyed look as if I was slowing down her day.

"Why mother, what do you possibly mean? I did change, and I'm all ready. All I have left to do is eat," I couldn't help but feel the sparkle of sarcasm probably showing in my grayish-blue eyes.

The shocked look on her face was priceless, "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am, mother. I am."

I pulled the chair out from the table, resulting in a loud screech. Plopping myself down, I almost drooled looking at the plate of food in front of me. My mother's famous omelet, along with 3 slices of bacon that weren't too crispy, a piece of buttered toast, a bowl of yogurt with banana slices in it, and a glass of orange juice.

My mother had worked at many cafes, restaurants, bakeries, coffee shops, and bars. She chose basically anything that had to do with food or drinks. She was very good with customers and cooking, and had so much experience that she was almost guaranteed the jobs as soon as she applied. Customers raved about her food, but it was rare that I had the chance to eat it myself. Usually she would be working all the time to try to make ends meet, and we would end up with take-out or frozen pizza or ramen noodles.

Another downfall to her never being home is that I didn't learn how to cook anything myself. I was lucky if I could manage to make a pot of mac and cheese without screwing it up. The only food I could attempt was things that had the directions included.

It didn't take me long to scarf down my breakfast, and my stomach thanked me for it. I put my dirty dishes in the sink and stood by the front door to wait for my mother.

"You don't even have Hazel ready yet? Mom, if I get a tardy on my first day, it's going to be your fault."

"Is that any way to thank me?" she replied, smirking and dangling the car keys in the air with her outstretched hand.

I tried to hide my shock. My mother never let me use the car, especially without her in it. She always acted scared of my driving skills, but I think she just gets overly dramatic about it.

"Thanks," I mumbled, and grabbed the keys from her hand.

I walked outside and got into the driver's seat. My mom's car wasn't anything to brag about. It was an older model Ford Taurus and had it's share of rust and dents, but it worked. I could remember the day my mom got it. She was so proud that she had saved up enough to buy it from the local used car dealership. Her excitement quickly faded, though, when Paul had yelled at her and called her every name in the book. He had a vehicle so he said that she had wasted money, but he would never let her use his truck. He would make her walk to work or the store.

The reality was that it was just one less thing that he could use to have power over her. He was the type of guy that needed to be in control of everything.

As I pulled up to the school building, I saw just how small it was compared to other schools had gone to. This building was just a long building that was mainly only one-story tall, except the far part had a second floor, and it held every grade from preschool through senior year. I had never gone to a school that had it all in one building before.

The only separation was different entrances that had big letters above the doors marking the elementary side and the high school side of the building.

I parked as close as I could to the entrance. The less of a walk I had, the sooner I would be on my way out of this place when the last bell would ring.

There was no words to describe how much I dreaded every step I took towards that brick enclosure filled with people that would decide my status in this town. To make matters worse, a smaller town meant everyone would be able to spot someone new the second they laid eyes on me.

I wasn't sure why I was so nervous. I knew how it would go. It was the same everywhere I went, and I thought I had gotten over caring about it a long time ago.

Those heavy doors thumping shut behind me was the sound of no turning back. In front of me was a large open area with hallways darting off from it filled with lockers and students.

Straight across from me were glass doors for the principle's office. I walked inside and a short lady with curly hair and glasses looked up at me from behind her desk.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Urm, I was told to come here for my class schedule and stuff. I'm new here," I mumbled.

"Oh, you must be Monica Frost. I have your papers right here," she grabbed a folder from her desk and opened it up as she handed it to me, "that top page shows a map of the school. I highlighted the classrooms you will be having as well as where your locker is located."

"Thank you," I replied and gave her a little grin.

Studying the map like a compass, I found my way to my locker. There was a group of people leaning against lockers next to mine. There was a strong stench of stale cigarette smoke that clung to their clothing.

"Someone forgot to change out of their pajamas this morning," one of the girls snickered, looking at me.

"And someone forgot that you only need one layer of make-up," I muttered under my breath as I opened my locker.

"What was that?" the girl glared my way.

"Nothing, I just thought raccoons only come out at night," I replied in an innocent tone.

The boys standing next to her burst out in a fit of laughter, but her overly blackened eyes just seemed to narrow even more.

"Stupid bitch better watch her back," the girl tried to sound tough in front of her friends.

That might have been a new record of my fastest made enemy. I should have gave myself a cookie for that.

Throughout my classes of the day, I had discovered that that girl's name was Hannah and she really didn't like me. She was considered part of the 'bad' crowd and had a couple henchmen to make smart ass remarks to me. Whoop-dee-doo.

There were also some "popular" girls that were in my classes. They had the expensive clothing and could do no wrong. They looked utterly disgusted in my choice of wardrobe.

Then there were the "jocks". The guys that played in sports teams and could have girls' panties falling off with a single wink. You know, the ones that spread herpes and crabs around. They didn't even give me a second glance, but I was just fine with that.

The only people that even said hi to me were the fellow geeks and freaks, but even then, they pretty much kept to themselves.

I had thought I would sit by myself at lunch, but there was another boy who decided to join my table. Although, it was basically the same thing as sitting by myself. He didn't say a single word or even look up from his tray once. I had seen him in a few of my classes, and he was the same way during class.

I wasn't sure yet what group he fit in. He dressed in baggy jeans and a white tee with flannel long sleeve over it. He didn't seem to talk to anyone, but everyone seemed to know him. I loved a good mystery.