As I got out of my mom's beat up red Volvo, I heard snickers from who you would typically call the "popular girls" in school. I immediately put my head down, slamming the door shut, my somewhat rude "good bye" caused my to mom roll down the car window, give me a stern glance, then take in a deep breath of air before she spoke.
"Have a great day sweetie." She beamed like she always would. I gave her a weak smile as I sarcastically thought of all of the bullshit I'd be receiving today. If by great day she means walk around these halls scared for my life, then of course I'll have a great day.
I waved good bye to my mom as I walked towards the school hallways, having to wait impatiently for my turn to walk through the door. Even though I was being dropped off early, people were still here, and they had already put on their rude attitudes. Finally getting my turn, I walked through the doors of the school, and straight to my locker. As I walked, I saw boys giving me glances, but not the type every other girl would have gotten, simple because, I was me, and for some reason, everybody hated me. I just gave a smile to them, and continued my way which led them to laughing as a group since they probably thought I took it in as flirting, which I certainly did not.
Finally getting to my locker, I opened it as a note flew out from the bottom. I smiled, stuffing it back into a small box I kept full of the notes that someone would put into my locker. I'm not sure who it was, but there was always some kind of positive quote in it that warmed my heart. I put them in a small box to read on days I felt worse than usual, since they typically brightened up my mood.
"Charity." I heard somebody whisper into my ear. And by somebody, I mean Michael Gordon Clifford. I refused to turn around as I continued to shuffle through my meaningless junk, rearranging everything for no particular reason.
"Why're you here so early?" He whispered, giving me a smirk as he continued his attempts to get in my face.
"I come early alright?" I mumbled.
"What for?"
"To avoid you." I stammered, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through my body.
You see, Michael Clifford and I, we hate each other. He's one of Luke Hemmings' little minions. That little group made up of Michael, Luke, and another friend of theirs, Ashton Irwin, has bullied me for as long as I can remember, when I was little, I was on the chunky side, and to this day they still bug me about it.
"Just letting you know, Luke is on his way." He winked.
"Oh, great." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes in disbelief.
"Don't get too bold with me ya got that Charity?"
"My name is Chelsea."
"Chelsea, Charity. Tomato, Tamoto."
"They're two completely different things!" I defended.
But I shouldn't have.
It was like I almost stopped breathing for a second as I felt the breeze of air come from my locker as it was slammed shut, a piece of my hair being stuck inside.
"Goooood Morning Ms. Charity!"
"Can you not call me that?" I said angrily, attempting to retrieve my hair without tearing it.
