IN LOVE WITH THE MIDDLE SCHOOL BAD BOY: Emma Grace Trilogy(Book One)

CHAPTER 2

  I get off the bus and walk straight into school, not wanting to face anymore of Axel's jeering. I walk into school and going as quickly as I can through the foyer. I bump into someone and look up at the person. I'm overjoyed to see that it's Simon, one of my good friends, though he's in seventh grade and I only just met him this year.

"Hey," he says, his familiar friendly smile on his face.

   "Hey," I say, putting on a fake smile. "I'm heading to my locker, can you come with me?"

  "Sure," he says, shrugging. We walk down the foyer and turn down another hallway. Soon, we reach my locker. I unlock it and pull out a bag filled with small shards of paper. I pop one of the shards in my mouth and chew it.

  "You really should stop doing that," says Simon.

  "Too bad," I say, laughing.

  "I'm serious," he says, "you could get sick." I shrug.

  "No one would care," I say.

  "I would!," he says.

  "Your friends wouldn't let you." I had met Simons friends once before, and that was enough. They don't like me, and I couldn't care less, I just added them to the list.

  We say goodbye and go our separate ways. You're allowed to walk around the school before first period, so I did what I usually do. I dropped my things off at my first period class and went into the halls. My desk partner, Joseph, watches me leave. We're decent friends, but his twin brother, Anthony, hates me. Why, I'm not sure.

   I walk around the halls, chewing the paper in my mouth as I go. I used to cut my wrist with a spork, but when the bloody spork was found in my locker, they had me see the social worker. So I took to chewing paper instead.

  I don't walk with anyone, and no one walks with me, and I'm cool with that, I actually prefer it. I spot Phillepe walking with a couple of pals ahead of me. I try to turn around and walk the other way, but he's already calling my name. His friends glare at me as I walk toward them. "Want to walk with us," he asks. I look at his friends, who are sending me icy glares. I may be tall for my age, but these guys play football, no way am I messing with them.

"No thanks," I say, and one of them, Dale, nods at me approvingly.

  "Aw come on," he says.

   "No Phillepe," I say, walking away.

I hear the others muttering things like, "bozo," and, "freak," as I walk away, but I just shrug it off.