Big Girls Don't Cry, they make bad boys do it for them.

Chapter 1

First day of Senior year, at a new highschool, a thousand bazillion miles from where you used to go. 

Fun right. 

Yeah, let's just add it to trips at the dentist, getting rejected by 2 boys at the same time, and being late for your first conversation with a new phycologist because you bumped into an asshole flirting with some blonde chick. 

Fun. 

So, that's what got me here, staring at the asshole's chest because he just had to be a guy who's taller than me. I'm 5'7. Who's taller than 5'7.

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I get up at 2 AM and again at 6 AM. Each time the panic attack comes stronger. Each time my breathing becomes dryer and heavier. And each time I wake up sweating more than the last. Until, I finally decide that sleep isn't worth it.

I pull on my lightwash jeans and a black t-shirt. Carrying my sketchbook, I sit down to draw. This time, I draw tears. Broken down tears and a little girl crying her heart out. Then I add a sun to the corner. 

I quickly and quietly grab my breakfast and head to school. Half and hour early as was requested to my sister. But, of course, she wouldn't remember. She probably forgot to sign herself up for community college too. 

 I walk swiftly through the building who calls itself a sorry escuse for a school. I jog through the school to find the principles office. I find it, but keep jogging. After doing maybe 2 laps around the school, I finally knock on the door. 

A reception opens the door, and kids are starting to get here. I sneak in, narrowly missing a football to the head. 

Stupid Jocks.

"Name." She asks. Her hair is grey, tied into a tight knot. She looks fragile. 

"Willow Che-" I pause. "Willow Hills."

She looks at me funny then shrugs, as if dismissing the quizical thought in her head. "Senior. Starting today. It says here that you had a phycologist.' 

I shrug. 

She talks into a phone and the priniciple steps out. His glasses are round and he is a tall man.

"Mr. Whitby would like to talk to you." She says. 

I turn to the principle. "Hello, Mr. Whitby."

He smiles. "Hello Miss Hills. I assure you that this school will be great for you. The teachers are extrodinary. The best. Now, as for the phycologist, I prefer if you would go now to just say hello. Her room is down a few halls, and left door." He points. 

"Thank you." With that, I take my schedual from the receptionist and make my way out of the office, in search of my new source of dread.