6 months to live

Tatum

    School had become extremely difficult. Staying focus was almost close to impossible. I couldn't concentrate on anything no mattered how hard I tried. It felt aggravating! I had never been so frustrated while trying to read. The pressure to be academically successful when so many people had high expectations for you was the worst thing I had ever dealt with.

         "Tess, can we please talk?" My teacher, Ms. Denise, pulled me aside. Everyone was patiently getting ready to hear the bell ring, a signal for lunch time. By patiently I mean they were on the edge of their seats, ready to storm out of the classroom like a herd of cattle.

    I nearly stumbled five times as I made my way over to her desk. Even though I had never consumed alcohol in my life, my gait was similar to that of an alcoholic's.

          "Yes, Ms. Denis?"

     My teacher pulled up a seat from beside her desk. "I understand that sometimes we all have bad days but yours is really troubling me. You're not obliged to but would you mind telling me what's going on with you?"

           I looked her in her eyes. "I'm fine," I lied. I wanted her to believe I was perfect. My life was going in a perfect direction. Where I saw myself in ten years? Well it certainly wasn't dead.

     "Are you sure because your grades say otherwise." She pulled up the grade book to show me where my grade was sitting in her class. "Your grades have been plummeting recently. I'm afraid that if you don't get them up....you won't graduate with your class."

      My jaw dropped when my eyes skimmed over to my name. "That's my grade in this class?"

          She tapped the screen with her long pedicured nails. "Your grade is sitting at a D-. The school year is still fresh, you have plenty of time to get it up. The decision is yours, Maya."

       My whole body froze. Her words tickled my spine. My feet felt like I had let them sit in ice for two hours. "No, no!"

       That's when the bell rung.

~~~

     My friends and I all sat at the same table for lunch. Our table was the "cool table." We weren't stuck up unlike how movies make us to be. We were all just kids who worked hard to get where we were. There was Chelsea Evans, the school's female heartthrob. She worked beside me in student council. Most people that knew her liked her because of her fun, and very outgoing personality.

    Then there was Samaira Kapoor who transferred to our school last year. Kids would mock her because she had a thick Indian accent when she spoke English. Then they would tease her for silly things like the way she liked dressing since it was different.
      Samaira, not even in her second month of transferring, tried to take her life.
Some classes were held up on the roof of the school to give students fresh air and help circulate their brain flow. The roof was also my number one go to when I just needed to reset my mind. It was a good thing I decided that I had gone that day because if I had waited even ten seconds....Samaira would've jumped.

         On the other side of the spectrum was Tatum Sanchez. He was obnoxious, broody, controlling, but incredibly handsome. Tatum roamed the world without a single care to give. Samaira and Chelsea both questioned why we were dating since we were polar opposites, but I was blindly in love with Tatum. He was what completed my magnificent life.

            "Tatum is a leech, Maya," Chelsea warned me. "If you don't get rid of him...something bad will happen."

Little did they know that I only wanted Tatum because I loved the way heads turned when I was with me. The jealous of my classmates was what energized me. Tatum meant absolutely nothing to me deep down inside. He was an accessory to me....I could always buy more, and when he was around, it showed people my status; wealthy.

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I like putting little specks of my personality into my characters so if that last sentence creeped you out or worried you...well, I guess I'm sorry?

It's not everyday you read about a character like Maya. Please don't dislike her just because she's conceited D:! Give her a chance. Watch her develop later on