I'm Just A Kid

I wasn't expecting to see Jordan at school that day, I wasn't even sure if he went to school.
I assumed he was in my grade, or at least hoped he was. It would've really sucked if he was a high schooler.
I decided to give up trying to be friends with people, like Patience, she never really wanted to talk to me, Brett wasn't really a friend, he just always followed Patience around.
Chelsee ... well I tried to pretend like I was never her friend in the first place.
When I checked the time inside of the school building it was 8:00, just in time to get dismissed to the classrooms.
I stood by the hall that led down to the classrooms, waiting for the 4th-8th graders to clear out. My school had around 300 kids all together. Kindergarten-8th grade. Small school.
The high school on the other side of the parking lot had around 350-400 kids, I couldn't wait to be done with 8th grade.
I watched how all the younger kids wanted down the hall first, and how the teenagers just trailed behind in groups.
We didn't have much variety at my school. We didn't have “jocks” he just had people that played sports, which didn't really matter since it was such a small school. We didn't really have “preps” just people who thought were cool, or popular and wore expensive clothes.
I was the only person who the others would call “Emo” which never bothered me. Emo is short for emotional, I just wish everyone understood that. Yes, I wore skinny jeans, never went outside of my house without my eyeliner, nor my hairspray. Even though I had many reasons to be depressed, I never let the other kids know.
The Counselor suspected I was cutting, and he was right. He talked to me about it, but he never made me quit.
I wear bracelets to cover up my scars; I never ever take them off.
People always ask why I wear them, why so many? I tell them that I like them. “Do you wear them in the shower?” “Do you sleep with them on?” Yes, what did you not get about never ever taking them off?
Finally all the kids were down the hallway, and not one person even seemed to acknowledge me. I pushed my bag up on my shoulder and started to walk down the hallway, which led to another.
I tried not to think about Father, I didn't want to get sad, or cry during school. I think that the people who cry when other people are around just want attention, and I don't want attention.
I went to my locker, 296 and set my bag on the ground. 26-48-16. I opened my locker and pushed my bag in, hoping it wouldn't fall right back out. I closed my locker and then immediately realized I needed my American History book. I sighed. 26-48-16. I reopened my locker, opening it slowly just in case my bag decided to fall out. I took my bag out and set it by my feet.
I heard someone call my name, but ignored it. I took out my book and reached down for my bag. I heard my name again. “What?” I said. “I'd like to talk to you about joining my class.”
I turned around, and saw Mrs. Johnson standing behind me. “Oh, sorry I thought you were like a kid or something.” I said, grabbing my locker door to close it. “:No, no don't close it.” She said as she grabbed the door and pulled it open again. “You drew these?” she asked as she pointed to the inside of my locker. I stared at my drawings, remembering the time I drew every single one. “Yeah.” I told her, still staring at the inside of my locker. “They're really good for someone your age.” she told me, with an encouraging smile. I looked at her, then back at my drawings, “Thanks, I tell myself I have a gift with art.” I said faintly. “It appears you do.” she said.
“My class is after school, and we don't have assignments, it's just free time to draw, paint, even get some pointers from me.”
I wasn't exactly paying attention to her, just staring at my drawings.
I pointed to the drawing of my dolphin.
“I drew that while I was supposed to be watching “Planet Earth” in class. It took me the whole class period.”
I pointed to another one, "That's a fire fox, I drew it while down at the track reading.”
She seemed to be listening to me, finding me interesting.
I continued to tell her about my drawings. How the colors told a story that only I understood, how the one word on the page told everything.

The bell rang, but I'm not sure if she noticed.

All of the kids ran to their classrooms while Mrs. Johnson and I stood in front of my locker, staring at my drawings.
“Mrs. Johnson, time to start.” A kid in front of her classroom told her. She looked behind her, “Did the bell ring already?” she asked. I nodded. “Alright, well think about the class, it's everyday after school, you don't have to come everyday though.” she told me kindly. Jordan was still in the back of my mind, but I still told her I would try and make it.
With one hand I grabbed my bag from the floor and shoved it in my locker, holding my book with the other hand.
I quietly opened the classroom door while announcements were being announced through the intercom, and for some odd reason, I started to think about Father.
Yes, I did hate the man, but that morning was different.
It was as if he was a new man, with a new purpose for life. Even though he had slapped me that morning, and he wasn't even drunk, I had a feeling he couldn't help it.
I never took the beatings personally, I knew he was drunk, or something else was wrong with him, I never told myself that it was my fault.
I took my book and dropped it on my desk, not caring if people stared at me. I looked up to see people looking at me like I had just shot someone. I sat down and put my hood on over my head and listened to the disgusting lunch we would be having that day.
So I'm not going to see Father for a while, I wonder how Mother will take it, she probably didn't know how bad of a condition he was in. Hopefully she doesn't freak out when I tell her. It's going to be so different without him home, how am I going to wake up for school now?
“Courtney, no hoods.” Miller told me. I ignored him.

