Broken Bones, Broken Smiles, Broken Hearts
Tres
After lunch I seriously consider skipping. But it's the first day and I should at least try to make a good impression on my teachers. I laugh to myself, who knew I'd ever say that?
Maybe I can skip tomorrow. That's more like it.
As I walked into my next class, there she was. She was sitting at a desk far in the back, looking down at her hands. I hate how I was so intrigued by her; She was like a safe that I just wanted to crack open, by I didn't know the code.
There were only two open seats in the classroom, one in the front and one near the back. I definitely wasn't going to sit in the front so I opted for the second seat. It a few desks away from Dottie and I couldn't help but keep glancing at her.
Her bright red hair covered her face as she slouched in her seat. Her hair was the only "outgoing" thing about her. It surely couldn't be natural and looks like it draws a lot of attention, or at least use to.
She was wearing a dark purple dress, that ended right above her knees. She had a black cardigan over it and little black shoes.
"Welcome to Pre-Calc," the teacher says. I started to groan.
------
The bell rings and I wake up from my slumber. I missed yet another lesson, and I'm not surprised. That's just a usual Tuesday for me. Most of the class had already left, except for a few people. I grab the few things I have and leave the room, happy to only have one period left in the day.
Between the crowd of students moving from class to class, I see Dottie. Even though she's pretty short, her red hair is hard to miss.
I see her red hair duck down and as I get closer, I see her picking papers and books. Usually, I'd just pass by or maybe even kick their notebook down the hall just to give them hell a little. But I walk over and kneel down, helping her grab her books. She doesn't look at me, but tries to get her books faster. I snatch the last paper that has fallen and her hand grabs it at the same time. The sleeve of her cardigan slides down her arm a little and that's when I notice the bruises. Handprints. Human hands. She notices her wrists, and gets up, running down the hallway, the paper still in my hand.
The bell rings and I know I'm late for class but I don't care. I'm just horribly angry for a girl that I don't even know. All because of those bruises, those horrible bruises.
Who would do such a thing?
Maybe I can skip tomorrow. That's more like it.
As I walked into my next class, there she was. She was sitting at a desk far in the back, looking down at her hands. I hate how I was so intrigued by her; She was like a safe that I just wanted to crack open, by I didn't know the code.
There were only two open seats in the classroom, one in the front and one near the back. I definitely wasn't going to sit in the front so I opted for the second seat. It a few desks away from Dottie and I couldn't help but keep glancing at her.
Her bright red hair covered her face as she slouched in her seat. Her hair was the only "outgoing" thing about her. It surely couldn't be natural and looks like it draws a lot of attention, or at least use to.
She was wearing a dark purple dress, that ended right above her knees. She had a black cardigan over it and little black shoes.
"Welcome to Pre-Calc," the teacher says. I started to groan.
------
The bell rings and I wake up from my slumber. I missed yet another lesson, and I'm not surprised. That's just a usual Tuesday for me. Most of the class had already left, except for a few people. I grab the few things I have and leave the room, happy to only have one period left in the day.
Between the crowd of students moving from class to class, I see Dottie. Even though she's pretty short, her red hair is hard to miss.
I see her red hair duck down and as I get closer, I see her picking papers and books. Usually, I'd just pass by or maybe even kick their notebook down the hall just to give them hell a little. But I walk over and kneel down, helping her grab her books. She doesn't look at me, but tries to get her books faster. I snatch the last paper that has fallen and her hand grabs it at the same time. The sleeve of her cardigan slides down her arm a little and that's when I notice the bruises. Handprints. Human hands. She notices her wrists, and gets up, running down the hallway, the paper still in my hand.
The bell rings and I know I'm late for class but I don't care. I'm just horribly angry for a girl that I don't even know. All because of those bruises, those horrible bruises.
Who would do such a thing?
♠ ♠ ♠
So, I'm sorry if this chapter's a little late and a little short. Hopefully the next chapter will come a little sooner. And maybe even a little longer. I really don't have this story mapped out. I'm just going with whatever comes to mind as I write. I'm not much of a planner.Enjoy.