The Rebel

My name is Anita Ritzman.
I'm your cliche bad girl/punk:
I have raven-black hair with streaks, an eyebrow ring, skull earrings, black lace up boots, ripped up black jeans, a punk band T-shirt, and an oversized worn out black leather jacket Grandpa Ritz gave me.
People are generally afraid of me, and I'm not just talking about my fellow classmates at Storybrooke High. Don't think I haven't seen those overprotective moms walking the long way when they see me coming. I see kids scattering in the park when I walk by. Sometimes it makes me feel powerful, but mostly it makes me feel worthless and helps me sink further into my depression and anxiety. What makes me different than everyone else? How can they just judge me for what I look like? I'm only dangerous when I'm in the mood. I have a soft spot for animals and I love double fudge ice cream.
I'm just plain old Anita.
Well, not exactly.
Most people call me the Rebel.
And you can probably guess how I got that name...