Chapter One

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*First of all thank you for reading. I'm always wanting to get better, so let me know what you think!


My hair was suffocating me. This was an everyday issue, because thanks to my mom my hair was extra thick, and thanks to my dad it was extra frizzy. Today I forgot a hair tie. And the air-conditioning was out at the school. I leaned over, "Cheven, all I wanted was my last year at this damned school to be without A/C complications."

            My perky blonde friend leaned over to me, "Alecia, a year here wouldn't be right if something didn't break down. To be honest, I think they do it on purpose, to bond us all," She said.

            "Those who suffer together, stay together, something like that?" I said, chuckling.

            Coach Torres turned to me, "King. Shut it. I am giving you a masterfully crafted lecture, and you're obligated to at least pretend to pay attention," she snapped at me.

            "I love that she always yells at you and never me," Cheven said with a smug grin.

            I punched her in the thigh. I resumed autopilot, looking through the blackboard, where Coach had written Calculus formulas I had memorized the week before. I bounced my leg and looked from the clock, to the board, to Torres, and again.

            The door opened, and I automatically perked up. It was Lisa, an office worker, delivering a message to Ms. Torres. I swear it was a requirement for the girls who worked in the office to be inhumanly beautiful. A breath filled my chest to the brim and I let it out slowly. I wonder what Lisa likes to do outside of school. She's so gorgeous. Lisa handed Coach a piece of paper and walked out. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and turned my attention back to the board.

Cheven looked at me and laughed, oblivious that I had just been checking out a girl, "Take my hair tie, you sweaty jock."

            "Thank you so much, I'm dying." I said, tying my hair back.

            Around halfway through my junior year, I contracted a serious case of senioritis. Classes seemed more boring, people seemed more annoying, and I had the feeling in my gut that I could be somewhere else, anywhere else really, and be more productive. Instead I was in high school, my brain leaking out from my ears from intense boredom. Just barely beginning my senior year, college seemed a lifetime away, and taunted me in the distance with promises of playing soccer and making new friends who were more like me.

Cheven however was completely at ease in high school. She had always been entertained by my boredom and impatience to be out of high school. By entertained I mean she regularly laughed at my pain and exacerbated it by asking the most ridiculous questions during class, causing the teacher to launch into a drawn-out explanation of whatever asinine thing Cheven had decided was "confused" about.

            Cheven raised her hand, I tried to make her burst into flames with my eyes. "Coach, how do we find the discriminant again? I'm kind of fuzzy on that." She said

            "You got it Davis." Coach Torres said, and then backtracked fifteen minutes of her lecture.

            I glared at Cheven, "You are not fuzzy." She'd been doodling for the past half hour.

            "Hush Alecia, I don't understand yet," Cheven taunted.

            "Don't talk to me, Fuzzy." I said as I turned foreword.

            "Hey, hey seriously for a second, do you want to get Subway after soccer practice?"

            I shook my head, "I can't I have to drive Kayla home after play practice tonight."

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