Amber has a secret, one that she hates. When the school bad boy finds out, she realizes he isn't who he seems to be.
Garrett is hiding something. When he runs into Amber, he knows his past has caught up to him.
Matt can do no wrong in the eyes of mo...
More Than This hit 5k yesterday!! You guys are amazing, thank you so much!! I wanted to do something to celebrate so I am posting the Wattpad Block Party Winter Edition II bonus chapter RIGHT HERE! So those of you who didn't check the WBP can read Garrett and Amber's thoughts about the first day of school, Day One.
Garrett
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Song of the section - Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot
The first day of school is always the same. It doesn't matter what school you go to, or how many places you have lived. All these damn schools are identical. As I am walking up to the school building, the first day of my senior year and the fourth high school I have attended, I can tell that this f-ing place is a cheap copy of every messed up mini-society of want-to-be adults I have seen. These idiots think they are special, smarter or more experienced than everyone else their age. Well, I can tell you from experience that they are just the same f-ed up assholes that make up every other high school.
Do I sound pissed?
I am. I hate this BS, and I don't think I can stand another entire year of it.
I head up the steps to the main building, which is made of actual bricks, like it's a freaking ivy league institution, and I look around at the loitering student body. Every typical stereotype was represented: cheerleaders hanging on jocks, nerds with their books, tough guys with their freaking leather jackets. And then there was me- none of the above.
School was never a problem for me. I always did fine and grades took hardly any of my effort. You just had to spew back whatever the teacher preached and you were good. Keep quiet and they left you alone, as long as you turned in your work. I had decoded the system right away, I had to. My survival in high school depended on two things; teachers leaving me alone, and keeping my hood up no matter where I was.
The hood was a barrier, it kept people out. And that's where I wanted them, out of my business and out of my space. The hood told everyone to stay the hell away. That and it covered my scar.
I got the scar when I was ten. The details aren't important, but the fact that I even have it says a lot about me. I am tough, but not in the way that everyone perceives. The scar proves I'm a survivor, but most people assume it means I'm a perpetrator. Hah, if they only knew.
It starts at my left eyebrow and travels all the way down my cheek and neck. No one but my family knows it continues down to my left hip. The worst of it is covered with clothes but the part that is visible is what makes people uncomfortable. So the hood is my way of making them uncomfortable about my personality instead of about my scar.
It seems to work pretty well.
Predictably, I can already tell that I am gaining a rep. All I have done so far is park my Charger and walk up the main walkway, but the looks I'm getting say it all. This guy's bad news is written all over every face watching my entrance. Perfect. People stay away from bad news, which was fine by me.
