Punching Bag [H.S]

Chapter 1.

School fucking sucks.

I already want to leave and it's barely 8:45.

I don't want to be here.

First days at a new school always sucks shit and trust me, I would know I've had my fair share of them. I'm trying to decide what's worse about the first day at a new school; waking up and realising you actually have to go to a brand-new hell hole,

"Ashton! Get your ass out of bed or you're gonna make me late!" Logan shouted from outside of my door, while I just replied with a mumbled fuck off from beneath my covers. Which in hindsight wasn't the brightest idea which I quickly realised when I ended up soaked in ice cold water and an amused Logan staring down at me holding a cup in his hand.

or walking down the corridor for the first time by yourself with every teenagers' judgemental stare on you, trying to sus out the new kid.

... definitely waking up in the morning. I couldn't care less about what the kids here thought of me. I wasn't here to make friends; I was here to finish year 12 so I can finally fuck off and get my brother off of my back.

I did my best to ignore all the stares and whispers directed towards me. They think that I can't hear them cause I've got my headphones in.

Well surprise fuckers, I'm not listening to anything.

I can hear every word that they're saying;

Who is that?

That's that new kid Ashton or whatever her name is, I heard she got expelled from her old school and got arrested for something.

Ew what is she wearing?

I know right? It looks like she came straight from the homeless shelter, except those shoes, she probably stole them.

I just role my eyes and keep walking. Just cause I'm not a little preppy princess like all the other girls that go here apparently gives them a justification to pick everything about me apart.

If I like what I am wearing and am comfortable with it, everyone else's opinions are about as valuable as dog shit to me. Honestly what I was wearing isn't even bad.

I decided to keep it lowkey for my first day, not wanting to draw any extra attention to myself and decided to go with an oversized white graphic t-shirt, baggy blue jeans and my white Jordan's'. I didn't even wear as much jewellery and makeup as I normally would; keeping it simple with a chain with a lock hung low around my neck, a bracelet and a few chunky rings on my fingers. Going for a more natural makeup look of just mascara and concealer, leaving my dark brown hair to fall to my shoulders.

I have to control my anger towards the one girl who made the comment about my shoes. Anyone that makes any comments and assumptions about my financial situation is asking to get in a scrap, and trust me, it wouldn't work out well for them. My family doesn't have a lot of money, so what? I work hard and earn my money, fair and square.

Even if it's not always legal.

At least I don't ask my daddy for money like most of these rich snobby chicks.

I continue to make my way towards the office where I'm meant to get my new timetable when I suddenly hear a loud thud and someone shouting. I turn the corner cautiously and see a guy holing a smaller kid by the shirt up against the wall.

The bigger guy was at least 5"11, towering over the poor guy that was probably around 5"8. He was built and looked athletic and I would bet any money that he played basketball, probably ran point guard. He had messy brown hair and darker brown eyes that stared straight into the icy blue eyes of the smaller guy. His hair was almost bleach blonde, swept off to the side of his face and he had braces on his already straight looking teeth.