E D I T E D : J U L Y 2 8 , 2 0 1 7
•°•°•
"Emery Blaire Clarke! Get your ass down here!" My mother yells up the stairs.
My eyes widen, and I grab my bag and run down. "Yes Mom?"
"Don't pretence to be so innocent," she snarls. "I know you did something with my alcohol!"
"I didn't do anything to your alcohol, Mom," I say reasonably. I try not to show how scared I am that she's going hit me, once again.
"Bullshit! Tell me the truth right now young lady!" She grabs me by the hair, pulling at my scalp.
I yelp in pain. "You drank it! You drank it all! I didn't do anything!"
"We'll finish this later, Emery. You have school. But first," she pulled out her pocket knife, and I scoot away. "This is for lying to me." She slices a thin cut along my arm, then turns away.
It stings, but it isn't as bad as some of the things she's done to me. As usual though, my eyes well up with tears as I leave the old, dirty house.
I walk to school everyday. So about halfway there, I stop and sit on the sidewalk, cleaning and dressing the cut. Then I slip on my hoodie, as usual, to hide old bruises and scars.
When I get to school, I quickly go to my locker and put away the books I wouldn't need for a while. I hurry to my next class, wincing when someone would bump into my already bruised body.
I make the mistake of looking up and my eyes lock with the most popular guy in school's- Seth Finley. He was said to be very nice, with a charming personality.
When his blue eyes lock with my pale green ones, I know my life isn't about to let me have a break.
He smiles, waving. I quickly look down, shuffling faster to get to my class. I don't even know Seth, and yet he waved at me?
•°•°•
At this school, we're separated into what we call 'The Cliques'. There's the nerds (like I apparently am, although my grades are terrible), the averages, the stoners/freaks, the jocks, the queen bee and her cronies, and last but not least, the king of the school, Seth Finley.
At lunch, we're separated out, too. The middle tables are for the populars and the jocks. The average sit around them, and the nerds and freaks sit at the back tables, farthest away from everyone else.
So I sit at my usual seat, in the back corner, where trash won't get dumped on you and nobody bothers you. I change the bandage on my arm, realizing I haven't done that yet.
"What happened?" A male voice asks. I swear I jump ten feet in the air.
I look up, finding those familiar blue eyes. He's leaning on the table, his chin on his hand, brown hair brushing his forehead.
I stutter for a response. I can't exactly tell him what happened, can I? But luckily, Seth takes my stuttering for confusion.
"I haven't introduced myself, now have I?" He laughs. "Sorry about that. I'm Seth Finley."
"I-I know who you a-are," the words stumble out of my mouth. "But why are you talking to me?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Seth asks, his face morphing into confusion. "What's your name?"
"Emery Clarke," I say, still baffled that he was talking to me.
"Pretty name," Seth tells me, flashing another charming smile.
"Seth, baby, why did you leave our table?" The queen bee, Stephanie Hanover, asks, draping herself on Seth's arm. She glares at me before putting on a sweet smile.
"I felt like talking to this girl," Seth says, his eyes studying me. He gently removes her arms from his body, obviously not interested.
I look down at the table, messing with a loose string on the sleeve of my hoodie. "But why...her? We're so much more interesting over there," Stephanie tries to persuade.
"But I know everyone over there. I don't know Emery."
"Oh, so that's the bitch's name," she mutters. The bell rings, and I shoot up out of my seat. I grab my bag and rush out, glad to be away from the attention.
What is Seth paying attention to me of all people?
•°•°•
"Wow, Seth was talking to her?"
"Oh my gosh, such a slut."
"I can't believe Seth would waste his time on that bitch when he could have me."
As I scurry out of the school, insults are thrown at me left and right. People whisper rude things to their friends, cackling.
I try to ignore it, busying myself with thoughts of puppies. That usually helps, right?
No, it doesn't.
I sniff, my body cold from the fall season. Even though the sun is shining, there was still an unmistakable chill to the air, signaling winter's soon arrival.
"You need a ride?" I look over, finding Seth in his big black pick up truck. The only thing I know about it was that it had a Chevrolet symbol on it and is probably very expensive.
"No, thanks," I decline, shaking my head. I start walking again.
"Come on, I don't mind. Plus it's cold as hell out here," Seth says, laughing.
"I've always thought hell was supposed to be hot," I say, not even realizing what I was saying.
"Maybe it was so hot it was cold? You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I guess it could be. I'll tell you when I get there," I blurt out.
"What make you think that?" Seth asks, still driving slowly beside me, his arm around the headrest of the passenger seat.
I shrug. "Lots of things."
"We'll see about that," Seth says. "Hop in, I'll drive you home."
"You live in the other side of town," I argue, stopping on the sidewalk. No, I do not stalk him. The point is, every one knows he lives in the richer part of town.
"So? It's not like I have anywhere to be." Seth really wants to drive me home, doesn't he?
"It's cool. Stephanie is probably dying to see you anyways," I try to reason.
Seth wrinkles his nose. "But I don't want to see her. She just likes me because I'm popular. And apparently I'm pretty."
I laugh, a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. "Pretty?"
"Yup. Plenty of people have said that, but I prefer handsome." He makes a weird face, then breaks out laughing.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay to what?"
"Okay as in you can drive me home. But just because I don't feel like walking," I say. Seth grins, unlocking the door.
I realize how tall the truck is in comparison to me. After opening the door, I reach up onto my tip toes and grab the handle.
I pull myself in, shutting the door and buckling. "You almost didn't make it." Seth laughs.
"It's not my fault this thing is really tall," I defend, crossing my arms. I give him my address.
"But you're pretty short, so..."
"I am 5'5, thank you. But you're like a giraffe."
"I am 6'0, thank you very much."
I don't know why I find it so easy to talk to him. Seth just seems like a naturally likable person.
You can't let him get close, Emery. He'll only be hurt in the end.
I sigh, turning to the window. "What's wrong?" He asks.
"Nothing," I respond.
Seth stays silent, but I catch him glancing at me a couple times. We pull up to my small and dirty house with an overgrown lawn.
"Thanks for the ride, Seth."
"Anytime."
•°•°•