Don't Give up on Me

Art class was a bust.

I was stuck in Art II with a bunch of smart aleck, hipster, overly confident sophomores and the grown up versions of them as the upperclassman.

Needless to say, I didn't fit in. All the students laughed or sneered when I'd raise my hand and asked a question about the Madonnas we were studying- which was often, because I had a genuine interest in the style of art.

"Full of questions. She should just go to Art I," a girl lamely insults in my direction. She had her blonde hair in a sleek high ponytail, with large Buddy Holly-esque glasses on her face. Bright red lipstick was on her thin lips. She wore a white and blue thin striped off the shoulder sweater, with midnight black tights outlining the few curves she had. Chunky black boots were on her feet, and she wore an upside down cross at her throat.

A wanna-be satanist Hipster. How cute.

"Hush, Serena, at least she's working for her grade today, unlike you," Mrs Jackson, the instructor, defends me, giving me a sympathetic smile. I tried to ignore Serena's little eyeroll in my direction and continued writing down notes. Art was the only thing I really loved aside from dance. Both were instilled in me at a very young age, and I took both very serious. So if this chick wanted to make fun of me, fine, she can live her dream, it didn't necessarily bother me.

"Alright, juniors and seniors get to go to lunch early today," Mrs Jackson says a few minutes later. I quickly pack up my bookbag and leave the room, eager to just leave and temporarily forget this class.

Serena gives me a wink before walking ahead of her other hipster friends. Huh. Thought the whole popular-bitch thing was dominated by bleach blonde cheerleaders. 80's movies have failed me.

I find a few vending machines and buy some water and a granola bar before I retreat to a hiding place in the courtyard. It was under a large oak tree at the edge of the large yard, giving me enough space from awful people.

I let out a sigh and relax against the tough bark of the tree. I could go looking for Charlotte and Violet, but since I had my next class with them, it wouldn't be too long before I saw them again anyways. And I didn't want to look awkward and draw attention to myself.

I shook my head at myself. I was so quiet and really only kept to myself, yet onstage, I was the bubbly, confident cliche. I guess that was because I was only comfortable when I danced. I wasn't sure how to describe it. The stage was my home, plain and simple.

The familiar buzz of my iPhone disrupted my thought process as it seemed to flood with messages; I had hardly any signal in my last class, so now my phone was getting spammed. A few were from my two best friends back in Austin, one was from my dad asking what I wanted for dinner, and one that made my heart stop.

"Has Mom texted you recently? She won't answer me and idk why..." my older brother Ryan's message said.

"Ry, do you realize who you're talking to? She hasn't talked to me since the day she left," I quickly type back, tears springing in my eyes.

"Maybe she's busy with the baby or something." I exit out of his reply and throw my phone on my bag, my chest feeling tight as I pull my knees toward it. I rested my cheek on my arm and tried to catch the breath I suddenly lost.

I knew it was wrong to hate people, especially your own family, but I definitely hated my mom. None of this would have happened if she hadn't decided we weren't good enough anymore. I could still be in Austin right now, not feeling like an outcast. I could be with my friends Nikki and Peter, cutting school and going to his house to play video games or something. But no. My mother got pregnant and fucked everything up. Now her new daughter Desiree was her main priority, instead of the family she once had.

"Weird finding you here," a voice says above me, making me jump. Hopefully I hadn't looked like I was crying, I couldn't face having to explain why.

I finally look up and see comforting green eyes on me with a questioning gaze. "You alright?"

I refrain from sighing. "Fine," I lie. "Just tired."

He sits beside me, looking as if he didn't believe me. He raises a can of soda to his lips and takes a swig. "I feel you. Monday's suck."

"Do you usually come here?" I ask. "To this spot, I mean.."

His eyes playfully light up as I stumble over my words. "Usually, when my friends have lunch detention or if they're skipping without me. Or in this case, I've pissed off Charles and she's made me leave."

I laugh. "Would we have lunch detention if I hadn't opened my mouth earlier?"

He nods with a laugh. "Yeah, for sure."

I groan loudly. "Leave it to my big mouth to get us in trouble. I'm so sorry. This is NOT how I wanted today to go. And I think I've already got someone that hates m-"

"What? Who?!" he interrupts me quickly, then lowers his gaze as if he were regretting his outburst.

"I think her name's Serena, she's in my art class," I roll my eyes at the thought of her.

"Serena Lawson?" he asks. Oh great, our last names rhymed.

"I guess so. She's the physical embodiment of the typical hipster."

"Yeah, that's Lawson for you," he shakes his head. "But, between you and me, she used to be goth. Like, 69 Eyes, CKY, fucking Old-Marilyn-Manson-listening-to goth. She was like that from about seventh grade to about freshman year. And then bam, sophomore year comes, and she suddenly listened to Passion Pit and My Morning Jacket and pretended to know everything about Lord of the Rings and thought she was cool for listening to Foster the People before they got big. Don't take her too seriously, she's just another bitch."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Are you joking? Old Marilyn Manson! His music is great but she worshiped him? You just made my fucking day."

"Its what I'm here for," he winks as my phone buzzes again.

"Sorry, Andi, I shouldn't of sent that. How is your new school?" the text from Ryan asked. I sighed.

"Mom being overly worried?" he asks after I hastily type out a reply and throw my phone down.

