Odd One Out ( ON HOLD)

Chapter 1: Since the begining

I have always known that I never really fit in with everybody. Supposedly, I stuck out since the beginning when I was the just a baby. My mom loved to tell me the story of how I was the cutest baby ever to be born at Lincoln Hospital. It's kind of embarrasing when she tells all her friends about how adorable I was, I mean how cute can a screaming newborn be? She used to remind me that I was special because I was born with red hair in a family who's history traces back to brunettes and blondes. Grandmother was insistant that she had a second cousin who was a ginger, but I think shes just saying that to make me optimistic.

You see when you stick out of the croud, people expect you to either be amazingly perfect and talented or a complete outcast. So far I am the fruit loop akwardly drowning in a bowl of cherios. I wasn't meant to be different, but somehow I was granted a wish I never would have asked for. This is my story of how I started to beleive in myself.

It all started one day when I was walking to our local art store for some watercolor paper. To my left was a moderately busy road. There didn't seem to be much traffic and the weather was superb, so I had decided to walk to the art store. I was getting closer and right when I was reaching to open the door, somebody came running down the sidewalk causing me to fall down.

My sketchbook fell out of my hands and loose papers flew everywhere. I looked back, obviously furious and tried to see who would be so inconsiderate. When I turned around to see who this rude person was, I was terrified to see that a fight was occuring between three people. I collected my stuff and tried to make out what was happening.

All of the guys fighting looked familiar to me, but I couldn't put a name with a face. A taller, pale guy threw a punch to a short wimpy looking dude who was flailing about. The other person was yelling. " What do you think you're doing nerd, YOU wouldn't be able to get him a black eye even if you wanted to, you son of a bitch!" I was scared, yet concerned. I didn't want to get involved, but something terrible was going to happen to this poor wimpy boy if nobody stepped in. "What are you doing?" I demanded. The two bullies looked at me and smirked. "Has this little mouse lost her way Ben?" the tall guy asked the guy who seemed to be doing all the punching.

So that's who it was, I couldn't beleive I didn't recognize him sooner. Ben Darwell, bully and badboy of Riverbank High. "I don't know Peter, maybe we could adopt her and take her back to my place?" I was so disgusted, I must have stood there for at least a minute before the wimpy boy spoke up.

"Leave her out of this Ben, you can keep my wallet." He looked worried, but didn't dare even look at me once. Ben's friend let go of the nerd, but kept what I guess was his wallet and the bullies ran away. I turned to this boy in front of me and I didn't know what to say. He finally looked up at me.

He had two fresh bruises and a busted lip, but besides that, he was kind of attractive. He had these big green eyes the shade of seaweed that complimented his tan-ish skin and dark brown hair perfectly. I must have been staring because he gave me a weird look.

"What are you looking at?" he questioned. "N-nothing," I mumbled. How could I speak so confidently in front of Ben but not him? " That bruise on your cheek is pretty low. if ben had hit your jaw, he could have eaisily knocked out a tooth." He looked away in surrender. "I should get home," he mumbled to the concrete. He had a sad tone in his voice. "I could give you a ride if you live close by and I need to get something at a store that could get you ice." I checked my watch. He glanced over me and laughed. "My mother told me not to talk to strange people," he said as he smirked.

My body went tense at his cute dimple and freckles, but I mentally shook away the appeal. He had just insulted me after all. "Strange? I just offered you a ride and ice and you have nerve to insult me?!" "Well, your hair is being held up by a paintbrush and you are dressed like you don't give a crap about what people think about you. I have the right to call you strange." I was baffled. "And I have the right to call you broke and helpless!" I shot back. "Alright, but you better not try anything stupid," he smirked. I blushed unconsciously and rolled my eyes.