Scratch That (A Louis Tomlinson Fanfic)

Prologue

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{ "In every story there's always that one jealous, popular girl that wants to ruin it for your "OTP".

 The "villian".

 The "bitch".

 The one no one likes and the one everyone wants to disappear in a hole.

 Well in this story, that's me.

 And just so you know, we "antagoinists" go through a hell load of shit too.

 The fight for popularity kind.

 And it ain't a merry go round."

~ Katherine Tate, Scratch That }

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Chapter 1- 'Teamwork, Leadership, and Self-Survival' Trip

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I rushed down the hall - textbook under my arm, Coach branded gym bag in my right hand, iPhone in my left - while 'listening' to Lauren, one of my followers, tell me about upcoming school events.

I'm surprised she hasn't put two-and-two together with my lack of response. Afterall, the only place my eyes were piercing through was my phone. Just goes to show you how oblivious the norms are.

This need for speed was pretty foreign to me though. Usually I only moved this fast for a shoe sale downtown, but Ms. Lansing got me reacting the same way for Phys. Ed. class by saying one more tardy meant two weeks of detention.

So there's the million dollar answer. I was currently scampering down the halls like I'm being chased by the Yeti because of my homeroom, gym. 

I was a pretty insane thought that I've already had this first period class for nine freaking months, and I'm still not used to it.

Once I stepped into school, I barely had time to socialize or "loiter" as most of the teachers liked to call it - supposedly to make it sound more scandalous and crime-like, like other populars could.

The reason? Stupid. Gym. Class.

As the other girls went to the change rooms to smooth out the creases from their clothes, I was there, shoving mine in a bag and creating those damn creases that I would exert all my energy into to try and get them out by the end of class.

That was no easy task and it is safe to say that I was never early for second period.

While those same girls would look like they stepped out of a beauty salon entering homeroom, I would look like I had just stepped out of preparation for a military detention center. All students wearing the same clothes regardless of gender; grey t-shirt tainted with school logo, and black shorts.

Complete fashion faux-pas.

However, before you go on thinking that those girls are just high-maintanence and most normal people would look like a trainwreck too going into, and coming out of gym. 

Here's what you should know.

I'm not normal, okay?

In fact, I find the term normal quite offensive when it is associated with my name.

Afterall, I'm one of them. I'm one of those chicks who are used to the high-maintanance life.

Tiny exception being that while they have panic attacks about mud, bugs, and broken nails, I'm above all that.