I'm Not a Hero

CHAPTER ONE

Bucky's P.O.V

"James, you need to stop having nightmares, you're scaring your little sister." My mother tells me sternly, even swinging that index finger at my face. She's saying it like I have any control over what happened.
"Maybe if you didn't crash the car that had my arm amputated, I wouldn't be burdened with them." That, earned me a harsh slap across my face but I keep my hard stare even though I want to bury under my blankets and disappear.
Before I can be screamed at, there's a knock at the door but it's just Steve. I know this because he lets himself in with his stupid grin. People call me the troublemaker but oh how wrong everyone is. Without looking at my mother, I go to my room and grab my backpack for school and stop by Georgia's bedroom where the little three year old is playing with her My Little Ponies.
"I'm sorry I scared you." I apologise, crouching next to the dark haired girl.
"It's okay, Jamie! I wasn't that scared, promise!" Georgia cheers happily, placing her Rainbow Dash down and giving me a squeezing hug. Who knew three year old's could be so strong. "You'll come home tonight?"
"Of course I will, bug." I kiss her forehead and pick up Rainbow Dash and making a neigh sound then making my voice go high. "Jamie will come back!"
That makes my sweet little sister burst into fits of giggles. Suck that mum.
"Okay, I better get going." I kiss her forehead once more and awkwardly push myself up. Steve grins at me when I enter the lounge, my mum is discreetly glaring from the kitchen but Steve doesn't notice. "Hey, Stevie."
"Hey Buck," I have no idea why he's smiling so darn much. It's just a normal day. My mum getting mad and slapping me right before Steve gets here before we take the bus to school. "Ready to go to hell?"
School is heaven compared to here, I think to myself but I don't say anything because I don't want to ruin Steve's happy mood.
Outside the apartment, it's windy and raining like there's no tomorrow. Normally, I hate this kind of weather but it suits my mood perfectly right now. Moody. I'm thankful that Steve zipped up my jacket before we left the building, doing it with one hand, even after all this time, is still extremely difficult.
"Why are you so happy?" I whine unhappily when we finally make it onto the school bus just after it arrives.
"That new girl that people keep talking about starts today, and," I don't like where this is heading. Steve already has a boner for someone he's never even met. Why can't he go back to being small, skinny, sick Stevie? But yet again, that Steve was an angry little chihuahua. "She's in all of your classes."
"Steve!" I grumble at him when he pulls a timetable from his backpack. A timetable that is most definitely not his. "People call me the bad boy."
"Oh hush, Buck." Steve rolls his eyes, trying to shove the paper into my hand but I pull it away and stuff my hand into my pocket with an unintentional glare. "Bucky, I'm sorry. She seems cool from what I've heard."
"Mmhmm." I hum, my unfocused gaze on the plastic back of the seat in front of me.
"Be nice to her at least." Steve lightly pushes my shoulder, earning a huff of annoyance from me.
I'm quiet for the rest of the bus ride to school, not particularly liking the noise coming from the rest of the students on the school but but there isn't a lot I can do about that. But, I do find it a little funny watching rich boy, Tony Stark - who usually drives to school - shamelessly flirt with Steve who is more flustered than I've ever seen him. Not even around pretty girls who talk to the guy.
When the bus finally pulls up outside of school, everyone piles out and enters the school as the rain gets heavier. Just before Stevie and I enter the English block, the temperature suddenly drops below freezing. I'm not wearing the right clothes for this weather.
"Come on, Buck." Steve pulls me into our English class and we take a seat by one of the heaters that line two of the walls.
I sit down right next to said heater with Steve on my other side. The scar from my arm is giving me a hell of a lot of pain because of the cold. Placing my backpack on my lap and tug on the zip until it finally opens so I can grab my stuff for class.
"Stevie!" School quarterback, Sam Wilson, yells and I let out a little groan of annoyance. I hate this guy, and not just because of the nickname. "Why are you still hanging with the one armed kid?"
"He's my friend, Sam." Steve sighs unhappily.
Deciding that their conversation isn't worth my time, I stare out the window, watching the snow storm pick up outside. I very much hope there isn't a snow-in because as much as I hate my home life, I hate being stuck here with these people even more. I hardly even notice when the class starts, mostly because I loathe English. It's not until I get a rough poke in my ribs that I come back into focus and glare at Steve, who is grinning like a madman and nodding to the girl in front of us. I just roll my eyes at him because all I can see is the red hair on the back of her head.
"Mr Barnes, I know you only have one arm but that doesn't give you an excuse to slack!" Mr Burgess snaps. I flinch hard and look down at my notebooks as everyone turns to look at me. "Now!"
Everyone goes back to what they were doing, which is mostly just screwing around like twelve year old's and not like the seventeen or eighteen year old's we actually are. When I do finally look up, the red haired girl in front of me is staring at me, giving me an odd look. I give her an odd look which makes her turn away but even with her head facing the whiteboard, I can't stop thinking about those piercing green eyes of hers.
Jesus, I don't even know her name and I think she's gorgeous and most likely the most amazing person ever.
Two and a half more classes later, the principal, Mr Brixter, tells everyone that no one will be able to go home today because the roads have been closed from the snow storm but classes are still on. Everyone groans because it's a Friday and a lot of us have stuff to do. I'm just hoping that I can sleep away from people because of my nightmares. No one needs to here a broken eighteen year old screaming in the middle of the school hall.
"Stevie," I grab my friend's arm tightly after the intercom shuts off. "Steve."
"I'll talk to Mr Brixter, okay?" He assures me quietly.