Learning To Fall

one

"Tate, enough of that. You're going to be late, and you don't wanna be late on your first day," I look up as Rachel, my manager and closest thing to a best friend, tells me. I look back down at the dishes I was washing, and shake my head.

"If these aren't done, she'll kill me," I say, wiping my hands on the towel in front of me.

"Over my dead body. Now go, kid. Learn!" Rachel says, grabbing my shoulders and causing me to look up at her. "I'll take care of the dishes, go to school."

"Fine," I sigh, placing my towel down and taking off the apron that displays my nametag. I could get extra money by working before school, whether my step-monster who ran the diner liked it or not. I grabbed my bookbag and headphones from the corner before Rachel stopped me in my tracks.

"Did you brush your teeth today? Put on deodorant?" She asks, and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, mom," I mock, and she shakes her head. In reality, Rachel was as close it could ever come to an older sister for me. I make it out of the door before she comes back with an equally smart comment.

And this is how my day starts every weekday.

>>

With a sigh, I looked down at my schedule for the first semester. After this year, it'd just be one year before I get out of this hellhole. But, junior year couldn't go by fast enough.

By now, I'd gotten used to the useless drama of high school. Haley likes John, but John is a player who slept with Haley's best friend Nora. It's the same storyline every year, but with different people and different circumstances. I pity them, actually. But then again, I wonder if they pity me. The girl who has no friends, and only relies on herself and her teachers. The girl who got screwed over by someone she believed to be a close friend.

Speak of the devil, and you shall receive. Cecily Smith, the wannabe Regina George, makes eye contact with me in the hallway to first period. Black hair, skinny, perfect skin, and a whole group of friends. She was what every young girl dreamed about being once they became a teenager. Hell, she was my best friend for two years. Or so I thought.

I shake that thought from my mind as I walk into first period, AP English. That's right, not only was I earning money, but your girl here was smart. Well, when it came to literature and anything involving science.

I don't pay attention until my name gets called for attendance.
"Is it Tate or Rogers, Andy?" Ms. Monroe asks.

"Tate." I immediately reply. It's always been Tate, and it will be no matter how many step-monsters with fake boobs and glimmering eyes come in and steal my dad away from me. But then again, there wasn't much to steal.

I drown out the rest of the class because all that was going on was the first day speech that every teacher that teaches AP gives. The usual "this class isn't like normal classes, it's harder" speech. The speech about how you can put in so much hard work and determination and still fail a project. But, in reality, Ms.Monroe was a sweetheart who would do anything to help a student pass as long as they put in the work. This speech was a scare tactic, and it wouldn't work on me. She's not even ten minutes into her speech before someone walks in late. Seriously, what kind of person was late on the first day?

The door opens, and in comes a boy with pale skin and bleach blonde hair. And damn, he could walk in late every day if it meant I had an excuse to look at him.

"Name?" The auburn haired teacher questions, and he smiles sheepishly and messes up the back of his hair.

"Michael Clifford," He responds with a thick Australian accent. Monroe checks off her attendance before looking at him.

"Find your seat, Michael. Don't make this a habit." She states coldly, and he nods before heading down my row. My heart races when I realize he's going for the empty seat in front of me. Shit. It's too late to move my bag into the desk in front of me, he's already sat down and gotten comfortable. I slump back in my seat, praying that this period would go by slowly.

>>

"Do you think Joey would want to go to homecoming together?" Is all I hear before I put my headphones in and make my way towards the lunch room. Pizza was calling my name.

As I walk, I think about how I'm gonna get the reading done for Government and still have time to work. Maybe I could do it during lunch, I had nothing better to do anyways. Yeah, getting it done during lunch would be smart, I think as I sit down at my usual table in the back by the windows. With a small sigh, I open my bookbag to pull out a plastic bag full of left over pizza. Thank you, Rachel.

I'm halfway finished with the reading when I feel someone sit across from me. Probably some freshman. I look up to see a guy with dark hair, and brown skin. I recognize him as Calum, an old friend before shit hit the fan. Realizing I still had my headphones in, I take them out.

"Hey," He greets as he opens his water. I raise an eyebrow in reply.

"Hey Cal," I respond, shocking myself with the nickname. The corners of his mouth twitch up, but the next second they were back to the straight line they were usually in. "No offense, but why are you sitting here?" I ask.

"Getting right to the point, huh?" Calum laughs. I feel myself smile a little, and I nod in reply.

"Well, tell me," I encourage, and he holds up his hands in defense. The dark boy takes a drink of water before answering.

"After what happened, I thought you hated everyone at this God awful school. I mean, I wouldn't blame you. But you just stopped talking to everyone, so I just assumed that you hated me. Once again, I wouldn't blame you, especially after Cecily-" He says, but I cut him off.

"Calum, I didn't hate you. I don't hate you." I inform him, and he smiles, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

"Well that's good, because I'm sitting here again this year," Cal says, and I smile. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad.