Profit

Chapter 1

Bambi POV

It was a warm day in Georgia as the sun beamed down. I took the long way to get things off of my mind. Well lets start with the basics shall we. My name is Bambi Thalia Jacobs and I'm fifteen years old. I'm in my second year of high school. I have light brown middle length hair and hazel eyes to bring it all together.

I have a light olive colored skin with light green rubber bands on my braces. Barely curvy with B-cups. I don't have a huge butt, but mine is average. Better than most superficial girls. My mom's name is Brenda. She had me when she was sixteen years old, now putting her at age thirty-one. We're not very close.

I don't know my dad but my mom told me that's the way it's supposed to be. My mom is dark skinned with black dis-soulful eyes. So most likely it's obvious my traits were definitely brought in from my father. I don't know my grandparents, seeming as to the fact that they disowned my mom. I don't know the full story but I know that much for sure.

I'm an only child which is hard for me but easier for my mom, I guess. We're not exactly struggling but we're not rich either. I didn't grow up with things I wanted. I grew up with what my mom 'thought' I needed. I promised myself that later on I would give myself a better life. I walked a little slower catching glimpse of the big sign that stood tall on the lawn of the school, a walks distance away from the entrance.

'Georgia-Mid High', in big purple bolded letters with black lining. I sighed and picked up my pace adjusting my bag over my shoulder looking down at my black converses. I wore these with a black v-neck and some plain denim jeans. I had no choice but to work with what I had. I slowly looked up seeing a boy with green eyes stare and smirk as his feet dangled off of the table him and his friends sat on. They laughed as I gulped and stared back down.

I opened the double doors and walked to my homeroom class, English 2. I quickly took a seat in the back of the room looking around. I sighed as I stared out of the familiar window which rested between a poster of the world and the now dull aqua walls. Then the old brown chalk board which sat high on the salmon colored paint that was slowly, but surely eroding away.

I reached in my bag and grabbed my folder, planner, and my English notebook. I grabbed a pink mechanical pencil. I hated the color pink with a passion but I wasn't gonna go sue BIC. I put an orange gripper over it and bit my lip in approval as it covered most of the pencil. Just then, more students piled into the classroom as well as our teacher. Everybody took their seats but either associated with one another or stayed glued to their phones.

"Phones away get your stuff out," Ms.Cox said.

Everyone obeyed and slowly got situated. Ms.Cox started up her computer and began to take roll. I got lost in my thoughts. I doodled on an empty sheet of writing paper as I thought about what life would be like if I knew my dad, and if he was in my life. Would I have an older brother to protect me and look up to? Would I have a little sister to look out for? Would we live how we lived or even where we lived? I heard a sharp voice disrupt my wild imagination.

"Bambi Jacobs," Ms.Cox called as she stared at me.

If your looking right at me why should I say anything. Your staring me right in the face and are still waiting for an answer that I refuse to give to you. I simply stared back and she moved on calling out more names. I felt eyes but wouldn't dare look back up. What for? No-one knows me, and quite frankly I like it that way. I listened close as she called off some names I would refuse to be given.

"Sharika Lafaun," She called.

"Here," She boasted loudly bringing a loud and very obnoxious ring to my ears.

"Martishia Landon," She called as her eyes roamed the room.

"I'm right here," She replied the gum in her mouth threatening to fall out and onto the table due to the way she was dangerously salvaging her Trident.

"Darrian McGee," She questioned squinting at her screen.

"Here," He said. The tenure in his voice silencing the rowdy class. It was deadly quiet and the taps of Mr.McAllister's feet swiping door to door until they disappeared into the music wing of the school.

"Alright class start reading," She ordered. The sounds of multiple flipping pages. I opened my book to see a page ripped from the binding. I got up quietly and picked up another replacing the other with the one I'd just gotten. I turned around to go back to my seat when I saw him staring at me with anticipation. I hurriedly looked down and rushed back to my seat in the back. I opened my book and swept across the many pages of "Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry," exiting the many thoughts of Darrian McGee.

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