okay so im gonna be a creepy author and leave this note. im writing this new story because the idea came to me the other day randomly. (i was riding my bike) weird right?! anyways.... i hope u like it! :)... ps riding bikes are fun so dont judge me ;)
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
“Ugh just look at her the poor thing, her dad is dead and her mom is a deadbeat who doesn’t do anything, how does she survive.” Chelsea my child hood friend says this while she flips her straight brown hair over her shoulder. Her tone cut me deepest. There was no sympathy, no sign of feeling.
“I don’t think I have heard her talk all year”, said one of her little clique members, I called her the clown. It fits since she wore more makeup than clothes and had fake bright red hair.
“She is such a loner; she is probably one of those voodoo freaks or something like that.” Chelsea and her friend stopped to look at their blonde companion. Even i had to take a second to glance up at her from my seat in the back of the room. Her intelligence level probably ran about as deep as a homeless mans’ wallet.
“Don’t be stupid Brooke, I’m sure it’s just something common like depression or social disorder” Chelsea said. I don’t know why I was ever friends with her, her voice made me cringe and she only ever cared about attention and popularity. But her words still hurt because I knew she was one of the few people who actually knew me. We had told each other everything, up until third grade; after my dad died I watched my life crumble before my eyes.
They assumed so many things, and the rumors were relentless. You would think after ten years people would have moved on, but no.
Whenever someone saw me they seemed to over look my actions. Some people don’t even believe my dad is dead. They think he ran off with some slutty waitress from the local diner.
Other rumors are the hardest though. That my dad was sleeping with me, that he was sexually abusing me. I heard a few ladies talking in the bathroom, as I was sitting right there in one of the stalls, that the reason my mother was so heartbroken was because I seduced her husband and that’s why he supposedly ran in shame. They called me home wrecker, I didn’t even know you could home wreck your own family. I stayed in that stall and cried for hours, I wished I had the courage to stand up to them or even the energy to explain the truth. But if I am being honest I don’t want them to know the truth, they don’t deserve to know. It’s my life.
Not everyone is completely horrible; the lady who buys my cow milk is so lovely. I sell honey to one of my neighbors and he is someone I can always talk to. The sad thing is I have no friends my age. My last friend was Chelsea in third grade and since then I have never talked to anyone. I sat and watched my life pass by; I sat through the funeral, through the rumors, through bullying. And as I near the end of my high school career I can’t help but wonder if I will ever be able to start new somewhere. I can’t leave my mother but I also can’t stay here. What will I do?
My thoughts had obviously drifted off from class. It was the last day. Summer was no longer approaching it was here. I caught little snippets from conversations being held all around me.
“Pool, beer, girls… you gotta come man it’s gonna be epic”
“Josh and I are taking things to the next level tonight; his parents are out of town so I am spending all weekend at his house”
“After the mall we should all go see a movie together”
These were people who had regular lives, regular problems. Their laughter and happy voices filled the room. My sadness sometimes scared me, what if people were right and I was depressed. I quickly shook the thought away I was only this sad at school, at home on our field I was so happy, staring at our land and my father’s grandfathers’ land. It had been in our family for so many years. That was something that surprised me when my dad died. I thought we would have to sell our farm, but me and my mother were both given a huge shock, my father had left us a small fortune. We don’t spend the money unless we need to and it was my biggest relief. My mother cannot work so we did not need to worry about bills.

YOU ARE READING
Love Can Heal A Broken Heart
Teen FictionAmelia isn't looking for love and neither is Anders. When he takes a summer job on her farm what will happen as they grown very close. Secrets are shared and lives intertwined. They may both be a little broken but what they dont know is that love ma...