Shattered

Black Car

Welcome, absolutely no one! Nice to have ya! I'm Briella, an amateur at best, and this is a story that I'm working on. If by chance there is someone actually reading then OHMYGOSH JEEZ THAT"S FANTAST... 

Sorry... Anyways, I'd like to introduce you to my dear friend Grace, or so we call her for now.

Enjoy, 

<3Briella<3

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I strategically shoved my way through the masses of people in the hallway as I always had from what I could recall. My head at its usual position, low, and my eyes dipping to the floor tiles along with it. The sound of hurried footsteps created by various shoes flashed through my ears and into my brain between every one of my classes, never any faces. My ears would always have a pair of headphones firmly pushed in them to help the avoidance along in its perpetuity. The earbuds were plugged into absolutely nothing of course, simply tucked into the pocket of one of my drab hoodies as a plain and simple warning to anyone and everyone that they should stay away. At first, people had believed I was just occupied with my music and that by tapping my shoulder and attempting at small talk wouldn't disturb me one bit. Those people quickly learned from their mistakes, never to go upon the endeavor to talk with me politely again. It wasn't that I was mean, or hostile. It wasn't that when their index fingers met with my shoulder, lightly tapping there, I turned and glared at them in the worst way possible. It was just that I was nobody, and pretending that I was in fact somebody was useless. I knew that, and eventually they would too, so there was no real purpose in playing the prolonged game of pretend.

However, quite a few people believed the headphones meant I couldn't hear any of what they were saying while they occupied my ears. I knew this since they would never say the things they did if I could. Passing by a group of sparsely dressed girls, meaning the amount of skin they were showing was anything but sparse, the thought was proven.

"What is she mute?" one of the Barbies suggested with the others snickering in response. "It's a shame really, what an outcast she is. It must be the foster kid thing. They're always messed up one way or another." The girls laughed, but it instantly ceased as the lead Barbie's long glossy hair somehow got stuck in her locker, a small chuckle escaping my lips as it did.

I walked into the classroom and headed straight to my usual seat in the very back corner with my books clung tight to my chest. Settling into the hard chair and watching my teacher, Mr. Renald, scrawl the year 1802 on the blackboard, a herd of jocks shuffled through the doorway, stumbling into some desks and paying no notice to me. I pulled the hood of my pale pink hoodie over my head and laid my head down on the desk, my wavy brown hair crowding my face as my eyelids shut.

The room slowly filled to its brim with laughter and pointless chatter that had no relevance to me. My plan everyday was to go to class, leave class, and then leave school and walk to my current home four doors down from Oakley Ridge, the poor excuse for a school I attended. It was quaint and lacking money in the unknown town of Boatwright, Ohio. A town located on a single road that you would miss in a blink of an eye. It was a town no one moved to and no one moved out of.

I hadn't noticed class had started due to pulling yet another one of my mental disappearing acts when Mr. Renald called my name for what I guessed to be the third, or fourth, or thousandth time. "Grace!" I flung my head up and tore the earbuds from my ears despite their silence.
"Sorry," I began. "What?" The class laughed at me as usual. I just ignored them and focused in on Mr. Renald and the disapproving glare he had adopted towards me.
"Time to pay attention. I've let it slide for a while, but you have been here for a year now. It's time you actually make an effort in my class," he lectured and I nodded to please him. The class all stared right at me, mumbling words like freak and loser and foster kid.