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These girls are so pathetic, I thought. No, vampire boy isn't real and he isn't going to fall in love with you; he's going to reel you in with his dapper looks, look you deep in your excited, lustful eyes, and rip your throat out. Same with sexy, breathtaking, orgasm inducing werewolf boy. He just wants to eat you. Those books are full of shit. They tell you nothing of love, and if you believe them, I swear you're a complete imbecile. Rude and temperamental babbles continued in my head as I grabbed my math book and notebook from my locker. The last few students were rushing to their first hour. Our teacher was always late by about ten minutes, so I graciously took my time.

I'm actually psycho about school, getting good grades and whatnot. That's what my parents expect of me: perfect grades, flawless record, healthy lifestyle, and college already picked out. I've only just started my Junior year and I already want tot gauge my eyes out. I began to head to my glass. Unfortunately, two football meat-heads were hanging by their lockers, discussing, no... just chatting, about footballs and girls who they found hot. They're too thick-skulled to actually hold a discussion or something that sounds even remotely intelligent. They're pathetic. And of course they spotted me.

Target: locked. Swoop in and destroy. Or try to.

"Well hey there, Aria," James sneered at me as he leaned his forearm on the locker. "Should I join band this year? I could definitely blow that trumpet like you do. Maybe that'll just increase my skills." He winked obnoxiously and gave me a cocky smile.

"You sound so fucking gay, man," Anthony chuckled, tugging on his purple and white letterman jacket.

"What? That's clearly her thought process," James said, pointing his chin in my direction.

"Go to hell," I muttered, briskly walking passed them.

"I am!" James yelled. "Math class with you!"

Assholes, I thought. They should just get hit by a bus or something.

Of course, the tap, tap of sneakers quickly came up behind me. I figured it was James or Anthony coming up to pester me again. I prepared myself and whirled around, only to stop abruptly from smacking my raised hand into the face of my closest and best friend.

"Jesus!" Will said, dodging underneath my arm. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Sorry," I murmured, averting my eyes and dropping my hand. "I thought you were James."

"I'm sorry," he said, wrapping an arm around my waist. "But the last time I checked, I don't have douchebag dripping from my pores."

I smiled and turned to face him. "Don't you have to get to Spanish?"

"Yeah, but I think Señor Lazaro can wait a few minutes." He smirked and ran a hand through his tousled hair. I always liked his hair. It was unique; a light blond/ginger. Even strawberry blond wasn't the proper word to describe it. I wish I could. It fell just around his pale green eyes in the best way possible. He was roughly a foot taller than me and slim. He's a karate kid, black belt and all.

"Señor Lazaro no le va a gustar. Pero te agradezco," I spoke to him with the slightest hint of an accent.

"What?" He looked at me with absolute confusion.

"I said that he won't like it. But I appreciate you."

A smile spread across his face. "Lazaro can wait, like I said. And I'm glad you do."

And just like that, the bell rang.

"Dammit, I need to go," I said, pulling away from him. "I'll see you in third hour!" I sprinted down the hall and hastily strode into the classroom.

After I sat in my seat, I laid my head on my crossed arms. Trig kills me and everyone in this class knows it's complete bullshit. Seriously it's commonly asked, but who the hell uses this stuff? Sine, cosine, and tangent don't even make any sense. Teachers always give a lengthy explanation or just ignore it all together. But every other sensible adult will tell you that you will never use it. Like I said, Bullshit.

Mrs. Clark finally entered the room, yanking off her black winter trench coat and tossed it on her chair. She had always been an unusual teacher. She always had her coal black hair pulled back into a messy bun, allowing some hair fall in front of her face. She never wore makeup but had on square glasses. Today, she was sporting dress pants and a maroon silk top. That all is very normal, but she constantly gets off topic. One moment, we're solving trigonometric equations, and then BAM, full-on discussion on why she thinks that native Irishmen are the coolest beings in the universe.

She grabbed a stack of graded tests on her desk and started handing them back to us. Mine came back to me with a sticker and A written neatly at the top. I was never surprised or excited about getting these kinds of grades anymore; they were basically inevitable. Even when I think I am absolutely horrible at a topic, I still manage to get one of the best grades in the class and am still in the top 10% of my class.

I'm so done with this, I thought. Can I just go home now?

It sometimes amazed me how quickly my mood could change. One moment, I'm livid. The next, elated. Right after, one depressed mother fucker. It sucked. And no one really knew about it. Why would I be that girl who would go around and talk to someone about how fucked up my mind is? No one really cares, and those who try to are usually just nosey little bastards. I don't take too kindly to people like that. I can't help myself. I don't deal with bullshit.

The rest of the school day was bullshit.

After math was American lit. We're reading Huckleberry Finn and I'm sorry, Mark Twain, but that book really sucks ballsacks. I can hardly comprehend what they're saying half the time and the story is all over the place. Personal finance followed and there's no need to go into too much detail about that: football coach for a teacher, douchebag football players, boring, long-ass videos from Dave Ramsey. Band didn't suck so much. Our teacher, Mr. Harris, is pretty chill. I've known his since fifth grade, and he's more like a friend than a teacher. After picking at my lunch, I had Spanish followed by a reading class and music theory. It's a pretty easy-ass schedule, but still total bullshit because I never do anything.

I fucking hate this school.

The final bell rang and I practically sprinted to my car. Unbeknownst to me, Will was waiting by my car. He flashed a cocky half-smile while I strode up the sidewalk.

"You look pissed," he mused.

"Only at every being in the area."

"Ouch," he said, pretending that I had shot him in the chest. He dramatically clasped his hands to his heart and fake-died.

"Oh shut up, will you?" I unlocked my car and hopped into the driver's seat. Will slipped into the passenger's and waited silently as I ignited the engine and flipped to my favorite radio station.

"So what are we going to do, Love?"

Die.

I wondered for a moment if that's something I really wanted to do. The thought of Death's embrace chilled my spine. On some days, it seems to be the most comforting thought that will go through my mind. On others, my "lucky days", it's one of the most scariest thoughts to pass. However, it isn't usually the worst.

I slapped on a smile and said, "Whatever you'd like."