The Pros and Cons of Being Alice Turner

Chapter 1

It's hard to be inspirational. I guess I should be wise after the crap I've been through, right? Or maybe I should just stay stupid the way ninth graders should be.
I was told to write something that would make people re-look their lives and 'remember their relationship with the story.' What the hell does that even mean?
She closed her notebook with a sigh and turned up her music, no longer caring if her Geometry partner heard it. It's not like they were actually 'partners'; more like strangers that sit next to each other because "Here we are friends and we can work well together!"
It made her sick. Teachers thought that just because they could changed your A into an F in a snap that they could force you to be friends. Bunch of Sadists.
Alice was your typical 'goth'. Black, choppy hair to the small of her back, excessive fringed bangs, nails with ugly, worn black polish, dark clothes, fishnets; the works. Sure, she listened to metal and rock and alternative, but with her it was mostly what sounded good.
Her blue eyes skimmed every person as she passed through the hallways for Biology class, quietly picking out the cute ones, the not-my-type ones, the different social groups. None of them knew her. She was a ghost.
As she practically collapsed in her chair at the back of the class, she noticed a short-haired, green eyed, short girl glancing at her. Wonder what she'll criticize me about.
The girl didn't look over at Alice at all the rest of class, and Alice couldn't help but think that this girl was attractive, but she was obviously a shy girl through and through, no doubting it.
As Mr. Duffield handed out packets, he didn't fail to mention "oh yes, and you'll be working in pairs." Every word was like a knife, and Alice winced at that word 'pairs'. As the teacher passed her, he told her, "Don't worry, you can work alone."
She smiled a bit at this relief. Mr. Duffield was just about the only teacher not being a total asshat about her refusal to socialize.
'You'll have to to talk to co-workers' 'you can't just choose to stay quiet' 'how do you expect to make anything of yourself'. Way to encourage me.
As Alice finished counting alleles, she pulled out her notebook and added to her 'story'.
Maybe what I need is love(ha) and then I can't make people cry and clap after they close their books. Maybe if I wasn't such a fuck up, I could write this. F here we come.
She spent the rest of period writing poetry and doodling all over it. She made a list at one point of pros and cons of being 'The Alice Turner.'
Cons: shitty mother, dickhead father, sadist teachers, post-depression, various insults every other hour, physically repelling because of my sexuality, lonely, friendless, no social life, right-out jerk, heartless, monster, denying mother, no medication to numb the soul-crushing realization that my life is going nowhere.
Pros: mildly attractive body and face-wise, good poetry, others yet to be found.
With the last pen stroke and clap of her crazed thoughts on pages closing, the final bell rang.
Sitting alone, as per the norm, on the bus with music blasting over the crappy pop on the radio, Alice thought about possibly making a school setting for her assignment: It was a nice spring breeze as I walked into my (crappy) school. I saw the faces of many (hateful) people as I went to find my friends.
She stared at the word friends for an entire song before continuing.
We(I) made our(my) way to the library with our(my) typical morning ritual. Sitting at a table and chatting was always heard in the mornings. (It's all so annoying) The bell sounded, not quite sounding like a bell but more like....
She forgot what the bell sounded like. For almost fifteen weeks she heard that bell six times a day, and yet she couldn't describe it.

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"I was thinking of writing about a teen dealing with high school who constantly screams in her head and is going insane as each day drags on." She nonchalantly told Ms. Weathers, the acting English teacher for her this trimester.
Ms. Weathers frowned as if her only concern was how unoriginal the idea was. "I can't wait to read it." Is what the teacher said, but what Alice heard was 'I can't wait to show every therapist in the state, but since there's no fixing this, we'll just never tell you and you could show up with a gun and shoot everyone and we could say we expected it.'