I Don't Mind If You're Overrated

I looked around a bit. It didn’t take me long to realize I was in a forest. It was dark, I could hardly see anything but the full moon and starry night sky. I searched my pockets for my cell phone to possibly light the pathway, but I was greeted with disappointment as I realized it wasn’t on me. I sighed, feeling exasperated. A strange noise rang out through the woods, and my attention was instantly grabbed. The noise came from a bit away, so I ran towards it, not thinking that it might be a bad idea to do so.
I tripped over rocks, tree roots, and multiple other things on the ground. I didn’t even want to know what they were, in case they were living. The thought made me shudder with disgust. By the time I reached the source of the cries, my clothes were torn to shreds from snagging and falling on so many things on the forest floor. I was bruised and bloodied up pretty bad, not to mention unbearably sore and out of breath.
“Are you okay?” I called out softly.
“Don’t hurt me!” the voice yelled.
It sounded like a young girl. The fear in her voice made my heart break in half right then and there and I wanted to cry. I walked forward a little more, and was soon standing over a small, curled up figure. Suddenly, the lighting changed and it was now blindingly bright, and the forest seemed a little more open and inviting.
The girl looked about four years old. She had curly, waist length, light brown hair that was pulled half back and secured with a bow. Her shorts were dirty and covered in mud, not to mention her legs were cut up and bruised. She was wearing a boys t-shirt. It was plain black and hung loosely on her tiny body.
“Des!” a boy’s voice called out worriedly. “Des, there you are!”
“I don’t want to go back. Daddy will hurt me again,” the little girl yelled stubbornly, pouting and crossing her arms across her chest.
“I won’t let him,” the boy promised, kneeling down next to his little sister. The boy had pin straight, light brown hair like the girl. He was pale, like her, and he looked about 9 years old. He wore a blue t-shirt and dark jeans. I couldn’t help but smile at the boy. He seemed to love his sister.
“Pinky promise?” she whimpered, sticking her small hand out to him.
“Pinky promise, baby girl,” he said sincerely. He hooked his pinky around hers and then pulled her into a hug. “Let’s get back home. Mom’s worried about us.”
“I love you, Shayko,” the girl mumbled.
“Love you too, Des,” he replied, smiling into her hair.

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I awoke with a start, a loud noise nearly shattering my poor eardrums in the process. I realized it was my alarm clock. I grabbed it and threw it against the wall, not caring that I would be late for school. I apparently also forgot that my asshole of an uncle was sleeping here, too. Hopefully, he was passed out drunk in his bedroom.
I stepped out of bed quietly, and tip toed over to his bedroom. I glanced in, and saw him laying face down on the bed. I half hoped he wasn't breathing, and was somewhat disappointed when I heard a snore. I saw the clock on his bedside table, and it read 6 in the morning.
Fucking kill me.
I walked away from my uncle’s room and back to my own. I decided to keep my outfit simple. I pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans with large holes in the knees, a white t-shirt with a black bleeding heart on it, and a dark red hoodie with a native print all over it. I decided to say fuck washing my hair. It looked sexy when I had major bed head. My cherry red hair was super tousled, and my thick red bangs were messily side-swept across my forehead, covering it.
I stepped into the shower and washed my body and shaved real quick, avoiding getting my hair wet. I stepped out and dried myself off, applying lotion, deodorant, and finally getting dressed. I applied my makeup, which consisted of winged eyeliner and mascara. I had virtually no acne, so I never needed foundation or cover up. I brushed my teeth and slipped on a pair of worn black lace up Vans, the off-white laces tucked inside the heels. My name? Destrey Bourget
I grabbed my keys and made a mad dash for the door. I nearly flew into my car, sighing with relief when I realized I had ten minutes to make it to school. School was a 25 minute drive. Hm. How would I pull this off?
I could make it with a bit of excessive speeding.
I popped in my favorite CD. Yes, I said CD. My car is so old and ghetto, there’s nowhere to plug in my iPhone and play music. The CD was a mix of my favorite Of Mice and Men songs, along with some Asking Alexandria, A Day To Remember, Escape The Fate, Sleeping With Sirens, and Pierce The Veil. I sighed happily when the song When You Can’t Sleep At Night came on. I let Shayley’s voice lull me into happiness as I went 20 miles over the speed limit to make it to school. It dawned on me that the little girl in the dream had the same name as me. I shrugged it off, though.
When I got there, I had two minutes until my class started. I can make it. I ran out of my car as fast as I could and bolted through the hallways, not stopping to listen to the hallway supervisors and teachers yell at me to stop running.
I reached the threshold of my math class, and literally threw my backpack across the room, where it safely landed on my desk by some ungodly miracle the second the bell rang.
“NOT LATE, MOTHERFUCKERS!” I screamed in victory as I ran inside the classroom.
“You were not in your seat, Ms. Bourget. You are late,” my stern math teacher, Mrs. Gutierrez, scolded.
“I believe your rule was that as long as our stuff was at our desks by the bell rang, we were not late,” I grinned triumphantly.
She glared at me, and my grin turned into a smug smirk. She huffed, and went to the board. It was then when I noticed that half the class was staring at me. I shot them my death glare and they looked away.
“Nice entrance, Des,” my tablemate and best friend, Drew Icenogle, smirked.
“Shut the fuck up, Snogle,” I whispered, grinning at him. “Can I come over after school?”
“Des you know I have soccer practice till six,” he sighed, giving me a sympathetic look.
“Then I’ll come with you,” I begged quietly, pouting my lower lip and staring into his ice blue eyes.
“Oh, fine. But you’re driving me,” he said, smiling slightly.
Drew was the only one who knew about my living conditions. He did everything he could to keep me away from my uncle. You see, when I was four years old, I was sent to live with him and my aunt here in Colorado because my mom wanted nothing to do with me, and my dad was put into prison. When I was 11 years old, my aunt died, and that’s when things went downhill. He started beating me and hurting me on a daily basis for no reason. By the time I was 14, I learned to accept that that’s how it was going to be. As far as I knew, I had no siblings either, so I was to suffer alone. He also may not look like a kid who'd play soccer, but he was amazing (A/N: links to pictures of Des and Drew are below)
“Yay!” I squeaked.
I received a dirty look from Mrs. Gutierrez and a soft chuckle from Drew. Drew was my best friend and the brother I never had. We’ve never had any romance going on. It’d be too weird, considering we’d known each other since we were six years old and in first grade. I remember meeting Drew, too.

