Present Day, Fore Years Later~
Emma's Point of View;
"Hey Emma!" the voice I dreaded since sixth grade rang out with others. I turned to look at Lilly and her gang. I dropped my eyes, not wanting to meet the judging ones of my pears. They knew what was going to happen, they all did... they just decided not to help.
"Hey, bitch she's talking to you!" Clare, one of the blond headed girls yelled for everyone to hear. The people around me either snickered or held in he dread they get, if they felt anything at all.
Zoey pushed me down and I dropped all my books. Rachael, the one that called me, kicked me in the head. I held in a scream from the in packed I got from it. Clare kneeled down, so she was eye level with. She grabbed a fistful of my brown hair and held my face close to hers while she spoke." Emma, Emma, Emma. When will you learn that all the studying you do, all the salid you eat, you will always be at the bottom Nobody lovers you, much or less like you. Your a nobody. Now I can understand why your mother left... your pathetic!" she spit the words at me as if it was venom.
Yes she knew, how- do you ask? We used to be great friends, telling each other everything. Now she used it against me. Telling me its always my fault, but she doesn't have too... because i already know it is.
With one last kick to the gut they walked off in their five inch heels.
I got up quickly, taking my books and blue backpack with me.
I ran/limped out of the hell hole I called school and ran. I didn't know where I was going, but u hoped it was somewhere better then my own life.
I stopped as I came across an alley. Broken speakers were hear and there... God New York, you could at lest clean up, I thought.
I sat my backpack down on the wet ground, taking out a blue hair tie I tied up my chocolate brown hair into a bun. I picked up my bag and turned to find a guy leaning on the wall beside me.
I gulped.
YOU ARE READING
My Fighting Angle
Teen FictionEmma Smith. Simple person. Simple name. But not a simple life. Her mother walked out on her father, her sister, and her. The sister has died. Emma feels nothing. Her mother hates her. Thinking the oldest daughter died because of Emma, who was 12 at...
