Don't Back Down

Don't Back Down. Ch. 1

Chapter 1: Happy Birthday

Someone shook me awake from my nap. I used my arm to smack their arms away. "Vaaaale," a girl's voice groaned. "Get up. Class just ended. Let's get to our next one before we're late!" She shook me harder.

I lifted my head from the desk I'd been drooling on to look glare at my friend with one eye. I brushed my black hair out of my eyes. My black nails glinted in the light. "You woke me up." I was going to be cranky for the rest of the day now and she knew it. Her name was Krystal. She had been my best friend since fourth grade and was probably the only reason I wasn't in juvy yet. Krystal was like my mom. She always dragged me out of trouble and made sure I tried in school.

"Shutup and let's go." It's a good thing I didn't sit next to her in Trigonometry, the class that just ended. She would have interrupted my snoozefest even sooner. If anyone else had woken me up, I would have bitten their hands off.

Krystal held out my bookbag and pointed to the heavy, over-sized textbooks we never get through that lay underneath my desk. Grumbling to myself, I picked up the books and snatched my bookbag out of her hands. A bone in my neck popped at I sat up and stretched. I straightened out my white Paramore shirt and jeans. I wiped my mouth to make sure no dry spit was on it. I already looked like an idiot most of the time.

I looked around to see that Krystal and I were the only two people in the room other than the teacher who was typing some useless shit up not even sparing us a glance. My Trig's teachers name was Mrs. Hayt. pronounced hate. It fit. She probably wanted to see me late for my next class.

I walked with Krystal out the door and into the hideously-decorated yellow and blue hall. Poster dotted along the walls advertising stupid clubs and such. I couldn't wait till I was out of this school at the end of the year. Only a semester away... and two years.

A few people still lingered by their lockers talking to their mindless friends. I grimaced as I heard a small group of girls squeal as Krystal and I walked by. The obnoxious, annoying sound hurt my ears.

We quickly reached our lockers. They were side-by-side since we went at the same time so we got lockers right next to each other. It was a bonus that they were top lockers. I was short, but not so short that I'd have to step on my tippy-toes just to open my locker and bending over or kneeling down for a bottom locker was such a pain.

"You know there is a new kid coming today. Actually, he's probably already here," Krystal told me while opening her locker. The news didn't surprise me mostly because I could care less. "Was he in your first or second period?" I shook my head no. "Oh, maybe he's not here yet. I would think he would be. People usually arrive in the morning I'd think." Thank you, Captain Obvious. I can't help being bitter. I was cranky.

Then, I realized she was babbling which meant she had something to say or something was seriously on her mind. "Say it already, Krystal." I never understood why she would never just say it and I would always have to ask.

Her mouth opened and closed and an uncertain look came over her pretty face. "I'm too easy." She suddenly looked excited. "John asked me out! He asked me in Gym yesterday when I was all sweaty. I was so embarrassed when he came over!" she whispered overexcitedly. Krystal was actually jumping up and down. She'd liked him for a couple months now. I so didn't share in her joy. I didn't have anything against John Wells or anything, but it just didn't matter to me. John was a popular football player and pretty good looking. I guess they were good together but I was definitely no matchmaker.

"Good for you, girl. Let's get to class." I said unenthusiastically. Krystal expect my dull reaction so her smile didn't dim the way there. I was a little surprised Krystal didn't go out more often. With all her curves, nice boobs, and good-girl face, she could be Miss Popularity. But she wasn't. Because for some reason she had chosen to stick with depressing, anti-social me.