A/N IK This story is trash, but im bored so. KEEP READING. VOTE. COMMENT. FAN. IDK. OH and this is not edited.
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Harley's POV
You're on the phone with your girlfriend.
She's upset.
She's going off about something that you said.
'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do.
I'm in my room.
It's a typical Tuesday night.
I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like.
And she'll never know your story like I do'.
I sat up, groggily. Why did my morning have to be tainted with music? Even though I love music, waking up to a song just makes the song stuck in your head.
Great, I'm gonna have to sing this the whole day.
The WHOLE day. GOD, WHY ME?
Well, I might as well get ready. I quietly slipped into the bathroom to do my business and shower. I put on a maroon long sleeved shirt with black leggings. My black Vans were perfect for this outfit.
That's not important, right now. I had to get to school. I ran downstairs to eat my breakfast.
Yum, NUTELLA. Some people I know don't like Nutella, and there is something wrong with them. It's like heaven came down in the form of chocolate. I moaned, uh Nutella is so good. I grabbed my beanie that says 'I woke up like this' and ran out the door. Shiitake mushrooms. I was gonna be late.
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I walked, hold up, I sprinted to school. Ah, good old Sierra High. NOT. This school has given me so many issues. It's the ULTIMATE CLICHE. There are the populars, jocks, nerds, emos, and any other group that society can name.
I was shy, when it came to school, but sometimes my sarcastic self slipped out. I'm a junior, so this was the most important year of high school.
I needed to focus on my grades and have no distractions. Distractions like that ice cream sundae you saw on Pinterest? My conscience teased.
Shut up, Mavis.
Yes, I know I'm weird. I named my conscience Mavis. I'm sorry. Not. Ha, I could start singing right now. BABY I'M SORRY (I'M NOT SORRY).
I ran my class. I WISH. I would be like, class dismissed muchachos! I ran into class. Sorry, I got some sass. (rhyme totally intended)
I sneaked into my ugly brown chair with the desk attached to it.
I took a breath. God, this stupid, unnecessary invention is driving me bananas! And you would like to ride some bananas? HUH?
NOT NOW MAVIS!
Desks with chairs attached to them. I mean, if i try to move the chair back, I take the desk with me. It's so annoying! I would like my chair to be separated from my desk, thank you very much.
"Late again, Ms. King," my math teacher, Mrs. Hickey, spoke with full authority. She scared the bejeuzzes (pronounced like bee jesus, sorry I can't spell) out of me.
"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Hickey. I woke up late. It won't happen again," I stated with my head down, while playing with my shirt's sleeve. This teacher would be the death of me. She's so strict! Why can't she be nice? Why do teachers make it their life goal to torture us?
"You keep saying that everyday, but you're always late. Maybe a detention will do you some good."
I nodded my head in shame.
She can't do that! I'm only late! What am I gonna do?! This is gonna be a mark on my record. I'm never gonna get a scholarship to Yale.
What am I gonna do? I am dead, I'm so dead. No college will accept me now. I'm toast. I'm freaking burnt toast. Not even the dumpster would accept me. People would throw me in and the dumpster will just throw me back.
A/N HOW WAS THIS? PLEASE COMMENT. VOTE, COMMENT, FAN IDK PLEASE. CHERRIES ON TOP. IM RANDOM. OMG A GNOME IS CALLING ME. K BYE.
WHY IS SHE SO DEAD?
-CUKOO5
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