How to be Emo

I placed my backpack on the floor, slamming my note that said I had this hell for a week on the detention teachers table. I got out my iPod and stuck the earphones in my ears. I played my music loudly, hoping to have someone tap their foot to the songs.

I put my feet up on the desk, leaning back, and got out of cell phone.

I texted Leon:

How are you doing sexy?

My phone dinged when I got a text back:

Just fine, babe. Aren’t you in the hellhole, right now???

I smiled and replied:

Yeah. I miss you.

Before I could get his next text, the woman tore it out of my hands, along with my headphones. I glared at her, snatching them both back, getting my backpack and leaving the classroom. I gave her the finger before slamming the door shut.

I ran out of school until I came to the park. I stopped to get a breath. I didn’t realize I was crying until I fell to my knees sobbing.

This was stupid! What was the whole point of being something I’m not? Trying to be rebellious when I’m only scared. Who am I really?

I wiped away my tears, stood up, and let out a deep breath. I wasn’t going to be weak—I couldn’t be like my Mother. I started to walk home, hoping just to get upstairs and sleep.

I quietly opened the front door and almost tip-toed upstairs. I came to my room and slowly closed the door. I put my desk chair under the knob and lay on my bed.

Of course I was scared my Mom would slap me again, but I all ready had an acceptance to Yale, so I just needed to get three more credits and I was outta here!