500 word stories

Story Two - Mondays (1st Person)

I lay there. In the darkness. Hoping it would be over soon.

7 hours earlier

I had always been the one to hate Monday's. For one it meant going back to school. Going back to the bullies. Monday also meant that I was going round my dad's. I hated my dad because 'he wants a new life, a new start. ' Well that's what my mum told me. I could tell even though I was only 8, that my dad had cheated on my mum and I had felt horrible for the only person i loved truly.

Now being 13, I had a different life. I had recently started a new school in Year 9. I had struggled to make friends, I had struggled to keep in touch with my old friends but most importantly, I lost contact with my boyfriend, Cal. What I had heard from snapchat was that he had already moved on with another girl. I just forget about it.

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Running late into class I tripped up and my skirt flew upwards showing off my pants. Turning red with embarrassment, I picked up my books and sat down in my space right at the front.

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I struggled with my new school, Woodchester Manor High School is a very high academic school with outstanding results. The uniform is a burgundy blazer with a white blouse finished with a striped tie of burgandy and their house colour, for me this meant green. The skirts are moon-grey that needed to be knee-length but everyone ignored that rule. The timetable is simple: consisting of a two week rotation, 5 days a week and 5 lessons a day. Lunch is an hour and break 20 minutes.

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My first lesson was History. As most, I find this class boring as watching your brother complain about the footie on the TV. Second was Maths, I am quite good at maths. Break. Boring.Third was Re. Boring. Fourth was ICT. Boring. Lunch. Boring. Fifth was Pe. This is where the trouble started.

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Today they were picking teams for their class sports day. I, as always, was picked last accompanied with a groan in the team I was placed with.

Being slightly overfed, I am not the sportiest of all. Not to help that I suffer from Asthma. Yet there is Ethan but he is the cool ringleader of the boy's gang. Going out with the ringleader of the girls' gang. I wished I was more popular just so I could have a laugh on a day that couldn't get mulch worse. But I was wrong. Very wrong.

During the warm-up we had to do three laps of the field.
First lap; normal. Second lap; inhaler worthy. Third lap; Fatigue.

All I remembered was hands pushing me back. Making me fall. A laugh. The bullies.

I lay there. In the darkness. Hoping it would be over soon.

Blood trickled down my face like tears. The last thing I heard was the sirens of the ambulance.

A/N
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