I'm Just A Kid

I'm just a kid, I know that it's not fair.

I got off of the bus, and walked into the school gym doors. At least I have friends who treat me right.
I took off my hood, and placed my bag near the wall under the basketball hoop. I walked out of the gym doors, towards the office. I rounded the corner and was close to the school kitchen area. I took a left and was in the cafeteria/multi purpose room. Most of the time I would spent my morning before school, at break before 3rd period, and lunch, right before Math class in that room. It was pretty much the only time I could be with my friends that weren't in my homeroom class.
I walked back into the gym when none of my friends were in the cafeteria. Another bus had arrived and I saw Chelsee step off of the bus in front of it. I always smiled around her, she has a certain spirit that made others happy. She opened the gym door and then I realized she didn't look too happy. She kept her hood on, even though it was against school rules to wear them in the building. She stormed past everyone else and started walking towards me. I didn't know if I should ask her what was wrong, or just let her pass by.
I saw the sadness in her eyes and let her walk by.
I slowly turned around to see her, even though she had already turned around the corner. I took a deep breath and turned back around.
Brett and Patience walked in the gym doors, laughing like always. I walked over to them.
“Hey.” I said to both of them before I yawned. “Did you see Chelsee?” Patience asked, almost in a whisper. “Yeah, what's her problem?” I responded. “I don't know, but she looked pissed off when she got off the bus.” Patience said. “Yeah did you see her face it was like, gawr!” Brett said as he made a face and put his hands up as claws. I laughed, then turned back to Patience, “I think somethings wrong though, I mean she's never like this.” I said shaking my head.
I could tell something else was on Patience's mind, and she wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying.
Chelsee walked back into the gym and started walking over to me, I just wanted her to be happy.
She stood in front of me, she didn't even acknowledge Brett or Patience. She slowly reached for my arm, “Can I talk to you?” she whispered. “Of course.” I said and we walked away from everyone else and towards the locker rooms. She stopped in front of the boys locker room door.
“Are you alright?” I asked, just wanting to know why she was like this. “It's about my dad, he was a total bastard this morning.” I didn't really know exactly what to say but “Why?” She pulled up her shirt to cover more of her chest, “He said I looked like a whore, and grounded me.” “You look fine,” I told her, I pushed her hair from her face, “He took your hair straightener also didn't he?” I asked playfully. She nodded with a smile on her face. “You look fine, and trust me, you ain't no whore.” I told her.

The bell rang.

...
I sat in my desk thinking about my dad. I pulled down my sleeves and put my hood on. Everyone else was talking with their friends, getting last minute reports done.
I placed my head down on my desk, wondering how my mood would be the rest of the day.
I looked up just as my teacher walked in. Mr. Miller.

Sometimes when I was at school I totally forgot about things at home, things seemed somewhat normal.

7th period-Literature.

“Everyone here?” Miller asked. I looked around the room noticing some desks were still empty. “Just the usuals.” I whispered to myself A faint smile came to his face, “of course not” he said.
The popular girls were always late to class. The were in the bathroom checking their hair, and, or texting.
“Everyone get paper and a pencil, we're doing a writing assignment today.” Miller announced. I felt a smile come to my face, we almost never did literature. Most of the 7th graders groaned, all the boys wanted to do was talk about fishing and hunting, while the girls just wanted to copy the answers from me; the 8th graders got their work done.
Literature was the only time the 7th graders had to actually do their own work.

I looked around for paper, taking a glance at the desk right next to me. I never had paper, or pencils... or anything else that you actually needed for school. “Here.” the girl sitting at the desk said, as she took a piece of paper from her notebook and placed it on my desk. “Thanks.” I replied without looking at her.
“Today we're all going to write about your parents.” Miller started to say. “Shit.” I whispered, wiping my bangs from my eye. The girl in front of me turned around and looked at me. “What was that?” Miller asked. I felt everyone in the classroom look at me. “Uhm.” I looked Miller in the eye, being hesitant on what to say, “Nothing, I'm just glad that we're actually doing Literature today.” I said somewhat quietly, making sure not to show emotion in my face.
“Crap.” I thought to myself. “What am I supposed to write about my parents...”
I knew I was a good writer, some even said I was brilliant, but I hated writing about real life situations.
“10 minutes, then pass your papers to the front of your rows.” Miller announced.

I placed my head back down on my desk and placed my pencil in my right hand, I turned my head so I could see the blank piece of paper on the desk and wrote my name.

I didn't know where to start.

I titled my paper “Parents” and started to work my magic.

“My parents.
Well my parents are very....”
I shook my head and erased it. It just didn't seem right to go in the direction I was.

I restarted.

“I honestly don't know what to write so I'm gonna wing it, sorry if this isn't what you wanted Miller, this is what you're getting.
I don't know my real parents and I'd rather not write about the parents I have now. So I'm going to tell you what I picture about my real parents.
My mom is very loving, and the reason I'm so tall. She works at some type of business and makes sure the time she has at home is spent being more of a friend then a parent.
My dad is playful and caring. He calls me his “little Italian girl” and lets me make my own decisions. He's home more then my mom and is a fantastic cook.
Both of my parents have had drug and alcohol problems in the past, but they got through it and I think that them working so hard to become better people is a good example for me.”

I dropped my pencil, and yawned, making a tear fall from my eye. I placed my hood back over my head. “No hoods.” Miller said. I looked up and saw him looking at me. I hesitantly took my hood off, continuing to look at him while he continued to look at me. I finally looked away and glanced around the classroom. “Are you finished?” I heard Miller ask. “Yep.” I said, not even looking to see if he was speaking to me. He only asked me that question, he knew no one else would finish.
“Bring it to the front please.” he said placing his hand out for my paper. I looked back down at my paper. “I thought we were supposed to pass them to the front of the rows?” I asked without looking up. “Well if no one else is going to finish then I think I only need to pick up yours.” he responded.
I read my paper one last time and walked to the front of the class where he was sitting. “There.” I told him as I placed the paper in his hand. “Thank you.” he said; I took it sarcastically. I gave him a smirk, not a nice one, and turned away.

He knew I was messed up. He just didn't know how badly.

I had my moments where all I wanted to do was succeed in my work, I also had my moments where I really couldn't care less what my grades were.
I can get pissed off really easy. It also doesn't take much to cheer me up.
I put my hood on, even though I knew they weren't allowed in school, and even though I wanted so badly to just bang my head on my desk, I gently placed my forehead on the desk and closed my eyes.

Nobody cares 'cause I'm alone in the world.