Being Bad

Chapter One

I was actually glad to get kicked out of the last school. It was filled with dump country kids that were even too dumb for public school. It was one of the worst schools I've been to so far, and that's saying a lot, because now it's almost official that I have been kicked out of six. And there hasn't been one that I have actually liked, let alone tolerated. That's why I wasn't sad about getting kicked out of this one. It wasn't even that hard to accomplish. A small town with less than 8,000 residents, most people were bound to not like me.

I was called to the principal's office during first period.

When I walked the office the principal, Mr. Burner, and Mr. Duff the Biology teacher, were waiting for me. Mr. Burner looked disapproving and Mr. Duff glared, a vein popping out on his forehead. He hated me. He had had it out for me since day one and wanted me gone. Now he would get his wish.

"Ms. Baker, please sit," Mr. Burner gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. Duff sneers at me from behind his back.

"Sure," I say, dropping my bag and getting comfortable in the chair.

"Do you know why you are here, Ms. Baker?," asks Mr. Burner, clasping his hands on his desk.

"Nope," I say, crossing my legs and cupping my chin in my hand,” but I'm sure you're going to tell me." I give him a grin.

He, unfortunately, does not find this amusing. He frowns. "Ms. Baker, I have had numerous reports from Mr. Duff, and other teachers, complaining about your unruly behavior in their classrooms. You have been to my office a few times for this and other things, and we have been easy on you; however, with your history of being expelled from..." he checks my file (which is huge by the way) "six different schools and your recent shenanigans in Mr. Duff's classroom," he looks at me like he actually cares, "we know your behavior will not stop. We are sorry, but you are hereby expelled from our school."

Mr. Duff grins at me, a very evil and ugly grin. I notice that his teeth are a rotten shade of yellow. Disgusting.

I don't bother trying to play the sad and crying card, asking to give me another chance. They aren't worth it, and I'm tired of this dump anyway.

I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I give them my best smile, "So long."

And then I'm gone.

For good.

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When I got home the phone is ringing, echoing through our almost bare house. I live with my aunt, Richelle, who is almost always gone to work and just...out. She isn't the best role model, but she's all I've got. She's thirty-three and thinks she's much too young to be burdened with me. Though, without me who would she have? Her house would be a dump, and the bills would be unpaid. She would be a mess without me here. But sometimes I wish I didn't have to do all that. I wished my parents were still alive to take care of me.

When I was ten, my parents took a trip to Africa to help build houses and give food, leaving me to stay with my grandmother while they were gone. They were those kind of people. The kind who put others first. The kind who didn't have a mean bone in their body. They never cursed, or yelled. They stayed in Africa for almost three weeks, and on their way home their plane crashed, caught in a storm in the middle of the Atlantic and crashed on the coast.

I lived with my grandmother for three years after that, until she died of a stroke. I was thirteen. After that I moved in with Richelle, who was twenty-nine at the time. It was awkward at first. I had only met her a few times in my whole life, and she wasn't the kind of person my parents let me hang around. So we didn't really know each other. And I was changing out of an awkward little girl to a moody teenager, who Richelle had no idea how to deal with. But we soon fell into a routine. Her doing what she wanted while I did what I wanted. Me cleaning and shopping and other things while she lived her life, but I also lived mine. Richelle wasn't nosy or around all the time so I had a lot of freedom. Probably too much, in most people's opinion. So I became Bad. I was nothing like my parents. I was mean, I cursed, and I yelled. We were total opposites.

When I was fourteen I got kicked out of my first school. Eighth grade. I don't remember why. Then I did it again. Expelled twice as a freshman. Twice as a sophomore. And so far, two months into my junior year, once.