Chapter2

THIS IS HOW I AM:

Messy curls in the morning. Should I do something with it? No. Just get up and go. Green eyes that are horrifically bright. I hate them. So abnormal. So... different. My oversize vanity is where I paint my face on in the morning, Like the girls in fashion magazines do. My father despises them. He says they brainwash all the girls around here. Especially the ones in the Red Zone. The Red Zone is not to be discussed for a number of reasons. 

The amount of stolen make-up on my vanity ranges from sixty to a eighty bucks. It's so easy to steal just about anything in this disgusting town. This disgusting town I'm somewhat proud to live in. Jeans and a t-s**t is as far as fashion gets me. My father doesn't believe in impressing people. He believes everyone is equal in some sense. If that were the case, everyone would look like me. Simple and plain, with a touch of sixty dollar make-up I had to stealthily run out of the house with. Again, my father utterly hates it. He thinks I'm beautiful without it. I'm happy with or without it. A little touch of pretty never hurt anybody.

Everyday I wake up to the smell of my dad rolling one. A freshly rolled dub that he's about to spark to get the day started. Yup, that's my father. My usual routine is to wake up, get dressed, and fill my pockets with a few things of make-up. Go down the stairs to the smoked up house. Trying not to get a secondhand high before school. I wrap my gray t-shirt around my head and try to choke down my bowl of cereal that I never finish. 

"Going to school, bye dad"

"Come here sweetie, let my braid your hair. I love doing it. Your mother used to do it all the time."

"Dad I'm leaving. Oh, and turn the TV down. The neighbors will start to complain again."

I hated when my father would bring up my mother. I barely knew the woman who walked out on us and let my father to raise a little girl completely emotionless and dead. What a b***h.

I also really hated school. It wasn't an educational enviorment. It was more of a place for high school kids to exchange money and drugs. Or, money for drugs. Drugs for money. I didn't like that kind of s**t. But my friends, wait, I didn't have friends, just people I would scowl at and think to myself about how much I hated them with a burning passion of a thousand suns. I did have a couple people I would talk to one part of the day. Fifth period. Or what they called it, the highest part of the day. Not when the sun was the highest in the sky, but what it literally meant.

Matt Black. Beautiful. Talented. He could play guitar better then anyone I have ever listened to. Ice blue eyes, and caramel colored hair. Besides his beautiful trademarks. He's commonly known as a burn out. With the rest of the so called 'crew' , Bryce, Nick, and Seth. All burnouts. Not-going-anywhere-in-life kids. Quite sad to watch if you ask me.

But I dint't care. Nope. I was just the one to cut the path.