*Penelope*
The trees rush by in a blur, the green of the leaves blending together with the dark brown of the bark. All I can hear is the loud music blasting in my ears as I sit back against the dark green seat. The air smells like exhaust and vomit, the atmosphere thick with fatigue and abhorrence. It has to be some sick sadistic plot, asking teenagers to wake up at an ungodly hour in the morning and expect them to want to learn. Usually I would be talking to my best friend Melody, but she has been getting rides from her boyfriend recently.
The bus stops abruptly, many heads hitting the seat preceding them. I groan, rubbing my own head and adjusting my hood. I pray that once I get off of this death trap, I won't smell like it. I sigh and close my eyes, resting my head against the cold glass. The bus has yet to move, many annoyed grunts leaving the morning breath-filled mouths of high school students. I close my eyes, trying to get a few minutes of sleep before I am forced to actually be productive inside of the prison I am obligated to go to every single day. A dark shadow rests itself along my tired body, my eyes slowly opening in confusion.
"Can I sit here with you?" a deep voice asks me. I let out a large sigh and move my bag onto my lap. I look up at this mysterious figure, my eyes trailing up his body until they reach his face. An expectant and polite smile resides on his face, his eyes hopeful and almost pleading. I smile gently and nod.
"Yeah, sure," I tell him. He lets out a grateful breath of air and sits down next to me, placing his backpack on his lap. I immediately smell his cologne, its scent intoxicating and heavenly. I continue to discretely smell the newly perfumed air. I tend to love smells. Whether it's candles, perfumes, or cookies baking, I love smells. I rub my nose with the back of my hand, squinting my eyes slightly. My head returns to its previous position against the bus window as my phone switches to one of my favorite songs. I feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my head, my own opening once more to look at him. Once my eyes meet his, he looks away completely. I let out yet another sigh and sit up straight. He pretends to look for something in his backpack, until I decide to speak up.
"Are you a new student?" I ask, taking my earbuds out of my ears and placing them in my bag. He halts his movements, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. He turns his head to look at me, his small curls bouncing. His thumb gently scratches his jaw, his mouth opening in a yawn.
"Yeah. Sorry if I'm bothering you by sitting here, you just look like the nicest out of everyone else," he says, looking embarrassed. I take the time to imbibe his appearance. His small brown curls frame his face, seemingly soft and gently. His bright green eyes are striking, almost impossible to look away from once glanced into. His pink lips, slightly chapped, moving slowly. Ugh, he's saying something and I haven't been paying attention at all.
"So anyways, that's why the bus stopped so quickly. That zipper would just not stay in place," he says, laughing softly. I laugh with him, trying so hard to keep him from thinking that I wasn't listening.
"What's your name, by the way?" he asks, running his fingers through his hair. The bus pulls into the back entrance of the high school, groans thrown into the air. I chuckle and shake my head.
"Penny," I tell him, extending my hand out.
"Harry," he returns my handshake, firmly gripping onto my small hand.
"Well, Harry, I would be glad to show you around school. We might have classes together." He stands up, pushing his arms through the straps. He stuffs one hand into his pocket and smiles lightly. My gaze stops on the sight of his dimple, barely there but visible.
"No it's okay. I'll see you around though, maybe for lunch?"
"Yeah sure, okay," I say, slightly disappointed that he turned me down. I was really hoping to make a new friend. Melody is my only friend here. Everyone thinks that I'm a huge loser. I get pushed around and called names; no one wants to be friends with a loser. Luckily, Melody has stuck by my side since kindergarten and I am always so grateful that she didn't ditch me as soon as high school started.
"See you," Harry says before getting off the bus.
"Bye," I whisper, mostly to myself.
As soon as I set foot in the school, I keep my gaze down. I place my earbuds back into my ears to drown out the sound of insults thrown my way. I dig through my bag, looking for my first class' binder. Once I find the binder it's knocked out of my hands and onto the dirty floor.
"Hey!"I yell.
"Awww did wittle Penny, drop her notebook," Megan taunts. She has been my main tormentor since high school started, and she never stops. Any time she has the chance to physically or verbally abuse me, she does.
"No, you knocked it out of my hands," I grumble, bending down to pick it up. She pulls my bag from my shoulder and empties the contents onto the ground.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yell at her. Everyone around me freezes, then starts to laugh. I feel my eyes well up with tears, as I pick up the rest of the items.
"What did you just say to me?" she seethes, pulling me up by my hair. I shove her off of me, standing up.
"I said, what the hell is wrong with you? I haven't done shit to deserve what you put me through!" I yell, dusting off my pants and grabbing my bag. All of the sudden a throbbing sting is felt on my right cheek.
"Did you just punch me?!"
She smirks, shrugging her shoulders and snapping her fingers, her little group of blonde bitches following her as she walks away. Soon the hallway clears, the bell rings and students file into classrooms. I make my way to the bathroom, hot tears running down my sore face. I open the handicap stall and sit on the floor, not at all caring about what diseases and germs are on it. I sob into my knees, my whole body shaking. I don't understand what I ever did to deserve the feeling of being unwanted and unloved. What's the point of even trying? No one besides my family and Melody even try to get to know who I am. I mean I know I'm not the most attractive, but I have feelings. Do they not understand that?
Shortly after my crying session, I stand up and look in the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy, my skin pink and splotchy along with a purple bruise beginning to form directly under my right eye.
"Shit," I curse as I touch the throbbing skin. I pull out my makeup bag and apply some concealer and foundation to my face to try and decrease the amount of puffiness under my eyes and the visibility of the bruise.
"Penelope Gray, please report to the office," I hear from the overhead speakers.
"Ughhhh damn it,"I groan. Today has just been fantastic so far.
