Don't Give up on Me

"Andria! Hurry up or you'll be late for your first day," my father shouts up the stairs of our new house. He never really used my full name, unless he was trying to make a point, being serious, or grounding me. Unfortunately, those three things typically went together.

I brush my red hair out of my face and style it into place before grabbing my worn black bookbag and equally worn black Vans before heading downstairs. I see my dad nodding away to the song Animal by Neon Trees while scraping egg whites with what appeared to be spinach leaves in the pan. He was a chef, so nothing was ever ordinary when it came to cooking.

"Oh, oh, I want some more! Oh, oh, what are you waiting for?" my dad goofily sings along, failing miserably.

"Take a bite of my heart tonight," I finish for him, sliding onto a barstool at the tall island in the center of our kitchen. "I feel bad for your new kitchen staff, Dad, you should just stick to cooking."

"Jeez, Andi, a little harsh, don't ya think?" he says with a large grin. "You're lucky I made you breakfast with a rude attitude like that."

"Excuse me, Dad, but aren't you and Mom the ones that told me 'honesty is the best policy'?" I reply as he slides the plate of eggs over to me. "I'm just more blunt about it."

"You're just like your mother, kid," he says, though I could tell it still pained him to do so.

You see, the entire reason why we left the little cozy neighborhood back home in Austin was because of her. All of my life, things seemed chipper between my parents; though they married young because of my older brother being conceived during their senior year of high school, they seemed very much in love. When I started high school, my brother was starting his first year of college. And since he was moving out and on with his life, naturally my mother got upset and a little distant.

About the middle of freshman year, she started dissappearing once a week. One night became three days, then five, then so on and so forth. She went from being a hermit in the house (she was a stay at home mom after getting laid off as a nurse at a childrens hospital) to never being home. My dad tried so hard to make it work- not getting angry at the lack of phone calls or not being home, tried counsulling, everything he could. But she'd found another man, and gotten pregnant.

"Its time for me to start a new life," she'd written in the note left with divorce papers at the beginning of sophomore year. My dad finally brought his heartbroken self to sign them on last New Years Eve, slowly nursing a bottle of vodka while he did so.

Slowly, my dad and I were becoming distant and depressed by the days. It sucked having my dad go to the restaurant he owned until 12 at night, see him grab a bottle of vodka or other kind of alcohol and sit in the living room, drinking and smoking until early hours of the morning just to repeat it all. So when a letter from his college friend arrived, inviting him to Orange County, California to be a su chef at a pretty high class restaurant, I did my best to convince him to take it; we desparately needed a fresh start, so much like my selfish mother had. My dad announced two weeks ago that he'd found a place in Huntington Beach to live, and here we were.

The egg whites became less appetizing by the second. I push my plate away. "Can we just go now? I just want to get today over with..."

He locks eyes with me and frowns. "Sure, let's go honey." He puts my plate in the sink and grabs his keys.

After a five minute drive to my new high school, he asks "Do you think you'll make it home alright?"

"Positive," I reply, unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Knocl 'em dead, kiddo," he says encouragingly as I close the car door. I give him a playful salute, earning a few stares as I walk away to the main office for my class schedule.

Turns out, like my old school, we had A and B days separated into four classes a day, plus a 40 minute lunch period after third block. I saw English III on my schedule and groaned. Great, I think as I trudge upstairs to the 200 hallway. I hated English, not because I hated reading (I actually really loved it, contrary to popular belief) but I always got dealt tthe shittiest teachers.

Thankfully, I reach the classroom right as the bell rings. Or so I thought, anyways.

"And who are you?" the man in front of the white dry erase board asks, the class utterly silent.

Shit.

"I'm Andria Dawson, I just got transferred here. I'm in your class," I reply as confidently as I can manage.

He snatches my schedule sheet roughly out of my hands, his beady hazel eyes scanning the paper for confirmation. He gives me a sharp look. "Miss Dawson, it's not wise to show up to my class late.

"It wont happen again," the lie rolling off of my tongue easily.

"Go find a seat," he snaps before turning away again. Rolling my eyes, I head towards the only empty seat in the far back. Everyone's eyes were on me, but I didn't really notice.

But I did notice the one that the guy that I was to sit beside gave. He had short black hair, tiny gauges, snakebites on his bottom lip, and had his septum pierced. And his eyes... I could talk about them for hours. The deepest green you've ever seen, with a mysterious glint. He wore a simple Ramones t-shirt and frayed jeans.

I saw in my peripheral vision his eyes noticibly look me over before carefully looking away. He shares a look with a babyfaced guy that I couldn't decipher- though BabyFace mouthed something to him- as Mr Green starts his lesson.

Knowing I'd fare better by napping, I fold my arms and rest my head on them. Right as I get comfortable, though, someone taps me ever so lightly.

