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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1893828-Casualty-of-the-Hopeless
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by Tommye Author IconMail Icon
Rated: · Chapter · Death · #1893828
Chapter 1 of my first ever book.
It was always the same. When you start at a new school people are helpful and make you feel welcome. As soon as they get to know you they change. For me it was always like this. I would settle somewhere and people would suddenly take no notice of me, including teachers. That was if I was lucky. Most of the time I would get picked on and pushed about by other pupils and even by teachers in some cases. I just didn’t fit in anywhere and was always the outsider. I didn’t see how this new school was going to be any different.
It was raining again. It had been for a few days now. Like a message, warning me of the events that will come to pass. My guardian had dropped me off by the bus stop so I was dripping rainwater all over the bus which didn’t seem to bode too well with the driver. He told me to scram so I spent the next half hour walking to school in the rain. I could sense people jeering at me as they drove past. Smug bastards, driving in their cute little Aston Martins and their high tech gadgets. I’ll show them, I’ll show them what it’s like to be at the bottom.
Before I carry on, let me explain myself to you. I’m what the stereotype would call an ‘Emo’. I wear black, skinny clothes; white face paint, black eyeliner and black nail polish. I listen to the typical hard-core music of the stereotype as well as writing it myself. This is the reason I am picked on and people don’t like having much to do with me, I’m different. I like being different but when people disagree with my identity they think it’s ok to destroy it. I am normally very quiet and like to keep out of everyone’s way because if someone does pick a fight or decide to tease me then I can’t do anything about it. I’m not strong enough, mentally or physically.
The new school was old, really old. Apparently it was their 500th anniversary for the foundation of the school. I doubted anyone really cared. No one ever does. As I walked along the corridor, following my guide I had been assigned, I could see all the trips and expeditions the different year groups had been on. There was a lot of work on the boards too; they obviously liked to keep busy. My new tutor group looked up as I slid into the room, dragging my feet heavily behind me like a sloth stuck in thick mud. The class all looked back at their music players and phones once they’d had a good look at me. They were probably thinking that I was just another new kid, another nobody. Nothing different there. Maybe this place was going to be the same as the rest after all.
I settled down at the back next to a pretty girl. Her hair was luscious brown with beautiful highlights. Her eyes were a gorgeous, mellow hazel colour. Her face had a somewhat luminous tone to it. She had sweet lips like cupids bow. Her magnetism was irresistible, and I was weaponless in the face of it.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1893828-Casualty-of-the-Hopeless