Cassidy Brooks was a shy, quiet girl who often kept to herself, with no real friends, her only companion being her books. She believed the rest of her time in high school would be that way, until that one Saturday in March changed everything...
DISC...
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Sitting in my rich stepmom's Lamborghini and being awake way too early on a Saturday morning at ol' Shermer High School gives me a sick feeling in my stomach. I'm still trying to comprehend what I'm doing here, and why I didn't just skip detention. Spending my whole day in the library with a bunch of delinquents is not my ideal Saturday. Then again, when do I ever go out on the weekend anyway? Homework and reading practically make up my entire existence. No friends, no social lif-
"Hurry up and go, I have a hair appointment that I'm already late enough for!" my stepmother snaps angrily.
I shoot her an uncaring glare, earning another remark from the old witch. "You're lucky I even drove you here and didn't make you walk, you ungrateful bitch!"
I finally step out, slamming the door behind me. I look around the parking lot and realize nobody else is getting out of their cars or walking into the school, meaning I must be late. Woohoo.
My stepmother speeds away before I can even start walking, nearly taking my foot off. Once she's far enough away I flip her off angrily, then stalk into the school.
After I get lost just a couple times, I finally find the library. I walk into the already open door, attempting to make my entrance unnoticeable, but I fail. Six pairs of eyes including Vernon's stay glued on me as I quickly take a seat at the tables on my left hand side behind some cuteish guy with mid-length brown hair with lots of layers.
"Well well well, thank you for finally joining us," Vernon says sarcastically.
"You're welcome, sir," I shoot back with equal sarcasm. I may be an introvert, but I am witty with comebacks.
Vernon glares at me before slamming a piece of paper and a pencil in front of me, then proceeds to give the same two things to everyone else. "You are all going to write an essay, no less than a thousand words, describing to me who you think you are," he explains. I roll my eyes at this man's stupidity. How are we supposed to write an essay about ourselves when we're just figuring it out?
"Is this a test?" I hear the guy in front of me ask. He seems like a troublemaker.
Vernon ignores him and continues. "And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"
"Crystal," the guy in front of me replies. Bender, eh? Must be his last name.
"Good," the old snake continues. "maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you'll even decide whether or not you wish to return."
The nerdy looking kid in the puke green sweater two rows in front of me to my left stands up. "You know I can answer that right now, sir. That'd be a no, n-no for me, because-" he stammers, but gets cut off by Vernon.
"Sit down, Johnson."
"Thank you, sir." The nerd, Johnson, awkwardly sits back down. What a dweeb.
Vernon points to the open door. "My office is right across the hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?"
Nobody responds, so Vernon starts to leave. Just then, Bender speaks up. "Yeah, I gotta question." Vernon looks at him skeptically before Bender continues.
"Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"
I bite my lip as hard as possible to hide my laugh. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday. Don't mess with the bull, young man, you'll get the horns," Vernon says sternly. He leaves.
Once he's gone, Bender speaks up. "That man...is a brownie hound."