"I know this class is boring, but I wouldn't do that," Green Eyes says softly. "He gets pissy about shit like that."

I sit up with a sigh, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in my chair. I'm not sure why, but he finds this funny, as his soft laugh was audible beside me. It was extremely attractive.

"I'm Zacky, by the way," he says.

"Andi," I murmur quietly in response, giving a small wave.

He grins. "Nice shirt."

I look down at my Blink 182 shirt and smile back. "Got it at a show a couple years back."

"Which stop?" he asks, obviously intrigued.

"Aus-" I begin to reply, but Mr Green cuts me off.

"Andria, Zachary, you both have detention. See me after class."

I roll my eyes as a few kids snicker. Zacky only chuckles, winking in my direction before staring at the whiteboard. The hour seems to drag on, and my relief when the bell rings almost matched my disappointment as I realized I had to talk to Green.

Approaching his desk, Mr Green says, "You two, the rules are no talking in my class. I've had enough outbursts for one day. Now sign here for lun-"

"Detention for talking?! Are you joking!?" I say, unable to help myself since I couldn't say it earlier. "Excuse my language, but that's complete bullshit."

Zacky laughs under his breath while Mr Green sneers.

"I couldn't care less what you think is fair or not. You are a child, and I am an adult. I run this classroom, not you. One hour of detention after school, both of you," he snaps, glaring harshly at me. We both scrawl our names quickly before walking out for next period.

"Fuck my life," I mutter, pulling out my schedule.

I hear him laugh again. "That was awesome! Honestly! Green has the most bullshit reasons for detention. Don't take it personal."

I sigh. "He's such a douche. What's his deal? Did someone yank on his balls or something?"

"I wouldn't know, actually," he laughs while I somewhat regret the sentence I'd just said. "Where are you headed next?"

"Algebra II with Mr Clay," I reply. He smirks.

"My friend Charlotte's in that class. I can take you, if you want?"

I smile gratefully before following him to the classroom. "See you in detention, Andi."

"See you," I say shyly, catching his eyes one last time before walking inside.

"Hey! There's the new girl!" a female voice calls out to me. Seconds later, a short brunette bounces over to my side. "Nice shirt!"

"Nice accent," I reply with a smile. "What is that? English, Irish...?"

"I'm from London, moved here a couple years back." she replies. "I'm Charlotte."

"Andi," I introduce myself before she leads me to the back of the room, where she and a girl with bright blue hair sat. We had a substitute that day, so we didn't do hardly anywork. Instead, Charlotte and the other girl Violet animatedly talked with me, smirking when I mention Zacky.

"You have to meet the rest of our friends," she says. "That's a requirement. They'll absolutely love you."

"Especially Jimmy. He's gonna love that you've gotten detention already," Violet grins, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

I groan. "I really don't like Mr Green. At all. Fucking jerk."

"We know, we know," Charlotte sighs. "I've got him next. Good thing Brian's in there or I'd go insane."

"Why, so you can be a creep and stare at him the whole time?" Violet jokes, earning a blush from the brunette.

"At least I don't eye-fuck Matt like you do," Charlotte shoots back, making me laugh as her accent seems to thicken with anger.

"Sorry, Charlie," Violet shrugs with a grin. "Andi, give me your schedule."

I hand it over and she grins. "You've got dance with us for last period every day, and she's got history with you tomorrow, Charles. And we have Chem for 6th period with Jimmy, Brian and Zacky."

"Thank God," I sigh, partially because I had another class with Zacky, but also because I'd actually know people for once.

"If you ever get bored with those losers tomorrow," Charlotte begins, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Text me. They're pretty lame if you ask me, plus Matt will probably take my phone and text you too."

Violet rolls her eyes, also scribbling something. "Let me know if History gets boring tomorrow."

I laugh as the bell rings, putting the papers into my bag. I'd save them later. "Good luck with the devil," I tell Charlotte as Violet jumps over the desk and leaves in a hurry.

"She's got History with Matt so she's trying to beat him to class," Charlotte clarifies for me with a grin. "And thanks. I'd show you to the art classroom but.."

"No, go! Before you get detention too!" I assure her before parting ways. I couldn't believe how nice they'd been; I'd been here not even six hours and they treated me like I'd been here forever. It made me miss my old friends back home, but at the same time I was thankful.

I suddenly bump into something hard, an already familiar laugh drifting into my ears. I look up and repress a sigh.

"Watch where you're going," he says, his tone humorous rather than hurtful.

"Sorry," I apologize, my heart skipping a few beats. I felt a blush creep onto my cheeks at the proximity of us- we were almost nose to nose, if I were as tall as him anyways.

He drops my gaze a few seconds later. "Get to class," he smirks, winking before purposely brushing our shoulders together.

I shouldn't have been as giddy as I was when I walked into the artroom.