Karma's A Bitch

Chapter 1

The floor looked especially nice today. It must have been waxed pretty recently. The red and white tiles gleamed vibrantly under the glaring lights of the hallway. Those were my thoughts right before I did a face plant into said floor causing the geometry textbook in my hands to fly five feet in front of me. My sneakers squeaked loudly on the laminate floor, no doubt leaving a scuff on its well-polished surface. I groaned and rolled over, the cold floor pressing against my back. Sitting up, I spotted what I tripped over: a red athletic shoe stuck out in the middle of the hallway where I was walking just moments earlier. The shoe was unfortunately attached to the foot of this asshole, whose name didn't even bother to learn, nor did I want to learn. I just knew he was a minion of the head asshole, Chad something-or-other. If you couldn't tell, I'm not exceptionally good the whole learning people's names thing.

I vaguely heard laughing from them, lost in thought about how bad I felt for that poor red athletic shoe. Having to be worn by that jerk must be very exhausting for it. And yes, I know it's an inanimate and object and doesn't have feelings. Do I care? No.

Anyway, so there I was, sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway being laughed at by jerks with brains the size of walnuts and thinking about athletic shoes, when things turned violent. They always did. A kick to the stomach knocked me from my thoughts as well as air from my lungs. I gasped for breath as the red-shoed jerk hauled me to my feet. Red shoes looked to Chad as if to ask, "What now, Master?" And then, with a flick of Chad-the-asshole's wrist, he yawned and said with disinterest, "Bleachers."

So I was then dragged throughout the hallways, struggling against my captor. My shoes skidded against the floor, causing even more scuffs on the poor laminate floor. I called out to other students passing by, hoping to gain sympathy. I knew it was a lost cause though. School had ended for the day, and nobody gave a damn what happened to me. All I got were glares, sneering faces, and callous comments whispered in my ear. And the teachers didn't care either. No, they wanted to stay as far away as they could from a struggling student and in their own little bubble of ignorance.

Chad's posse of five took me outside through a back door, avoiding the main entrance. Like anyone who saw us would actually care about what was happening. I mean if they did see us, they'd probably join in on the fun anyway. Still refusing to walk to make it easier on my captives, I was dragged out by the football field and under the bleachers. Red shoes tossed me down onto the ground, still a little muddy from last night's rain. The mud splattered onto my jeans and blue sweater. It mixed into my dirt-colored hair, making it hard to tell what was hair and what was mud. Chad pushed to the front of the group. "Here we are again," he said. "Do you know why we have to keep doing this?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Because you don't have anything resembling a life and have nothing better to do in your free time than to beat me to a pulp every day."

A kick to the stomach again. "Wrong, Anna. Always wrong. You're supposed to be smarter than this."

That was when the real beat-down started. Hauling me to my feet, he shoved me against a support beam of the bleachers and repeatedly slammed his fist into my stomach. His goons cheered him on. I hunched over in pain, groaning and clutching my stomach. Then, my head was yanked upward by my hair. I cried out as white hot pain seared through my scalp, and then my jaw when he went for the face. I staggered, but stayed upright. I laughed in his face and wheezed, "Is that all you've got? C'mon last time you almost fractured a rib." I must have been crazy. Another punch to the face, this one sending a trickle of blood down my face from my nose. This time I fell to the ground, barely missing another puddle of mud. Clambering to my feet, clinging to the support beam, I Iooked at my assailant, and spat at him.