Composing Trouble

SEPTEMBER

Chapter One

POV: Max

I pulled up into the school on my dirt bike. I took off my helmet and flipped my bangs out of my face. All eyes are now on me. I smirk to myself as I step off and clop my way to the door, with my head held high.

I got dirty looks the entire time. The cheerleaders all stereotypical and in blue and gold skirt uniforms and high pony tails. Their boyfriend jocks all looking dopey eyed and stupid. The bad boys with there play motorcycles and fake-leather jackets.

The stereotypical nerds with suspenders, sweater-vests and big glasses. And then all the other stereotypical high school groups. There was mixture of high- heels and wearing out tennis shoes.

And then there was me.

Maxima. The dumbest name on Earth, so lets call me Max, shall we?

Dark gray, skin tight jeans, solid gold(painted)high tops, a hot pink tank-top with a black, leather jacket. And then my hair. All the girls have their hair in ether a pony tail, crimped, curled, or braided.

Why don't they just let their hair go natural? I don't honestly know.

As I walked through the halls I got varies looks. The death glare from snobby brats, the wiry eye from other 'bad ass' girls, and awe from nerdy girls. And from the guys I got looks that all fell into longing, need, amazement, and lust.

I smirked as I passed a group of 'bad boys'. “Hey.” One of them addresses me.

“Hey yourself stranger.” I respond.

“Do you have a name other than 'New Girl'?” He asks.

“Yeah.” I nod as I spin the dial on the locker.

“You gonna tell me it?” He gets really close, so close his chest is touching my arm.

“Nawh.” I shrug and pull up on the lever. The locker doesn't budge.

“Playing hard to get, I like that.” He said.

“I'm not playing. I am.” I tug on the lever again, but to no avail does it open.

“Allow me.” He rams his shoulder into the locker and then pulls up on the whole door. It opens.

“Thanks pal, what did you say your name was again?” I say as I grab a bag of gummy worms that I had stashed in two days prior, during my walk through.

“Oh yeah, Zeke.” He shrugs, then his face falls. “You played me!” He accuses.

“No, your just stupid.” I shrug and grab the books that the school provided me during the walk through.

“Your mean.” He looks hurt.

Wow, the big ofe. “Your hot.” And I mean it. He has dark brown, curly hair and gray eyes that twinkle with mischief and stupidity. Can stupidity twinkle? Anyways he is tall and muscular.

“Your not to bad yourself.”

“Bye-bye.” I smile and waltz into my home room.

“Hello, you must be-”

“-Max.” I interject.

“Oh-okay then, Max.” She smiles politely and motions me to one of the back desks. I take my seat and prop my gold-shoes up on the desk. The teacher looks like she wants to protest, but then a bunch of B.A guys walk in and she decides they are worth more of the trouble.

One of them sits down by me.

“So I saw you walking with Zeke.” He said.

“Who is Zeke?” I shrug innocently. They guy laughs extremely hard. “What, I insulted your friend as an invisible and your laughing.” I point out, getting suspicious.