Chapter One

Chapter one. actually, the reson i wrote this was for an ELA project xD but, then i had an idea... and this book came to be. lmfao.

                                    Chapter One

 

 

 

   Well, I got kicked out of school again.

   Yes, again. I know, not the most normal thing to hear from a thirteen-year-old girl, nonetheless, but truthfully, I can’t help it. It’s not my fault, really; it’s not like I can control what happens to me.

   I mean, it just… happens.

   All these people at the six schools I’ve gone to are just completely naïve. Idiots. Do they not realize that I’m different from the other students there? And I don’t mean different as in just different clothes and hobbies and such, I mean different as in… I can’t even explain it.

   Well, never mind that. How about I tell you how I ended up getting kicked out again, huh?

   It all started out like this:

   It was just another typical day at Springdale Middle School in this little, rainy town that I called my home, a day where I actually didn’t cause any trouble. Any major trouble, at least. Following my normal schedule, I went to math, music, science, and then… art. That’s where things started to go wrong.

   You see, I’ve always been a fairly good artist, but that teacher. Ugh. Not only was he a creep, with his greasy, bald head, but the noxious smells of the spoiled paints he never replaced added to the disgusting atmosphere emanating from that tiny, humid room.

   So, we were painting a self-portrait, just a normal, everyday project for a middle school art class to do. After dipping my brush in the dirty water, I started on my piece, glancing every now and then at the small Polaroid picture taped to the top of my easel. Normally, I was one of those tall, lanky teenagers, but I was slim yet muscular. This picture I liked; it toned down the usual aggressive look I had.

   Sighing, I dipped my thin-bristled brush into the black paint, beginning to outline the shape of my hair on the canvas, adding a tweak of dark red to it as I went. As soon as the paint touched the canvas, it dried right out, leaving no vestige that it had been there in the first place. I turned over the white canvas to see if it had simply bled through, only to find that it didn’t. I groaned.

   “Mr. Bran, the paint’s spoiled again,” I called across the room. Mr. Bran looked up from his desk, pushing his coke-bottle thick glasses up his bony nose.

   “You’ll deal. Now get back to work,” he retorted in the awful, nasaly voice of his. My simple gaze turned into a glare as he turned back to his paper.

   “No, I won’t ‘deal’. We should have paint that actually works. No wonder we all get terrible grades in here!” Mr. Bran’s gaze slowly returned to me at my contradiction, his eyes narrowing into little slits.

   “Harley,” he twisted my fist name into a sneer, “sit down and paint the picture, or you get detention. With me.” I snorted and rolled my eyes. Detention, oh, I’m terrified, I thought, sarcastically. This dude had no idea who he was talking to, the girl who’d gotten thrown out of too many schools to even remember. When I looked back up at the puny man, he was right in front of my face, nearly breathing down my neck. I concentrated on inhaling air through my mouth so his terrible, rancid breath wouldn’t knock me into an oblivion.

   “Understand?” He drew out the word, the vein in his sweaty forehead pulsing with anger. An evil, devious smirk spread across my face. I could have fun with this.

   “No, actually. I don’t.” I quirked an eyebrow and my smirk grew wider. “Why don’t you just run back to your little cave of a home and get some decent paint, eh? Maybe a life, too, while you’re at it.” Mr. Bran’s face began to turn a shade of tomato red, infuriated, and he bared his teeth at me. Dude, I thought, ever hear of a toothbrush? I stood up off my own seat, towering over the short, plump man.

   “Leave,” he snarled at me, his pale green eyes swimming with fury. I shook my head.

   “Nah, I don’t think so,” I replied.

   “Want me to call your mother?”

   That did it. That pathetic excuse for a man knew himself that both of my parents were killed in a supposed car accident when I was little, and that my grandmother had taken me in.

   “You really shouldn’t have said that.” I growled at the little man. Not a fake, human growl, but a real, feral, vicious snarl. Terrified, Mr. Bran backed up, turned on his heel and headed for the nearest exit, but I beat him to the punch.

   A sharp tearing sound echoed through the small room as my clothes tore and I burst into my true form.

   Before anyone else in the room knew it, there was a giant, horse-sized, midnight black wolf in the room. One blood-red stripe ran down my back, symbolizing my instinct to kill. Another low growl tore from my throat as I lunged at the teacher cowering in the corner of the room.

   Yeah, I told you I was different.

Author's Note

... the usual. Ignore typos, no mean/rude stuff... constructive critism.. yada yada yada. XD Thanks, again, for reading my writing, and please review!!

Reviews

[Dante Yurei]

Hey, this was pretty good!! I really liked this. Guess why she had been kicked out of so many schools! Ok, there are a lot of werewolf stories, so you are gonna have a though time keeping this original, but I think you can do so, as I saw a few elements here I haven't seen in other werewolf's stories. Also the humor in it was very good!