The Sisters' Bad Boys (TGGBB FANFIC)

Chapter One: I Don't Need Your Pity!

        I hurried through the crowd of people at my new school, Dartwell High.

        A few days as pasted sense I first transferred here.

        And it wasn't easy-going.

        I had to push and shove others out of my way to try and find my locker while also trying to be invisible; I couldn't help it, they were shoving me, too. My plan was working out just fine when someone decided it was a good idea to stick their foot out and trip me.

        As usual.

        I uttered a yelp as I crashed down head first onto the hard, cold floor landing on my stomach. Thunk, thunk, thud, swissh. Well, there goes my books. Maybe I should avoid carrying a stack of books while switching from class to class. When more people past by, some would 'accidentally' kick me. I tried to get up on all fours, crawling like a little child, to gather up my books. Just to have them kicked farther away from me.

        I frown as I still desperately tried to reach my innocent library books. What did we ever do to you?! Soon after many, many attempts I was finally able to gather up all of my books. Wait let me rephrase that. Soon after many, many attempts I was finally able to gather up about 4/5 of my books 'cause one of them was still laying open on the floor.

        I tried to stand up and—again—tried to push through the crowd and towards the book to save it. I reached down to pick it up when another hand reached down and tried to do the same. Haha too bad sucker, I've beaten you to it.

        I quickly grabbed it before the person had a chance to. I then hugged my books to my chest protectively, straighten my posture and soon met the eyes of a girl; a girl my age.

        She was wearing thick rimmed glasses that sort of hid her brown eyes. She has brown hair that was tied up in a messy bun. She has tannish skin and a nice smile—nice smile? When did anyone besides from my family look at me with a nice smile? I mean, truth be told, some of my peers had sneaked me quick smiles here and there. She seems to have flinched at the cold glare I was giving her, but not too soon later did her smile reappeared. Not in sheepish a way though, a confident and assuring smile.

        "Hey, I'm Naomi, but you must've already heard of me," she greeted me.

        "Name's Ashley," I mumbled a reply. We stared at one another for a few awkward moments before we had had enough of the crowd, so we just moved to another place—near my locker.

        After I took somethings out and chucked some things in my locker and bag, I finally slammed it close with a loud, satisfying bang. 

        But guess what, just my luck.

        It turns out that her locker was just a few lockers away from mine.

        Now we're back to the awkward staring. "I—I'm sorry," she apologized suddenly. That took me by surprise. Why in the world is she apologizing to me? Why would anyone, out of everyone else, say sorry to me? She shouldn't be the one who's sorry.

        I seem to recognize her in the audience of students when I would get bullied. She didn't clap. She didn't look entertained. She didn't chant along. She practically had steam flowing out of her nostrils. She looked mad, very angry. As if she's the one who's the center of attention. And I would usually see her with her small group of guy friends.