You Saved Me (A Dana Vaughns Fanfic)

Chapter 1

Beep beep! Beep beep! I slowly opened my eyes and looked at my alarm clock. 7:30 a.m.

"Ughhh." I mumble reaching over to turn it off.

I make my way to the bathroom to take a shower, brush my teeth, and put on some make-up. Then I pad into my room to get dressed. We have to wear uniforms at my school, Oakbrooke Academy. Girls have to wear a plaid navy blue and white skirt, white or navy blue knee-high socks and a light blue or white buttoned down shirt.
*Outfit on the side*
After getting dressed, I grab my backpack and phone and go into the kitchen. I hear my mom snoring softly and assume she is in the same place I left her last night. Quietly, I go to the cabinet and grab a pop-tart for breakfast. Then I get a bottle of water from the fridge and head out the door.

I take my time walking to school, eating my pop-tart. Oakbrooke Academy is only a few streets from the apartment I live in. Mostly everything is walking distance, even the beach is close. I go there almost everyday, to draw and soak up some rays. But mostly I go to escape from my life at home. I hate living with my evil, drunken mother. But what can I do? I don't think I'm old enough to legally live on my own. Besides, I have no idea what I'd do by myself. Truth be told, she's the only one I have in my life.

I walk into school just as the tardy bell rings. I really don't care if I'm late, I hate my first hour teacher anyway. I take my time going to my locker, unlocking it, and getting all of my books. As I zip my backpack back up, I hear a group of girls giggling as they walk towards me. I turn my head to look at the group coming my way and roll my eyes at who I see. Cheerleaders. The cheerleading squad thinks that they practically rule the school with their mini skirts, which is against dress code, and fake long hair with equally as fake blonde highlights. They're so cliché it makes me want to vomit.

"Hey loser, nice shoes! Where did you get them the dumpster outside Walmart?" The queen bee of the squad, Jessica Goldsworthy, calls to me. Her posse goes into a fit of giggles as if her comment was actually witty.

"You know what? I did actually! I'm sure it was in the same place you got your personality!" I snap turning to face her.

Jessica's eyebrows shoot up. She walks up and stands in front of me so our faces are inches apart. I don't hold my glare and neither does she. We stand there challenging each other with our eyes. After about two minutes Jessica finally steps back. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me. Her minions, almost as if on cue, stands behind her doing the same. Its kind of creepy having them shoot death stares at me so I decide to ignore them, turning back to my locker. Jessica scoffs as she starts to walk down the hallway. After a couple steps she turns back and looks at me again.

"This isn't over loser." She hisses. She then turns snapping her fingers, signaling her squad to follow her.

Once they are out of sight I slam my locker door shut and trudge to class.

***

I am so relieved when the last bell of the day finally rings. I quickly rush out of class, dodging everyone walking the opposite direction of me. I race home. Going to my room, I close the door behind me. I throw off my uniform and jump into my favorite swimsuit: a white bandeau with rhinestones in the middle and a hot pink bikini bottom. I slid on my white flip-flops and grab my beach bag which contains a sketch pad, pencils, paintbrushes and water color. I drape my beach towel over my shoulder and perch my sunglasses on the top of my head. As I emerge out of my room, I run into my mom heading out of the bathroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" She barks.

"The beach." I reply striding past her.

"Oh no you don't." She says, "Did you finish your homework?"

"Yep." No.

"Did you clean the kitchen or the bathroom?"

"Well no but-" I start.

"Did you clean my bedroom?" My mother interrupts.

"No, I will when I-"

"You are not leaving this apartment until every room is spotless. Understand?"

"Yes." I mumble.

"Good." My mom goes to the kitchen and grabs her keys off the kitchen counter. She pats me on the head as she walks past me to the front door.

"Bye Magdalena-ella. Have fun." Then she laughs. It sounds similar to a witches cackle.

I stand right where I am, fuming, as the door shuts behind her. I hate that woman so much. Screw her! An hour at the beach won't hurt. Besides, my mom will stumble in around 4 a.m anyway, forgetting all about the stupid chores which are more like grueling tasks of intense labor if you ask me.