I grab my bag as I walk out the door and climb onto my bike. I speed to the school and park next to the same white jeep I always park next to. The sun is just beginning to clear the horizon and the thick fog built up tons of condensation on the front of my helmet. I put the all black helmet on the silver handlebar and run my fingers through my hair to hopefully counter act the helmet hair. I take off my black leather jacket, toss it on the seat, and throw my neon green Nike backpack over my shoulder. I sigh. Ever since my best friend Matthew Hartford died, I've been a loner. I'm only a loner because I'm not too nice to people. I don't mind it, but everybody acts afraid of me. One football player occasionally talks to me and we play catch sometimes. He was held back two years too, so we have that in common I guess. He came here last year though, so he wasn't in my class or anything like that. He got here a couple days after Matt died, so I was super mean to people at that time. Anyway, he texted me last night, asking if I could stay after school for a little while and help him practice his throws. I told him I would, that my parents wouldn't care. That's the thing, Ryder and I didn't speak to them for 2 years when they first adopted us. My father was a drug addict and when I was 5, he shot my mom in the backyard and put a bullet through his own head in their bedroom. As I walk in the door, the bell rings, signaling our first class. I take my seat in the back next to this nerdy chick that just sits there the whole hour. I don't even know her name. I don't know how she's in here either. The only thing I'm good at is math and this is a senior advanced calculus class. She's in all my other classes too so I know she has to be a junior like me. She wears glasses, converse, oversized hoodies, and band shirts almost everyday. I would say that I tried to talk to her at least once, but that would be a lie. I only care about myself and Ryder-the only people that matter. She only talked to me once and that was to ask me for a pencil. I didn't have a pencil for her so she just looked at me for a second and shrugged, turning back to her book. That was the second day of school and she hasn't spoken a word since.
YOU ARE READING
Keeping the Bad Boy
Teen FictionCourtney Taylor is a normal fangirl that encounters the hottest-and meanest-boy there is. She loves her fictional, perfect boys but seems to find one in real life... but is he as perfect as he seems? Will his long, horrific past scare her away, or b...