Give My Heart To Him

"Sometimes I don't wanna be better
Sometimes I can't be put back together
Sometimes I find it hard to believe
There's someone else who could be
Just as messed up as me

Sometimes don't deny
That everything is wrong
Sometimes rather die
Than to admit it's my fault
Sometimes when you cry
I just don't care at all
I don't know why I do the things I do to you but...

Sometimes I don't wanna be better
Sometimes I can't be put back together
Sometimes I find it hard to believe
There's someone else who could be
Just as messed up as me

I want someone to hurt
Like the way I hurt
It's sick but it makes me feel better"

My alarm clock started blasting "Sometimes" by Skillet, telling me it was time to wake up. I threw my black comforter over my face, in an attempt to not have to get up so early. But when the song ended, I knew I had to get out of bed. I pulled myself out of bed, turned the light on, then squinted in the sudden light. I walked over to where my vanity was. I looked in the huge mirror at my reflection. I saw a girl with pale skin and black hair that went to her shoulders. I looked at my hair. It was in a ruffled mess because I had just woken up. I plugged my hair straightener in. While I waiting for it to warm up, I combed through my hair quickly, then started getting dressed. I put my plain gray V-neck shirt on, then a pair of black skinny jeans. A plain black corset went on over my shirt. I suppose people could call me gothic, but I honestly don't care. I put some black studded belts on. I slipped on some long black mesh fingerless gloves. Then I put a few studded leather bracelets on. A couple beaded black necklaces and a black cross was the only accessories left. My straightener beeped then, telling me it was ready. I pinned the top layers of my hair up then straightened the lower layers. Then I let the rest of my hair down and straightened those layers too. Soon my hair was straight as a pin. I pinned the hair that normally hung in my eyes to the side so I could do my makeup. First, I paled out my face witch a basic pale foundation. A bit of powder blended it in. Some dark eyeshadow and black eyeliner outlined my eyes. A bit of red lip stain made my lips stand out as well. I slipped some black captive hoops into my snakebites. I looked at myself one last time before leaving my room.

I walked downstairs to the living room. Next to my computer was my black messenger bag. It had my binder in it, as always. I put my black sketchbook and drawing pencil case in the bag as well. Then I slung the bag over my right shoulder, grabbed my iPod, and headed to the bus stop. I may be a senior but my parents are too cheap to but me a car. And it isn't like we don't have the money, we're loaded, they just don't want to spend money on me. They just try to forget I exist most of the time. I took my time getting to the bus stop. I was early, and I didn't particularly want to feel the other kids stares for longer than I had to.

As the only person in this small town of Blackwater who didn't wear Abercrombie and Fitch, Aeropostle, or American Eagle clothes, I was subjected to many stares. And I had to hear every prep's loud-enough-to-hear whispers that always said something like "What a freak!" Although I didn't actually care what they thought about me, their audacity to say that when they knew I could hear and to stare shocked me.

When I reached the bus stop, I saw my mortal enemy. Stacy. Head cheerleader and bane of my existence. Unfortunately, also my neighbor. She has blond hair, which is pretty obviously dyed. She was dressed head to toe in a slutty outfit, a miniskirt and tank top. "Hello, emo fag," she said, in a sickly sweet voice, as a fake smile spread across her face.

I rolled my eyes. If anything, I was gothic, not emo. Not that I'm against emos, I'm against people's stereotypes about them. But two can play the game of insults. "Hey, preppy bitch," I replied.

The fake smile left her face and hatred filled her eyes. "Watch it, fag. I just got a manicure and I don't want to screw it up ruining your already hideous face. Haven't you heard of tanning?" she asked.

"Like you could beat me. You've never been in a fight with anyone. And I could say the same to you about hideous faces. Haven't you heard of skin cancer?" I replied.

The bus decided then to pull up. "Whatever, emo fag," she said as she got on the bus. She claimed the seat at the very back. I took the seat next to the emergency exit. I put my earbuds in and tried to ignore everyone's stares. I started blasting "Rip Tide" by Sick Puppies. I watched the forests of Blackwater outside the window until we reached school.

We were there all too quickly. Soon enough I was on the sidewalk outside school, again being stared at by everyone. I quickly headed to my locker, locker 13. How unlucky. It was far away from every class but the art class. I quickly put the combination into the lock. 27-31-05. I put my messenger bag into the locker, pulled out my Microbiology book, sketchbook, binder, and AP Calculus book, then headed into the art room. Mrs. Fenner was the art teacher. She had this hippie thing going on. She understood what it was like to be me, so she let me hang out in her room until homeroom ended to avoid stares. I sat down at the desk nearest the door.