I wonder if people at school are going to find out? The teachers always gossip, they're bound to find out sometime.

“No hoods.” Miller repeated. I over exaggerated my sigh, “I know.” I told him, not taking off my hood, I continued to look down at my desk.
The announcements were over and the classroom was quiet; some kids were whispering to each other.
“Please remove your hood.” He said. “I don't really feel like it right now, I'm chilly.” I told him, trying not to sound like an ass, but wanted to at the same time. I didn't want detention, I hated it.
“Do you want a minor tracker?” He asked. “No.” I replied as I shook my head, “I don't think anyone does.”
“Well your going to get one if you don't take your hood off, you know the rules.” He told me.
I got angry at him. I understood that he didn't know what I was going through, but wearing a hood inside of the school shouldn't be such a big deal, and usually he wasn't the type of teacher to enforce the rules so hard.
I glared at him while I slowly removed my hood, and placed my hands in my pockets.
He didn't even say thank you.
...
The rest of the day I tried so hard not to cry, I sat by myself at lunch, didn't participate in P.E, and I had forgotten my President report that morning, meaning I didn't get any credit for all the work I put into it.
Nothing was going right.
I sat in the back of the classroom, finishing chapter 19 of Inkheart, waiting to hear the dismissal bell over the intercom.
The rest of the class were on the computers, 7th period was 'free period.' Mr. Miller was always at his desk at the end of the day, sitting in front of his computer, entering grades.
“Courtney.”
I looked up. Miller was looking at me, I was guessing he was the one to call my name. I placed my bookmark on the last page of the chapter and closed the book.
I sat in the chair next to him, biting on my lip piercing. “Grades.” I said. “Yes, grades.” he replied, seeming disappointed.
“I know I don't do well, I don't need you to keep reminding me about that.” I told him. “But there are ways for you to do better-” he started to say, but I cut him off, “And you tell me every time what they are, it's not like I forget them.” I was starting to find him annoying.
He waited, then looked back at his computer. “You might not pass the 8th grade.” he told me sadly.
I had to remind myself to breath. I wanted to cry so bad, with everything going wrong, I felt like I could just break down right then and there. “Are you serious?” I said, even though I knew he wasn't kidding.
“The only class that you're passing is Literature.” he told me quietly. “What about my president report, if I bring it in, could you still give me credit for it?” I asked.
He would always tell the class it was the last day to present a project, but then the next day let kids still present and get graded.
“I could, but I'm not sure if that would be enough for your grade.” He said, pointing at the screen.
I knew I wasn't going to pass P.E, and I'm sure everyone else knew I wouldn't either. Math I could do better in, I just never finished my lessons.
“I'll work on Math tonight, get all my late assignments in.” I told him. “Good, you'll have about a B then.”
“What about Science?” I asked. “I'll tell you about that later.” he said as he looked up at the clock, making me look also.
“We'll talk about this tomorrow morning alright.” he said as the bell rang. I nodded and walked over to grab my book.
I grabbed my bag and Math book from my locker waiting for everyone else to walk by before I did.
I put my bag on my left shoulder, then remembered about Mrs. Johnson's Art class. I was standing outside of her door, wanting to walk away, but also wanting to enter the classroom.
I looked down the hallway at the same time I saw Jordan walk around the corner.
Just seeing him put a smile on my face. I fixed my hair and started walking towards him. His head was down but he eventually looked up and saw me.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked when we were in talking distance. He shrugged, “Just wanted to see you I guess,” he said, obviously joking.
“So you gonna be at school tomorrow?” I asked. “Not sure yet,” he replied, “My mom's up at the office right now, but I might not start school until this Monday.” he told me.
We started walking up the hall to the office. “Do you know what class you'll be in yet?” I asked, praying to god he'd say Mr. Miller. He shrugged again, “Not yet, but I hope it's yours, I saw the kids getting onto the buses; none of them really look like the type of friends I would have.” he said while he was fixing his hair.
I smiled when he said he hoped he was in my class, he was really friendly, and made me forget about my bad day.
“So, you still going to come over?” he asked. I thought for a second, “I have Math to do, I'm really far behind.” I told him. “Well you can do it at my place, if that's alright.” he told me.
It would be easier to do it at his house, I wouldn't get much done before Mother got home, and I bet it's really quiet at his house if it was just him and his mom.
“Alright, sure. Yeah I think that would be better then my house.” I told him.

We were outside of the office, I could see his mom talking to the Principal, who wasn't exactly on my good list.
“I guess we'll give you a ride then.” he said as we both sat down in the black chairs by the office.
I was surprised at how nice he was. His Mother really taught him to be courteous to others. I wasn't sure if he liked me or not though, maybe he treated me like he treated everyone else? I didn't want to tell myself he liked me just yet, I would hate to start liking him, then him not feel the same way.
My right arm and hand on was the arm rest, the chair he was sitting in shared the same one. I'm not sure if he noticed my hand was there before he did it, but he placed his hand right on mine.
And he kept it there.

“Want me to show you around?”