So I don't write notes that often, so please read! This is basically my first story. I had to create a new account so the stories on the other are gone. So that said, I'm still shy about writing stuff.
Please comment, as it gives me motivation to write,and to know if what I write is good or not.
BTW - Dedication is to The_Starzee, because let's face it. She's such an amazing writer and her story forces of nature inspire me and probably hundreds of others. Hopefully she sees this little tidbit and knows how her stories impact people.
Fan! I love to talk to people x
I hope you enjoy. The music on the side is amazing.
CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION OF THE ASSHOLE
I walked in late that morning, due to the fact that mum and dad were fighting again last night. I had massive bags under my eyes, and nothing could cover them up. I had tried, believe me. In the end, I looked like a massive cake face so I just shucked it all. Barefaced, hair up in a messy ponytail, was how I turned up to school.
Walking into my first period, history, people gave me a wide berth, while waiting for the absentee teacher. Huh, I wasn’t late.
Everyone knew to avoid the surly, once-popular Charlotte Lyons. It wasn’t as if I was really unapproachable or downright dangerous, I was just...moody. And no one could really take that, especially not my old ‘friends’. I sat down in my seat at the back of the classroom, chucking my bag down and lifting my boots up to rest on the chair next to me. Sticking my ear buds in, I contemplated what really went wrong.
I used to be popular, Queen Bee you could say. All the boys, fake friends and power of the school. But I never was bitchy, I never used to tease people or go out of my way to ‘destroy’ someone. To be quite honest, I don’t even know how I became popular in the first place, perhaps my looks.
Everyone had called me the ‘dark-haired beauty’. My mum was Spanish, brought up in America without ever learning the language or her heritage. Her skin got passed down onto me, as did her dark brown almost black wavy hair. Unfortunately, I inherited my dads eyes. I would have loved to have my mum’s hazel eyes, but instead, I got dad’s bright blue eyes. My skin and hair reflected on my eyes, making a weird mix. People said it was pretty, but it made me stand out more than wanted when really, when I started high school, was something I didn’t want.
Our family wasn’t anything out of the ordinary either, we were pretty much the perfect family really.My mum and dad were both insanely in love, and then there was the two kids. My older brother Jeremy and I. This lasted for over 15 years.
Of course paradise ended.
My brother Jeremy decided to join the army.
From a young age, Jere had always wanted to serve for our country. To give back, as he’d always said. I think mama thought it was something that he’d grow out of, but at the start of my Freshman year, he registered and went through his training. Within the next year and a half he was in a unit, and all ready to be deployed.
This sort of triggered the beginning of my parents fighting. Neither of them had agreed to Jeremy signing up, and both blamed each other for letting it happen. Then the fights turned to petty things, and now they fight all the time.
I don’t blame Jeremy for leaving me with all the fighting that was going on. He was doing his own fighting, and I loved him for that. His time at home started becoming less frequent and I never really valued our time together until then. The longest he came home for was one month, and hanging out with him almost everyday, made me start to doubt all the school shit.
Then the moment came.
Jeremy Lyons had been shot, in an army raid, entering a house which was believed to be housing enemy soldiers. He didn’t make it. My parents weren’t home when I got the call, they both were at work. So when I answered the phone at 2.30 in the morning, I wasn’t exactly cheery.
I guess I didn’t really take it that well, after shouting at the Commanding Officer who rang, I proceeded to cry my heart out until I rang my parents to come home.
Within a week we were sitting at his funeral. I hadn’t been to school since the phone call, and what had astonished me is that none of my friends came over, or even called. It was right then I decided I wasn’t going to waste my time being fake or having fake friends. I’d be who I wanted to be, for Jeremy and for myself.