Academy

Chapter 1- Time For Class

Alex walked soullessly among the crowds, another face in the endless sea of high schoolers. She turns a corner, heading into Room 120, where she'd get her first classes started.

"Did you finish?" A blonde haired kid comes up to her. He had small blue eyes and grinning mouth. Alex recognizes him as Conner.

"Finish what?" Alex sighed.

"I heard you and Matt were fu-"

Alex pushes him aside, rolling her eyes, "You wish."

"Why would I wish that?" He glares at her.

"You'd probably watch or something."

"I'm not a creep!" Conner exclaims.

"Yeah... right." A girl with long, dark hair murmurs sarcastically. Rebecca was pretending to focus on her school work, but in reality, was eavesdropping on everyone around her.

"Sit down." Mrs. Brackett hissed. "Why do you all insist on making my life difficult?"

Rebecca rolls her eyes.

"Now did everyone get their homework done?" She begins writing something on the board.

"About that...." Conner sighed. "I had to go to a funeral yesterday so I couldn't finish it."

Mrs. Brackett narrows her eyes at him. "You've had four funerals this month."

"Times are tough."

Alex gets the teacher's attention. "Oooh! Can you send him to the office?"

"Shut up." Conner spits out. "At least I didn't go around with Ma-"

"This is MY classroom." Mrs. Brackett snaps. "This behavior will not be tolerated."

Jade, the girl sitting next to Alex, whispered, "You and Matt?"

"No... are you kidding?!" Alex looked exasperated.

Jade had shortcut hair and green eyes, with a small strand of her hair dyed a dark emerald color.

"For this continuous misconduct...." The extremely grumpy teacher grinned. "I'm assigning triple the amount of homework this week."

"Look what you two did." Rebecca groans.

"Whoops." Alex mutters.

"Next person who talks gets detention."

Alex gives a look to Connor and silently mouths Talk. He discreetly flips her off.

....

Donovan was in a bathroom stall, sitting on the toilet with both seats down. He was holding a little mirror, which was normally stashed away inside his grey backpack. Along the glass was a line of coke. He pressed his nose up to a rolled-up dollar bill, breathing the powder in through his nostrils.

It was so egotistical, getting pleasure from just watching himself get high in the mirror. He was what you would call a stereotypical "bad boy."

Girls were attracted to him because of his looks and his image of defiance. It didn't matter that he was wrecking his health and mind with narcotics. It didn't matter that his breath constantly reeked of smoke.