Paw Prints

Chapter One: Welcome to Shitville

When you wake up to your name being screamed from downstairs, it makes you wanna bitch slap whoever woke you. Of course, if I slapped my older brother I'd get the shit beaten out of me.

I just stared at the ceiling until Hunter marched his way into my room, still hollering. "Logan, hurry up. Mom's leaving and she's taking the truck today."

"Okay, let me get dressed." As I got dressed I couldn't help thinking about things. Listen, even in Shitville we were one of the poorest people. We had one old rusty 1900's truck and a farm out back. It sounded like an old Disney movie about cowgirls but it was true. Sadly.

I hurried down the stairs just in time to rip my plate from Hunter's hands. I glared as I ate, Hunter chuckling. It was my second year in Highschool and of course Hunter was in his last year, so I got shoved into lockers constantly. No joke. One time it took a day for the janitor to find me.

I put my plate in the sink before grabbing my bag. I ran outside in hopes of getting in the front. And victory was mine. Just as I closed the door to the passenger seat, Hunter walked outside. When he realized he was in the back he gave me a death glare and sat down.

Our mother started the car and drove. My mother literally relied on our farm, working from 8:00 AM to 9:00 PM every day.  When I didn't work, I was tending to the cattle, or keeping the foxes away, or walking the horses. I felt sorry for her. She wore a pair of ripped jeans and a white shirt, stained with mud.

It took us about 15 minutes to get to the school. Our mother said goodbye, we got out, and she drove off. With my bag over my shoulder, I walked in.

***

"And that, class, is why you never should eat fried food."  Everyone was silent, staring.

Mr Jackson was the health teacher. He went over board in trying to get kids to not eat  "things that are bad to your bodies" when literally only a few rich kids had access to fried things.

I sat with my best friend Kip. His name wasn't actually Kip, I just called him that, because Benjamin was too formal. He was one of the rich kids. How ironic. A poor kid and a rich kid. Cue the fucking Disney sing-alongs.

Kip grinned a little, turning to me. "Why'd you force me to take this class with you?"  He was a little chubby, with blonde hair. Myself on the other hand, looked like a drug dealer. I was one of the many Hispanic males in this school with tattoos and muscles. I wasn't in a gang, but I'd thought about it more than once.

I shrugged, "It's not a bad thing. If you lay off the fried foods, when zombies come, they're gonna eat the fat people first." 

Kip slapped my arm, "Shut up."

***

Gym. My favorite class. Just kidding. The locker rooms were hell. Hell, I say. There'd always be that one fuckboy with hickeys and scratch marks. Ew.

I was a bit taller than most people, at 6 foot. Kip was 5'11 and I always picked on him. Shorty.

Anyway, back to the locker rooms. As I got dressed, I could hear him bragging about it. I'm too innocent to actually say it, but hopefully not for much longer. If you get what I'm saying.

Kip was snickering, me trying to ignore it. God. People are so nasty. I grabbed Kip and dragged him out the locker room, into the gym. The gym was the only good building in the school. Air conditioning, big space, but that was ruined by it's purpose.

We headed to our little group. It was me, Kip, Jake, and Haylee. Jake was like the uptime stereotype white guy. Starbucks, slightly douchebaggy, and dressy clothes. (A.N. Don't get offended. It's a joke. ~ Leo) He had dyed black hair and the palest skin I'd ever seen.

Haylee was stunning on the other hand. She was mixed with long, curly brown hair. She always had it back in a bun. I wouldn't be surprised if she had a fan club. Her eyes were light brown, kinda like melted chocolate.

"We've gotta run a mile today." Jake whined, his eyes making that weird ass pouty thing. Jake loved complaining. I had no problem with running. I grew up running. Kip hated running, on the other hand. One time he faked throwing up so he didn't have to. Poor kid.

Haylee shrugged, "I can beat all of you, so kiss my ass."

She was always like that. Always.

We did our stretches before the coaches herded us to the track. About 50 students were in our gym class, so we had to squeeze in the back of the line.

Coach Rogers was that one coach that acted like he all of us did drugs and had sex in the bathroom. He leaned on the fence that surrounded the track. "Four laps, 12 minutes. Go." He started his stop watch as the class lurched forward.

***
I finished in 8 minutes. Haylee was in front of me by a few seconds. Jake was helping Kip stay motivated, towards the other end of the track. Kip was lagging behind and I just wanted to help, but Coach Rogers would probably have a hissy fit. Slowly, over the next 4 minutes, people finished. Even Kip. Thankfully.

Coach Bitch Fit -- I mean Coach Rogers -- sent us to get dressed, and I helped Kip along. "Maybe you should start running the long ways and walking the short ways. It can help."

Kip snorted, "Easier said than done. Not everyone is a horse by spirit."

I smirked a little bit, walking into the Hell -- I mean the locker room -- and got dressed.