the five.

•chapter one•

I've never had much. That's the most true thing I've ever said in my life. My moms dead, my dad is an alcoholic and I live in a trailer in the trailer park on the poor side of town. In the middle is where the suburbs are and the shops and everyday stuff.

Next to that is the rich. Ugh, god do I hate them. All of them are snobby, fake and beautiful.

I say snobby cause they only talk to their "people". They're fake cause they buy every single thing with their money to be perfect, even new faces. The rich are beautiful cause that's like a requirement for their stupid kind. I say it like they're some alien race from some other planet, but that how they treat the others, especially me. I know I'm poor, but it's their goal to rub it in my face. They talk behind my back like I'm helpless. Not that I really think twice about them but it sucks to be the piece of shit everyone thinks you are.

My old 30 year old alarm clock I got at a garage sale blasted the annoying sound it makes. If you think a blow horn is bad, listen to my wake up call.

Then it hit me like a punch in the gut. Senior year. Today. In twenty minutes.

I groaned and wanted to put another hole in the damn wall, but I know I can't afford another Led Zeppelin poster to cover it up.

I slowly got out of bed and headed to the small bathroom. I undressed and let the cold water wake me up.

I dread school. Mostly cause my classmates, but mostly cause I don't know what I want to do with my life. I know I can't afford college nor will they even let me in if my grades repeat themselves this year. I definitely won't stay here.

I sighed. It was so much different back then.

I turned the water off and headed back to my room with the towel wrapped around me.

I quickly got dressed in my favorite dark wash jeans, an army green tanktop and my converse high tops. I flipped my hair a few times, (my version of a blow dyer) and put my hair in a messy bun on top of my head. I put on my old grey sweatshirt to keep away prying eyes. I grabbed my old backpack from the foot of my bed and walked into the kitchen/living room/dinning room. I didn't see my father on the couch so that means he is probably at Tammie's house or still at the bar.

I looked around the room and saw the many half full and empty alcohol bottles laying around. The crappy tv sat on a fold out table in the corner, the old red couch rotted in the middle of the room, while the small coffee table sat in the middle of the two old pieces of furniture. The creaky wood cabinets went along one wall, while the fridge went in the other corner. The wobbly screen door that's barley on the hinges, was on the same wall as the tv.

I grabbed a bruised banana and ran out the door. I fished the car keys out of my backpack and unlocked my old rusting truck. I started the old rust bucket and headed outside of the park.

No one was usually up at 7:50 in the morning around here because I'm the only high school student in the trailer park. All the other kids are younger than 14 or older than 19, so I'm all alone. I sped up when I saw the town begin. The high school was right in the center of New Bridge. The rich doesn't want any poor people near their homes. And god forbid them stepping on our soil.

I finally saw the entrance to the school and pulled into the back parking lot. Usually I'm the only one who parks back here because people tried to complain about my truck. I saw four cars parked in the parking lot. I shrugged, probably freshman, not that anyone would want to park in here. It's where the dumpsters are and the home of any shit the school doesn't want.

I quickly walked to the front of the school. The dashboard said 7:56, so I had until 8:05 until I feel the wrath of one of the teachers.

I made my way up the first step when a squeaky girl caught my attention.