RUNAWAY'S GUIDE TO FINDING HOME

Chapter Two: Broken Promises (JoJo)

The school was larger and nicer than I expected for the small city of Cartersen. It almost looked like one of those private academies. Which meant it was probably abundant with a bunch of rich, preppy kids, which also meant two things: I'd either be ignored, or picked on. I just hoped I could go unnoticed, despite the size of the school. It wasn't difficult for me, though; to most, I was practically transparent.

Worked for me.

Despite this knowledge, I could not swallow the anxiety I felt rising in my chest. My old school was so small, and it was likely that every teenager in Cartersen went to this one. I was senior, meaning I was supposed to be at the top of the adolescent food chain, but I was also the new kid. Someone would notice me at first, for a while, until they forgot about my existence. Just like everyone did. Even Mother forgot me most of the time. It was best this way, anyways. I wasn't sure I was going to be around for much longer.

It was about a half an hour before the first bell, according to the schedule. That brought me to my first goal: find a nice, quiet spot to myself. It shouldn't be too hard--this campus was huge. There was bound to be an empty area. With this in mind, I began my trek. It seemed like many of the students were already there. I could see all the different cliques; the jocks, the nerds, the emos, the goths, the preps, the cheerleaders, the stoners, the gangstas--the list was endless. I knew this would be that kind of school. It almost seemed worse than my old one, as I could simply sense the segregation on the premises. 

I made my way through the crowds of students with my head down, avoiding all eye contact. As I roamed I eventually found a nice, shady spot behind the bleachers. Strangely enough, a picnic table was settled there.

Perfect.

I sat down, placing my backpack beside me. Though it was practically empty, I did place a single notebook inside. It was full of my writings and ideas. Writing was my outlet, and was how I channeled all of my unnecessary emotions. Rage, sadness, disappointment, anxiety.

These stories were my everything, and without them, I don't know where I'd be. I opened it to a random empty page, staring at the starch white background covered by fine blue lines. A blank space, a brand new slate. Something I knew I would never have. I had no particular idea on what to write, so I just....did. My pen hit the page, and the words flowed out. I wasn't even sure what the story was about, but it was poetic, whatever it was. All of my anxiety and angst slowly flooded from my mind. It was okay now. I was okay.

That is, until I heard a harsh voice.

"Hey, girlie, this is our spot!"

I snapped my notebook closed and brought my attention to the voice. There stood a trio of teenagers, two girls--a redhead and a brunette--and a guy. Their chests were puffed out as if they were the king and queens of the jungle. Or, as for the look of them, the pimp of the bad corner and his skanks. It had been the boy who had spoken. "I don't see your name on it," I say with an emotionless expression.

"Don't be a smartass," the brunette snapped, looking me up and down, "You're new, aren't you? Already think you run the place, huh?" She gave a shrill laugh at the thought. I clenched my teeth and kept silent. I couldn't get into a fight on my first day. I couldn't take the embarrassment my mother would have to face. 

"Fine," I spat, grabbing my things, "I'll go." As I started past them, the guy pushed me back and smirked.

"Hey, what's this?" The redhead girl snatched my notebook out of my hands.

"What the fuck?" I growled.

The redhead laughed. "What sort of secrets do you have in here, huh?" I clenched my fists. "Something important, obviously." She started to flip through the pages, and I nearly lost it. I felt a fiery, burning rage surge through my body. Nobody--nobody--had the right to go through my things, especially not my notebook. It held my darkest thoughts, though in the most abstract fashion, and just the idea of someone knowing those thoughts flooded me with fury. I was about to raise my fist and fight, despite the poor odds, until an unfamiliar voice joined in.