Karma

Freshman

Steward's POV:
I was kind of excited you know? Starting a new life in a new school. Not having to be taunted anymore for the way I look, my name, and every other thing.

Because now, I'm going to high-school.
A new start.

I've heard that there's a lot of mean people there though, so I'm wondering if they'll be like my previous classmates...

I mean of course, it wasn't that bad.

Although I had to go to the hospital once to treat my broken wrist. It's okay now, it healed, of course. No surprise since it was 5 years from now.

And I just realized I was doing all this unnecessary thinking while still laying in bed.
My alarm was beeping like it was being tortured. I feel.

How did I even daydream like that?
I stretched my stiff arms, and extended it to turn off the annoying ringing. I unintentionally let out a wince and realized my arms still hurt from yesterday. There were a couple of bruises alongside my elbow and my forearm.

My dad had beat my arms with a baseball bat when I accidentally bumped into Charlie.
But I was glad because that was the least painful punishment I've ever received.

Smiling to myself, I jump off the bed in excitement, and went to look in my closet for what to wear.

First day of high-school.
First day of high-school.

I needed to find something perfect.
But that was pretty much impossible. I had a closet full of—okay, who am I kidding.

I can't even "walk" to my closet or "look in it" since well, my closet is a cheap 5 below, ripped plastic bag with my name initials written on it.

S.P

Don't get me wrong. My family's not poor. They're not rich either but I'm sure they could definitely buy me like a $10 drawer or something.

But no, I'm here with a plastic bag.
In it contained two outfits.
2 shirts of black and white, 1 denim jeans, and 1 pair of khaki shorts.

My brother's room was next to mine and he complained a lot for that for some reason.
This one time, I snuck a peek in that room.

Got a beating for doing that, but it was worth it to see what ancient things were placed in there.

There was a massive white closet with clothes of every color. Nike shoes were aligned neatly against the wall.
Oh and there was a 40 inch TV there, a queen sized bed, I believe, and something that looked like video games.

I never played that before but heard a couple of boys talking about it in 6th grade.

I glanced back at my sad room. It held a full body mirror (which was the most valuable in my room), the plastic bag, and an old mattress they found in the streets, just laying on the floor.

And I never complained.
I sighed.

Sometimes I would sneak into the basement to sleep, because they had a hammock in there.
It was way more comfortable than the mattress I have right at the moment.

I was found out a couple days ago when I did that, and yes, got a few new bruises.
Nothing bad.

But anyways, I got fit into the jeans and the black t-shirt.

I didn't have a comb so I just ruffled my fingers through my dirty hair, that I'm not allowed to wash.
They were afraid I would dirty their water.
Ha, how does that even work?