Mrs. Fenner walked into the room, wearing a tie dye hippie sundress. She was holding a Starbucks coffee. She beamed at me. "Hello, Ava! Its nice to see you," Mrs. Fenner said. She said that every morning, but it was always nice to have one person in this school care that I was there.

I smiled back. "Its nice to see you too," I replied.

"Well, let's have a look at your sketchbook. Have to keep that excuse to have you here every homeroom going," she said, winking. She liked my artwork, and she knew I was a good artist, but on every pass she signed for me, she said my reason for not being in homeroom was "art help." She liked to see my art, and I was glad to have someone want to see my artwork.

"I did a sketch of Andy Six last night," I said. I took my sketchbook and flipped to the page where I had drawn it. Typically my art was just black and white, but I had made an exception for this. Andy's eyes were colored in, a stunning shade of blue.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" Mrs. Fenner said. I beamed, proud of my art. "I'd tell you to put this in the art show, but I think the principal wouldn't approve it.... Well, why don't you get started on another drawing?" she said.

"Okay, I think I'm going to draw Jayy Von Monroe today," I told her. She nodded, taking a long drink of her coffee. I started sketching Jayy's jaw. Then I added a rough outline of where his eyes, nose, and mouth should be. Then I used a darker pencil to outline his face and hair. I colored in the hair, using a paper towel to blend the color. All too soon, homeroom was over.

"Here's you pass," Mrs. Fenner said, handing me a slip of paper. I took it and headed to my microbiology class.

"Okay class, so today we're going to-" I cut Mr. Galespy off by knocking at the door. He glared at me. "Nice of you to join us, Miss Stark. Take your seat," he said, taking my pass.

I headed to my seat in the back corner by the window. This may be an advanced class, but it wasn't all that difficult to me. I rarely listened to the teacher. Instead I read the pages in the book, did the lab, and stared out the window. But today was somehow different. That's when i realized no one was staring at me. Or talking about me. They were all gossiping about something. I listened to the prep next to me. "OMG, did you see him? He's like, so gross!" she whisper shouted.

"I heard he transferred from a different school somewhere in California," another said.

A third person said, "Greg just texted me saying the new kid is in his homeroom. Oh, he sent me a pic! Ew, he's so pale, see?"

They all looked at the pic, passing the phone around. As far as I could tell, there was a new kid at school. This was somewhat interesting, there hadn't been a new kid in Blackwater since kindergarten.

The rest of the period passed in a blur, with intermittent whispers about the new kid. Second hour passed just as fast, and soon it was third hour. Art. Mrs. Fenner's class. That class passed pretty quickly. I like art and I'm good at it. soon enough, it was fourth hour and time for lunch. I went to my locker and put my textbooks away. I took my AP Chemistry, my music folder, and my Criminal Law books out, and then my sack lunch. I headed to the cafeteria. I took my normal place at the corner table in the cafeteria. No one ever sat next to me.

I slowly began eating my lunch and looking at the music for the next concert. I played first chair violin in the school's orchestra. The music was way easier than what my aunt had given me before she died. She had been an amazing violinist, and she always wanted to have kids who played the violin as well, but she never had any kids of her own. So she taught me to play violin when i was only five. I was good at it. When she died when I was fifteen, I didn't stop playing the violin. I kept playing and by now I was a bit better than the conductor of the orchestra. I was immersed in my extra music that I always kept in my folder, so I didn't notice him until he was already at my table.

"Can I sit here?" he asked. I looked up to see someone far different than anyone else I had ever seen in Blackwater. He had dark shaggy hair almost to his shoulders, pale skin, and he was wearing eyeliner. He had pale pink lips and stunning golden eyes. To sum it up, he was gorgeous.

"Um, sure," I said. "You must be the new student." He sat down next to me.

"Yeah. My name is Lucian," he said. Even his voice was beautiful.

"My name is Ava," I said.

"Well its a pleasure to meet you, Ava," he said. I liked the way my name rolled off his lips.

"Its nice to meet you too," I said.

The rest of lunch passed in silence, until the bell rang, signaling the end of A lunch. I stood up to head to my next classroom when Lucian took my arm, stopping me. "What's your next class?" he asked.That's when I noticed a small silver piercing on his tongue.

"AP Chemistry with Mr. Simms. You?" I asked.

"Same," he answered. He smiled. "Let's walk together," he said. I agreed, and we headed to the classroom.