Page 3

“Let me guess,” he sneered nastily, “you’re Ariel Kimber.”

Was everyone in this town going to hate me on sight or what? This whole town sucked, and so did all these mean kids.

My face heated and I just knew I was blushing three different shades of red on more than my face. My entire body likely glowed an unattractive shade of red. “Ye… Yes, sir.” I stammered. Because he’d sneered my name, I really didn’t want to have to talk to him at all.

He pursed his, too thin for his fat face lips, and ordered, “Have a seat next to Mr. Tyson.”

Did he honestly expect me to know who Mr. Tyson was? I had no clue. How was I supposed to know who in the heck Mr. Tyson was? I turned around and frantically scanned the room for an open seat. There had to be one since he expected me to sit in it. My eyes grew round in panic. I started to shake my head from side to side but somehow managed to stop myself.

Of course, he was Mr. Tyson.

Of course.

Fuck my life.

I licked my suddenly dry lips and headed towards the back, to where I assumed my seat was because it was the only available desk in the room. Right next to Mr. Menacing Voice. Or, whom I assumed was this Mr. Tyson.

I didn’t make it to my desk right away.

Half way down the aisle, two desks from my empty one, someone stuck out their foot and tripped me.

I went down hard, landing on my knees with my bag still clutched in my hands. The impact jarred me and I bit down on the inside of my cheek, causing my face to sting. Pain always kept the tears at bay. Always.

“Freak show,” a deep, unmistakably male voice muttered.

I don’t know why but I sought him out with my eyes. It’s like they were drawn right to him by some invisible force that I couldn’t seem to hide from. His eyes were still cold, but I could swear I saw something uneasy flicker through them before he masked it with indifference.

The room remained utterly silent for a few seconds before it exploded with loud cheering and the laughter of my classmates along with a few shocked gasps and sounds of disgust. Not everybody found my humiliation to be amusing.

“Way to go, Chucky.” Someone called out, I think it was the mean girl but couldn’t be sure.

I looked to the side of me where the foot would have had to have come from. I found another Devils football t-shirt wearing jock. This one a mammoth brunette with light brown eyes and an adorable dimple. His t-shirt showcased the number eight. He leered down at me with no remorse whatsoever on his face. It really sucked that some people weren’t as ugly on the outside as they were on the inside. If that were the case this pretty boy would look like a s

teaming pile of dog poo.

I quickly looked away from him and his adorable dimple and scrambled to my feet. I brushed off the knees of my black leggings and slowly, carefully, walked to my empty seat in silence, showing no reaction other than my initial flinch filled with pain.

I was not going to give these people the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I sat down in my seat with as much dignity as I could muster. Which, honestly, wasn’t much at all, but I still managed it. I stared, unseeing, straight ahead and clutched my bag to my chest.

None of it mattered.

They didn’t matter.

To hell with them all.

I kept telling myself that, but this time I feared it was all a false bravado.

Throughout the whole class I felt Tyson’s eyes burning into me. I paid him no mind just as I did everyone else.

Chapter Two

“Rough first day? I’ve never been the new kid before, but I can imagine it’s not all that fun.”

I was in creative writing, the only class I had looked forward to the entire day. It was the last class of the day, and that question had come from my table mate. I was so out of it I hadn’t even noticed there was someone seated next me at the table.

Rough first day? Was this some kind of joke? More torment for the new girl?