***Smut***
I don't take requests, and I realize that I'm not the best at logically writing stories. If you are going to comment anything negative then don't read.
It was my first day at Will Rogers High School. Ma got a new job here in Tulsa, and so I had to leave my old school and all of my old friends. Not that I'm complaining; I get to start a new life and meet new people. I felt confident today, and I wore a confident outfit.
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As I walked through the halls, I immediately regretted choosing this school. My old school was private; the halls were never crowded, all the students showed respect. But in this school I see freshman getting shoved in lockers, people throwing chocolate milk at each other, and kids smokin' in the corner.
I decided to just ignore it. I'm sure it aint' that bad the whole year, it'll get better. As I did the code to my locker, some kids started fist fighting. One kid threw a punch, but the other kid dodged it. And guess who was standing right behind him? Me. And I got a face full of fist.
The guy who threw the punch looked at me, and his eyes widened. "I just hit a girl. I can't hit girls." The whole crowd was silent staring at me. I was glaring lasers at that guy. But I was used to being hit.
When I was little, my Pa was an alcoholic and a drug user. He was always beatin' on Ma and I, and Ma got sick of seeing me so bruised up, so she built up the courage to kick him out.
I turned, not taking my eyes off the boy, and hurried to my first class.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
When I walked into class, everyone started whispering and gesturing towards me. Jeez, I thought. News travels real fast here.
I took a seat at my desk, and looked around. To my left was a girl with long, dark brown hair, with chocolate brown eyes. To my right was a boy with bleached blonde hair, with greenish grey eyes. I found myself staring at him longer than I wanted to. He was quite attractive. He was wearing a muscle shirt, that showed off his perfect muscles, and a pair of worn out jeans. His hair was slicked back. Greaser, I thought to myself. Even better.
I myself am a greaser. I lived in the hood all my life, Ma had never been able to afford nothin' much. Then why did I go to a private school? I got a scholarship. If I hadn't, Ma wouldn't have been able to afford it.
The teacher's voice snapped me back into focus.
"Good morning, class. My name is Mrs. Filkins, and I will be teaching you Math and Science this semester. I am also your homeroom teacher. You will meet in this class..." Her voice seemed to be droning on and on, and I found myself staring at the bleached blonde on my right again. I had never had a real crush, and I didn't know what to think of it. He seemed to be getting bored also. He was tapping his foot on the ground, his chin resting in his hand. His other hand was occupied by tapping his pencil on the desk.
"Ponyboy, for God's sake, please stop tapping that pencil." Mrs. Filkins said, clearly annoyed.
"Sorry, Ma'am." He stopped tapping his pencil. Ponyboy, I thought. That's an odd name. His voice was also quite attractive. It was deep, yet had some concern in it. I found myself smiling as I looked at him. But I stopped before anyone saw me.
