Beliefs Rewritten

Chapter 1-

Chapter 1:

Walking through the halls of Westview High, I'm immediately shoved against the first row of lockers by one of my sister's friends, Tamara. She laughs at my pathetic self while I roll my eyes and move on with my day, dodging others who are running and being reckless through the halls. I finally make it to my locker and take my books that I need for the first half of the day out, making sure I have one of my notebooks with me to distract myself from the nonsense of high school. I close my locker gently before turning around and starting to walk towards my first period class: Geometry.

I slowly walk towards the sophmore pod, once again trying to avoid being shoved and hit by the rowdy teenagers I call my classmates. While scooting past a group of football players, I narrowly miss being shoved into the ground by an extremely tall guy dressed in all black. I turn around just in time to briefly catch the face of him and when I do, my eyes widen. Andy Biersack, the wannabe rock star of Westview High. Whether you want to or not, you know him, or in better terms, know of him. He's part of the popular crowd and caused my best friend to leave me. Hearing that he had liked her and knowing that she had a huge crush on him, it was bound to happen. I knew she would choose fake love over her best friend. Now she's apart of the volleyball team and is better friends with my sister than we ever were. Sighing, I continue my way to class, getting in and walking to the back where no one ever looks and sit down, pulling my notebook out and writing down my feelings.

The day passes slowly, but eventually, lunch time rolls around. I go back to my locker, switching my books out before heading towards the cafeteria. I go up to the kitchen and grab an apple and pay, leaving the cafeteria for the freshman pod. I sigh lightly, setting my stuff down on a table and sitting in the booth right in front of it, getting out my notebook so I can continue to write.

After a while, I had eaten my apple and written at least three pages front and back that were filled with ideas for my assignment. I check the time and notice that I have roughly ten minutes before class. I close my notebook, gathering my things and start to make my way to Biology. While walking, I get a message from my sister, Stella. I eternally groan, opening the message, becoming confused almost immediately.

Stella: Cassy is looking for you raging. Muttering about how you almost hurt her soon-to-be boyfriend. What the hell did you do?

I have no more time to think about it before my books are knocked out of my hands and I'm slammed against the forest green lockers. Without having to look up, I know that it's Cassy. Cassy is also part of the popular crowd and loves to torment me whenever she gets the chance. Remember my old best friend I was talking about earlier? Yeah? Well, she's become one of Cassy's little minions. I'm pulled from my thoughts by being smacked across the face. I look up into the angry eyes of Cassy, just wanting this to be done and over with. "What do you want, Cassy?" I ask, a bored tone coming through.

"You need to learn to stay away from my people, especially my boyfriend," she spat.

I rolled my eyes. "I haven't been near any of your minions. Not to mention, I don't even know who you're dating."

"Sure you don't," she sarcastically said before punching me in the face and sauntering off. I inaudibly growl, picking up my books and stalking off towards the biology lab.

I walk in with a few minutes to spare and see Mr. Simps, or as we call him, Mr. S doing some paper work. I slam my books down on my desk causing him to look up and gasp a little bit too dramatically. I go over to one of the sinks and turn the water on slightly so it doesn't spray everywhere and grab a paper towel, wetting it and applying it to my lip while putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding. He walks over to me and moves my hand, examining the damage and sighing, moving my hand back. He leans against the desk behind him with his arms crossed, staring at me expectantly. "What?" I question, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

"Are you ever going to tell me who is doing this to you?" he finally asks and my eyes immediately shift to the floor, shaking my head slightly. "I'm tired of seeing you walk in every other day with some sort of damage done to your face, Bridgett. Just tell me and we can get the problem solved."

"It's fine, I'm fine. I'll be okay," I try to reassure him, but he looks at me skeptically. I stare back, and after a few seconds, he sighs, walking back to his desk to set up the power point for today's lesson. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding before throwing the paper towel away and going back and sitting at my desk, watching as students fill the classroom slowly. Once the room is filled, Mr. S starts the lesson for the day while the rest of us sit and take notes, or for most, write or doodle something so it looks like they are paying attention. After a grueling long hour, the bell rings, signaling the end of fifth period and to hurry to sixth period, which is my study hall.

Study hall passes quickly and soon enough, it's time for creative writing. I smile slightly, walking to my locker and pulling my bags out, putting my stuff in their respectful bag. I stand up from the ground and close my locker, rushing to get to the writing labs. I step into the room and my shoulders drop, knowing that while I'm here in this room, no one will judge me for what I write and for who I am, not even the teacher. I go over to my assigned area and get everything out, ready to tackle the day's work. When the bell rings, the teacher, Ms. Algara, goes over a few things before allowing us to continue with our assignments.

Our assignment is to write a short story, fictional or nonfictional, and at the beginning of the new term, they will be judged by Ms. Algara and other English teachers. Parents, friends, anyone really, can come on that one night and read what has been written, but the winner's work gets to be read aloud in front of those who attend the showcase. To others, what I'm doing may seem like fiction, but to me, it's more or less a memoir. I write about my life: school, family, old friends, enemies, everything.

The bell rings, announcing the end of the school day. While everyone else is packing up, I stay seated, wanting to finish what I'm writing so that way I don't lose the idea. A couple hours pass before one of the janitors, Ernie, tells me that they are going to be locking the school up. Smiling and nodding at him, I save what I have done and pack my things, doing the normal routine that I always do before leaving.

I get home, but before I can make it up the steps, my mom and dad shout for me from the living room. I sigh, dropping my things, making my way towards said room, wondering what they want. I go over to the couch and sit down, twirling my dyed, bright red hair around my finger. I wait for them to tell me what they need, but before they have a chance to, Stella walks into the room in a dress, informing our parents that she is heading to a party with Cassy and Kiersten, my old best friend. I roll my eyes, watching her walk out the front door and hearing the sound of a car rev up and drive away.

I look back at my parents and notice something different about them. They look older than they should, considering they are only in their mid-forties. They both have bags and dark circles under their eyes, and more gray hair than my grandparents ever had. They smile gently at me, to which I return. "What did you guys need?"

"You know how winter homecoming is approaching quickly, yes?" mom asks, and I nod, curious as to why that would concern me considering I don't have a date and never go to the school dances. "Well, your father and I have decided that you are going this year."

My eyes widen in surprise and my jaw drops. "What? Why?!" I exclaim.

"We just need you to keep an eye on your sister," my dad explains, and I huff.

"I am not her baby sitter. She is almost eighteen, and I just turned sixteen. She can take care of herself," I object.

"She really can't though. You are the most responsible one, and you are going to that dance whether you want to or not. I already got you a dress," mom demands.

"Okay," I mutter, standing up and leaving the room. I go back to the staircase and pick my stuff up, making my way up the steps and to my room. I open my door and throw my stuff down once more by my desk before flopping down on my bed and putting my arms over my face to block the glare of my light.

Homecoming is Friday, and then after that, we are off for winter break. I just have to get through the week and then I won't have to see anyone for a good two weeks, with the exception of Stella. Let's do this.