Chapter Five

129 5 2
                                    

"Miss Reyes, I realize that you are new, but that is no excuse.." mumbled my advisory teacher. When he looked away I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot impatiently, ready to either recieve my punishment or go to class. "Now, will you please explain to me why you are late?" he growled, eyeing the fresh cut on my lip. I cursed under my breath for forgetting to clean it up. 

"Ummm.." I tried to think of a good excuse in my head, but nothing believable came up. "I- uh ran into some thugs..?" 

Don't judge me, that was the best I could think of. And it wasn't entirely a lie, those stoners were very thug-like actually. 

"Thugs..?" Mr. Henderson laughed. "Yeah, okay. Just get to class before you miss it entirely." I nodded and made my way down the hall, searching for room 503, my first period class with Ms. Baker. I spotted a bathroom on the way and decided to quickly clean up my cut. As I walked in, I noticed two girls in front of the mirrors, chatting and fixing their hair. I ignored them and pulled out a paper towel, dampening it with a little bit of water. I flinched a little when it touched my cut, but it didn't matter because it didn't seem to plan on seizing the bleeding any time soon. 

"Damn.." I said, clenching my teeth as I cleaned the cut. I forgot that I wasn't alone and turned to see the two girls staring at me like they had never seen blood before. One of the two approached me, scrutinizing me from head to toe like some kind of foreign object. They looked like your typical "popular girls" that you would find at every high school.

Great, it's my first day and Im already leaving a bad impression. 

"Are you new here?" said the girl. She looked at my lip with disgust and waited for my reply. 

"Yeah." I quickly threw my paper towel in the trash, hurrying to get to class without any hair being pulled out or broken finger nails. "I have to get to class, sorry." 

I sighed and continued searching for room 503 until I finally found a red door with three black engraved numbers on them. 503. I turned the handle and took a deep breath as I stepped in the room. All eyes were on me as I fidgeted uncomfortably under their gazes.

The teacher, who I assumed was Ms. Baker put on a fake smile and walked towards me. "You must be Genevieve." Whispers filled the classroom which caused my bad habit to surface. I tapped my foot nervously like I always did and nodded. "Why are you late?" she asked like every one else for the fifty billionth time. I didn't realize when I let out a sigh as well as my thoughts. 

"For the fifteenth fucking time I-" I quickly covered my mouth and apologized, not meaning to speak my thoughts. The teacher scoffed and pointed at my seat. Shuffling past the mass of students, I took a seat in the very back. Ms. Baker continued her lesson, not bothering to tell me what we were even learning about. 

"Hey, what happened to your face?" said someone next to me. I turned to see a boy with curly blonde hair with sunkissed skin and freckles peering at my lip curiously. Several people around him looked at me, probably wondering the same thing. 

"Did you get intoa fight? Or wrestle a bear? Or.." I interrupted him as politely as possible, trying to shut him up as fast as I could. 

"Pot heads." I said, truthfully. The boy turned back around to face the board, as everyone did, clearly showing their dissapointment. 

"We prefer the term Bag Boys." someone else whispered. I didn't bother to look at them, but quickly answered. 

"So you sell and smoke, huh? Wow, so original." I scoffed. 

"Yeah I guess you could say that," he said, tapping on my shoulder. I peered back at him to see the last person I expected. Christian.

"But we really hate being called Pot Heads."

Gulp.

Merry Christmas! :)

Hello, Chicago. (ON HOLD- RECONSTRUCTION)Where stories live. Discover now