Untouchable

Alive Again

A/N: Fun fact of the day: this is one of the fastest chapters I've ever written

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I stared out my window at the full moon high up in the sky. It cast a neon light across the city, brightening up my bedroom. I sighed. Tomorrow was the first day back from school. I dreaded every minute leading up to it -- I was not ready to face that stupid building with all those horrible people.

I don't know why it just won't die

I was on the verge of panicking. That heavy weight that had lifted from my chest since the break started, had now returned. I didn't want to see the Barbies faces -- I sure as hell didn't want to deal with their stupid antics. I had no one to help me stop them. I had briefly considering telling Carly about it -- or even my dad, but when I had the chance, I just couldn't muster the courage.

The teachers could suck it as well. My English teacher, who taught us everything but the rules of the english language, was the most annoying creature on this planet. How, someone so arrogant and opinionated and cocky, could get more respect than me, confused me to great lengths. Seriously, what the fuck. And Ms. Gill, her hate for me radiated off her like heat off a pool of lava.

My Art teacher wasn't too horrible, although she did give me a certain look she never gave the other students. Maybe it was because everyone else was busy drawing flowers, and painting clouds, I was sketching shadows. My art helped me stay sane. The pain didn't exactly go away, rather, I wrote it all down; I told my story through pictures, and shades. It was my favourite class -- and not just because I didn't have to socialize in it. I didn't even want to think about Social Studies. I never ended up handing the project in, and my teacher hated me even more because of that.

I was terrified for the second semester to start at the end of the month. I had math, and science -- both of which I had very low expectations -- but I also had PE. I was terrified for gym class. In gym class, you had to wear t-shirts, and shorts. I already got called out for my cuts by the Barbies in French class. What would others do when I couldn't hide them? Would the teacher find out? Would he notify my councelor, who would then notify my father? Would he be mad, would he toss me out? Or would he do something even worse -- ignore it and let me die.

I was also scared of the people who would be in my classes. Would they bully me? Will any Barbies be in my classes to continue to ruin my life? I silently hoped that Dayna would be in my gym class so I could pulverise her with balls and not get in trouble -- but the thought quickly dispersed when I realized gym would be the easiest place for her to torment me. I wondered if there would be any boys in the classes that might take a liking to me; understand me, make me feel okay again.

But that thought vanished quicker than the thought of Dayna in my PE class.

For now, I would have to sit here at my window, and await my demise. Who knew I would be reluctant to start over.

It breaks me in to stay alive

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3 weeks later. . .

I pushed through the halls, anger fueling every footstep. How dare they. I thought. How dare they fuck things to oblivion. Was this school trying to kill me? We had collected our schedules first thing today in homeroom. Of fucking course, I get PE first fucking block. What the fuck. I'm not even awake at 8:30 let alone willing to do laps. Give it to this damn school for making me long for Mr. Cook, and his so called English class. I had math second block, which, after a quick study of the school map, was on the oposite side of the schools gyms. Third was lunch, and last was Science.

But none of that made me nearly as angry as Fourth block did. Oh, no. Fourth made me livid. I was absolutely infuriated. In fourth block, where it should have said keyboarding -- for that was an easy pass -- it said . . . drama. What the fuck did the school think they were doing putting me in drama, where I would be surrounded by High School Musical wannabe's and would have to perform in front of people, and be judged, and let down my silent walls.

I got so used to just hanging on

I marched my way into the counsellors office, where dozens of people stood, all wanting to change their schedules. I gave them all dirty looks, poison spewing from my eyes. What were they here for. To switch a class so they could be with friends? Didn't want to be lonely, surrounded by losers? Well tough luck for them. They could suck it up, and learn how to live. Yeah, thats right. Life isn't fair one fucking bit.

There were three councellors here, all assigned alphabetically. I marched straight to mine, ignoring any others who wanted to meet. My councellor and I had met twice previously. My teacher sent me here when I didn't finish his homework, and another time when I was sent here because I pushed a Barbie into the lockers and she cried wolf.

I stood in her doorway. She noticed my shadow, and looked up. "Tay-"

"Ms. Grace, I have a problem," I growled menacingly. She nodded for me to go on. "Why the hell does my schedule say drama."

"Did you not sign up for it?" she asked annoyingly patient.

"No," I spat.

I feel so wrong

"What did you originally sign up for?" she asked, pulling up some documents on her computer.

"I originally signed up for Keyboarding. Plain and simple. How does one mix up keyboarding, and drama." I sat down in the only chair provided.

Her eyes scanned the computer rapidly before letting out a low sigh. "It seems all keyboarding classes for this semester are filled up. You were slotted in drama because that is the only available class in fourth block. Looks like you're stuck."

"What!" I exclaimed. "I can't move?" a sudden bubble of calustrophobia wrapped around my throat. "I'm stuck in drama class?"

"Looks like it," she sighed.

I don't belong

"No, no, no," I muttered. This couldn't be happening. I ran my hands through my ratty hair. "Ms. Grace. I can't be in drama. I just can't. I dont do well socializing with other people -- we both know that."

"Taylor, I'm sor-"

"Don't give me that!" I'm sure I interupted the whole councellor wing. "Isn't school supposed to make you thrive? School is supposed to be a safe and welcoming place. Drama is everything but that. It's the complete opposite! You have to get me out of there. I can't handle it."

"I can't," she apologized.

I slammed my head against the wall. Fuck. My life was already a nightmare -- I didn't know what to call it now.

And I'm fading