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My aunt held my small hand as we walked up to the elementary school. It was my first day of first grade, and I was super nervous. I was brand new in that town and that was my new school.
“You’ll do just fine,” Aunt Jenna smiled at me.
I smiled up at her as we walked into the classroom. The teacher smiled at us warmly and the class of 17 students was all staring at me. I felt my face go red and I looked down.
“You must be the new girl. Destrey, right?” the teacher asked.
“She is,” Aunt Jenna replied.
“I’m Mrs. Osborn, take a seat next to Drew. Drew, raise your hand,” the teacher said.
A pale, skinny boy with brown, spiky hair and big blue eyes raised his hand. I kissed Aunt Jenna goodbye, and sat next to Drew. The class passed by quickly, and before I knew it, it was lunch time. I pulled out my Hello Kitty lunchbox and unwrapped my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The boy I sat next to in class came over to sit next to me. He smiled at me, and I realized I forgot his name.
“What’s your name again?” I asked shyly.
“Drew Icenogle. Yours?” he asked.
“Destrey Bourget,” I replied.
“Destrey is a funny name,” he giggled.
“Well Icenogle is a funny name, too!” I retorted, pouting and crossing my arms, feeling slightly hurt.
“I’m sorry. I like it actually,” he smiled.
“Just call me Des,” I grinned.
“Call me Drew,” he said. “Wanna split my pudding cup after we eat our sandwiches?”
“What flavor?” I asked, feeling happier.
“Chocolate,” he said, grinning and pulling out a pudding cup.
“Oh, thank you. And I’ll give you half my cookie,” I smiled back, pulling out my homemade chocolate chip cookie.
“Is it homemade?” he asked.
“Yes. My Aunt Jenna makes the best cookies ever,” I grinned, breaking my cookie in half and giving him one of the halves.
“Awesome!” he exclaimed.
And from that moment on, we became best friends over a pudding cup and a chocolate chip cookie.
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I was smiling goofily, and I chuckled softly to myself. After that day, Drew and I were inseparable. We did everything together. We always hung out, despite being made fun of by other kids for ‘cooties’, and we grew up together. He really was my brother. Drew gave me a concerned look, but the bell rang just then, and I realized I had zoned out all of math class.
“What were you grinning about back there?” he asked as we walked out of the room, arms linked.
“The day we met. Can you believe we insulted each others’ names, then made up not 30 seconds later?” I asked, laughing.
“Yeah, and then we became best friends over a pudding cup and a chocolate chip cookie, back when days were simpler,” he said, laughing as well.
Yes, it really was interesting how two people could meet and become friends in such odd circumstances.