Rewrite the Scars

Chapter 2

Karsyn

I watched Mallory shake her head in disgust. I couldn't help but laugh. While we walked to class, I took the chance to look over her appearance. She was dressed nice in skinny jeans and a loose sweater. Her hair was down, which was nothing new. I laughed to myself knowing that tomorrow she'd be wearing leggings and a sweatshirt.

"Why do I even hang out with you?" she asked, jokingly.

"Because you don't have much of a choice. You're stuck with me, Muñeca," I replied, playfully draping my arm around her shoulders.

She had a valid point. To anyone else, Mallory and I didn't seem like the types to be friends with each other. Her personality did not mesh well with mine. We were polar opposites. Shy and outgoing never go together. Goody-Goody doesn't go with someone who breaks the rules to have fun. Miss I-only-have-one-soulmate-who-is-all-I'll-ever-love definitely does not go with my philosophy that soulmate or not, it's okay to mess around with no strings attached.

Mallory and I had been classmates since sixth grade. We ran with different crowds. I hung out with the jocks and she hung out with the nerds. We knew our places, and we rarely crossed paths. We never talked. I knew she existed, but that was pretty much it. Obviously, we, eventually, graduated from middle school and had to move onto high school. All my friends decided to go to Eastwood High, the bigger, more crowded school on the other side of town. I chose the smaller, calmer school. I walked into school on the first day of Freshman year all alone. I was prepared to try to wedge myself into cliques that had already been made the years before. But then, I saw Mallory. She told me that her friends chose to go to a different school than her; she was in the same boat as me. We decided then, that it was better to stick together and survive together, than to go our separate ways and try to brave the new school on our own.

Our friendship was rocky at first, all we did was disagree and argue. I hated how much of a goody-two-shoes she was and she hated that I broke just about every rule in the book, but as time passed I grew fond of her. I learned her sense of humor, her fears, what makes her smile, what makes her cry. I got to know her heart, not the person she showed on the outside. I got to know her. Now, I would die before I let anyone, or anything, hurt her.

We're still polar opposites, but we make it work. I convince her to loosen up and have more fun, and she brings me down to earth when I have too much fun and lose all sense of responsibility.

"What classes do you have?" she asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I pulled out the folded up class schedule out of my back pocket, "English, U.S. Government, Math, then lunch. After that, I have an early release period, then weights,"

"Looks like we only have homeroom together," She said without looking at her schedule. Knowing her, she already had it memorized, "Thank god."

"Oh please, without me, your life would be so boring,"

"Whatever. I'm just grateful I don't have to deal with more than one class period of you poking me with your pencil, playing with my hair, throwing things at me, and distracting me from my classwork,"

"Oh come on! It adds flavor to the class period," I said stopping in front of our homeroom.

"It makes me want to shoot myself," she joked, pushing my arm off her shoulders and walking into the room, grabbing a seat near the back of the class.

I rolled my eyes playfully, taking the seat behind her.

"Don't you dare use your pencil to poke my head, or I'll chop yours off," She growled, turning in her seat to face me.

"You'll chop my head off?" I asked.

She nodded in reply, trying her best to keep a serious face, a hint of a smile appearing at the corner of her lips.

"Which one?" I asked, smirking.

She furrowed her brows for a moment, trying to process. When she realized, her expression softened and she shot me an annoyed expression,   "Disgusting," she turned back around to face the front of the classroom.

Mrs. Tuffey's "first day of school" lecture was the same as the years in the past, and equally boring. Throughout the class, I kept poking Mallory's sides causing her to squirm in her seat. She'd definitely be getting me back for it, but I didn't care. It made Tuffey's class less boring. After what felt like hours, the bell rang and we all flooded out of the classroom.

"See you at lunch?" I called out.

"You know it," Mallory replied, heading in the opposite direction.

~•~

Lunch came about all too slow. By the time I got to the cafeteria and grabbed my lunch, I saw Mallory already sitting down at our table.

I strolled over to the table, taking in all the female eyes glued on me. I revealed a soft smirk, loving all the attention I was getting. I set my lunch tray down on the table, looking around the room, taking in the view of the babes watching me one last time before I turned my back. As I went to sit down, I found myself going further down than anticipated. Next thing I knew, my ass met the cold, concrete floor of the cafe.

The room erupted with laughter as my cheeks turned hot. I looked up at Mallory, who was also laughing, her hand resting on the back of my chair.

She moved my chair out from underneath me...

"You probably think you're sooo funny, don't you?" I grimaced.

She settled her laughter, "I warned you what would happen if you messed with me in class,"

I stood up, brushing off my pants. I looked around to see my admirers laughing at me. I plopped into my seat, resting my elbows on the tables, and throwing my head in my hands.

"Kar?" Mallory asked, in a cool tone, rubbing my back.

"I'm a failure," I replied, my voice muffled.
I could feel her judgmental stare, "Don't be so dramatic. It's no big deal,"

"That's what you think," I ran my hands through my hair, combing it back, "Do you know how many people saw what just happened?" I asked, looking over at her.

She shrugged, "I don't know, quite a bit of people saw it,"

"Exactly. All eyes were on the situation. Which means, all eyes were on YOU,"

Her eyes widened and her cheeks went pink. She pushed her tray away from her, folding her arms on the table and putting her head down on them. She let out a loud groan.

"Now who's being dramatic?" I chuckled, plucking a fry from my tray and popping it into my mouth.

She lifted her head, rolling her eyes, "So, have you figured out who you're kicking off senior year with?" She asked. I knew she was trying to be supportive, but she failed to hide the disgust on her face.

"I have," I replied.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"You."