One Game

2.Done

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

What the hell..???

"Shit." The only thing keeping me from smashing the creator of the sound is that it's my phone.
Walking out of bed, my feet touch the cold hard floors of my room. I shuffle across the hall into the bathroom to do the duty. Walking out of the bathroom I bump into my dad.
"Sorry didn't see you." I state
"Of course you didn't. You're half asleep" he jokes "I don't know how you do it Jo."

Ahhhhh the infamous nickname Jo. Jo Jo Jo Jo. I've always hated that name. You learn to live with if you've been only called by it. They only call me Joanna if the situation is deadly. Which it never is, they just do it to annoy me.

I walk back to my room and change for the day. Black, black, black is all I see when open my closet. Just kidding, I'm not that dark. My only escape of the world is clothes besides pool. I slip on a sleeveless black shirt that says 'I don't trust me either' with a skeleton hand fingers crossed in the middle. Paired that with some black ripped jeans, black rose earrings, a couple bracelets, a Ying Yang chocker and walk out. I'm really not that dark, trust me. I just feel bad today. (imagine that with an evil laugh in the background so I don't sound crazy)

Checking the time and seeing 6:56 on my screen, I rush down stairs and grab a banana. I tell my dad and Darrel bye, well scream not tell and head for my truck. My truck is my only thing I have left of my mom. Apparently she became a big star while in California so she makes big bucks. Occasionally she sends me money but I don't care. The only thing I like that she got me was a custom made red and camouflage interior Dodge Ram Truck. It's my most prized possession.

Skipping the boring ride to school because I know you don't want to hear that. You guys are only reading to hear the good stuff.

Grabbing my bag out the passenger seat I proceed to head into hell. Yay what fun! Note sarcasm. *Warning-You'll be hearing a lot of that.*

"Like what is she wearing." "That's so last year." "I can't believe she would even."
Even what?? Be caught dead talking to you guys. I laugh to myself knowing that I'm one funny gal. I walk through the halls to my locker and grab my books for first block.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Listen up class!!! Today we will be working on a class project that will take almost the last few months of school. So pair up stupids." Mr.Scott says
What kind of project takes 4 months? I don't know but if there was one out there he would find it. That's why he's my favorite teacher. It's helps that he teaches my favorite subject: American Government.

"JOOOO!" Screams Rebekah
"BEKSS!" Waving my hands in the air.
Rebekah has been my best friend since the sixth grade. She's around so much my dad considers her a second daughter. We practically do everything together. She knows everything about me and same goes for me about her. Rebekah is like the sister I never had but really wanted! We have two classes together everyday:1st and 4th then 5th and 6th.
Where ever we go people don't like us. We're either too loud, too hyper or too girly.

This is our favorite class together because Mr.Scott lets us get aways with anything. We could literally kill someone and ask him to the body in his car and he would say yes. Beks and I push his buttons every now and then but he just lets whatever we've done slide.

After minutes of laughing at some kid that just slipped on some gooy shit in front of us, we decided to to work.
"Okay, let's do this." she said
"Okay......what are we doing? " I giggle.
Oopps trigger sentence.
Here comes more laughing. Any teacher that has me and Beks in their class can tell you we never get work done on time. LIKE EVER. We'll giggle and make fun of things until we realize that there is 30 minutes of class left. You've never seen anyone work as fast as us. We never fail to get nothing less than a 'B' every time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the day flies by. I plug in my headphones and walk out to the student lot. Once I get to my truck I rev the engine just for the fun of it and pull off smiling.
School: Done

"Dad...Darrel...." I scream as I walk through the back door into the apartment. No answer. They're probably downstairs. I put my stuff on the counter and walk to the fridge. When I close the fridge I take in that the kitchen is clean. Huh..... dad never cleans. Must of been Darrel. You must be thinking 'Bikers are mean , they don't clean. They're just insensitive little bastards.' Yeah that couldn't be any farther from the truth. Bikers aren't mean and insensitive. They're caring and kind-hearted. They just seem that way because that's how they have been portrayed for decades. To tell you the truth, they don't like the stereotype at all. If they could get rid of it they would.

Finishing my thoughts I walk downstairs to the bar. Two seventeen on a Thursday and all that's here are the usuals. Saying my hellos on the way to the pool table I pick up the stick and put chalk on the tip.
*Two hours and fifteen minutes later*
*DING DING*
The bells to the bar door chirp and I don't bother to look because it's probably just some old man looking for a drink.