I really hope he didn't see the panic in my eyes. "No, just my older brother being a dick. Nothing new. You'd think being 20 and a sophomore in college with a psychology major would be a little more considerate."

"I can take care of him for you," he says with a serious face, though I can see his eyes playfully holding mine. "Where's he at? I'll beat his ass."

I laugh again." Not necessary. He's all the way back ho- I mean, back in Austin, anyways," I reply, catching myself. I couldn't call that place home anymore.

"That doesn't give him the right to be rude to you. You're blood. That trumps all," he shrugs.

Oh, if only that were true, I think bitterly. "Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask just as bitterly as my thoughts seem to be, though I automatically mentally punch myself in the face in embarrassment.

He only grins. "Would you rather me be an asshole?"

I smile meekly back. "No, not really."

The bell rings loudly, even though we were quite a ways away from campus. He offers a hand to help me up. I give him a shy smile at the brief contact.

"The dance room is on the first floor in the first building, I can take you if you want?"

"That'd be great," I say, shoving my phone into my back pocket and following him. "Wait, how di-"

"Do you really think that after I saw that on your schedule that I'd forget? It makes sense, though," he says with an obvious smirk on his face. I couldn't help but blush; I wasn't used to this kind of attention whatsoever.

"I've done it again," he says with a grin. "My smooth talking sometimes works to my disadvantage."

"Oh, don't tell me you're one of those guys," I reply instantly, rolling my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Cockiness and arrogance, contrary to popular belief, are NOT as hot as you think they are," I tell him, our eyes locking.

"You're really gonna hate my friend Brian, then," he says, unfazed by my attitude. "You're cute when you're mad."

I push him playfully as we reach the dance room. "Get to class, Baker," I tell him with a grin.

"Detention is the classroom next to the office, Dawson," he says, turning on his heel and walking down the hallway, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked.

"Thanks," I mutter to myself before walking inside the classroom. Mirrored walls were the first things I saw, comforting me almost as much as the coffee colored wooden floors. A large stereo sat in the corner on top of even bigger speakers.

"Hey! You're my new girl, aren't you?" the instructor says, towering a good six inches over me as we approached each other. "I'm Linda Peterson, but please don't ever call me 'Mrs Peterson'. Drives me nuts!"

"Alright, I'm Andria, but go by Andi," I introduce myself. We chat for a few minutes about how they were just starting a new dance, so I actually got to participate today.

"Now, I've seen your portfolio," she says seriously. "We have our dance team auditions next week, please tell me you're considering it!"

"I'll be there. Which day?"

"Saturday at nine am, here in the gym. Basically, we're going to be learning the main routine we perform at football games and then I'm going to let you all perform a solo routine. You'll know by the end of that day whether or not you're on the team," she explains. "But I think you've got a huge shot at making it."

"Thanks," I say quietly before following Charlotte and Violet into the locker room to change. Half of the class was like my second period class- just hanging out and joking around. I felt myself get more comfortable with Charlotte and Violet already. The other half, we started learning the new Jazz routine Linda had created.To my surprise, Violet and Charlotte picked it up just as fast as I did, maybe even faster. Some of the other girls, however, fared differently; falling down, missing a step, or just plain not understanding how the dance was created.

Towards the end of the class, someone stumbles into the room, knocking over a small shelf in the process.

"Really, Serena, did you think I wouldn't notice you were gone this entire class," Linda says after turning the music off. The blonde only grins.

"It won't happen again," Serena lies, walking towards the opposite wall and sitting down. Not much later, we're released to the locker room, and for some reason, Serena follows.

"So, my British friend," she says to Charlotte, who only narrows her eyes at her. "I hear Brian's a great kisser.."

"I know what you're trying to do, you twat, and its not gonna work," Charlotte rolls her eyes, pulling a pair of sweatpants over her her spandex shorts.

"Do you now?" Serena grins. "Well, if you're wondering why I'm late-"

"Trust me, I've better things to do than wonder about your well being," Charlotte mutters.

"Gosh, can I finish my thought before you interrupt me? Anyways... he's got a way with that tongue of his."

"Yeah, sure," Charlotte says sarcastically. "And how would you know?"

"Well, where do you think I was?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Brian has football practice for fourth block. There's no way he'd cut class just to make out with you," Charlotte says, glaring at the blonde.

"But he did," Serena sighs. I shake my head. She was such a bitch.

"You're a fucking liar," Violet spits. "Just go."

"Are you jealous, Violet? I thought that was Charlotte's job," Serena smirks.

I laugh. "Shut the fuck up. Obviously they don't believe you, nor do they give a shit. You're making a fool of yourself. Just go, please."

The blonde glares. "It speaks. Who knew."

I chuckle. "Its pathetic that you have to brag about hooking up with guys to get a rise out of someone. I think you've got 'classy' and 'trashy' mixed up, honey."

"You think you're being clever," she shakes her head. "At least I can get guys."

"Is that really something to be proud of?"I mutter, pulling on sweatpants like Charlotte.

The bell rings. "Bye guys, great talking to you," Serena says sarcastically, turning on her heel and walking out. We all roll our eyes in her direction.

"Ugh, I'll see you guys tomorrow," Violet says, picking up her things and walking out as well.

"Good luck in detention," Charlotte says, then adds "and thanks for sticking up for me."

"No problem," I dismiss it. "See you later."

Charlotte gives me a smile before waving and exiting the locker room. I followed closely behind, hoping to not be late to detention.