This is based on the book "The Awakening" by Samantha Hoffman. I change the characters names, but I'm using some of the story line for it. Enjoy :)
I dart across the parking lot, pulling my hood up over my head to keep it dry. The dark rain clouds covering the sun make it impossible to see clearly. I follow the sounds of other students are making up to the front door of the school.
When I step into the brightly lit entry way I shake the rain water off refraining from making my backpack more wet than it had been.
Walking to my locker, I try to keep my head down. I try to ignore the students around me giving me weird looks, as I pass by them. Some even begin to whisper. I try to ignore them, but it's hard.
"Oh my gosh. Do you think she helped her do it?"
"Only she would be friends with that freak."
I stop in front of my locker and spin around in search for who last spoke. I'm not surprised to find Bridget. She's Queen B of the school and makes sure everyone knows it. She has no issue with letting people know what she thinks of them. But for some reason, I'm one of her favorite punching bags.
She sees me looking and gives a hard glare at me.
"She wasn't a freak."
My fist curls at my sides at the mention of my best friend's name. It's only been three weeks since her funeral, and I've done nothing but miss her.
Hearing Bridget say something bad about Angelina like that makes me want to wring her neck. I need to keep my temper in check, last thing I need is to be expelled.
"You're irrelevant."
She folds her arms and glares at me. "Why should I care what you think of me? And I can say what I please. Free country sweetie."
I start to think about the fun times Angelina and I would hang out and not worry about anybody else. She was my only friend I was myself around. She was like a sister to me; she would always hangout at my house. My mom loved her, she loved having her around. She is also one of the only people who knew about what had happened to my dad.
My mom had me when she was sixteen. Her and my dad, were together until we got in a car crash. We had gone out to eat as family, on our way home a drunk driver hit us.
Bridget claps her hands and I realize she's still talking. "I asked you a question bitch. Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break you out of your fantasies about your "best friend"?"
"In fact I wasn't bitch. Now what were you bitching about?"
She scoffed, "I said were you in love with her?"
"No I wasn't."
I'm trying to best I can to not rip her fake hair out of her head.
The bell rings, but I don't move. Neither does Bridget and her bitch gang. They watch my every move, just waiting for me to lash out at them. I take a deep breath, slam my locker and start to walk away.
I know Angelina wouldn't want me to fight them.
I stop in my tracks as Bridget speaks again. "I bet she killed herself because she couldn't stand what a freak she was."
I throw my bag on the ground and launch at her. She falls on the ground as I sit on top of her and start punching her face.
Before I could throw any more punches I am pulled off Bridget and slammed against a locker. Bridget's boyfriend, captain of the baseball team, he throws a punch towards my head, I move my head to the side and his fist comes in contact with the locker.
"Fuck!" He curses.
I take the chance and bring my knee to his groan and knee him hard. He kneels down and places his hands over his area. I slap the back of his head, and then punch his back.
My legs get swept out from under me and I land hard on the ground. My head lands hard against the floor of the hallway and things start to fade out.
---
When I wake up, I look around and see I'm in the nurse's office laying down on one of the beds.
"Why has she not been arrested yet!?" I hear someone yell from outside the room. Must be Bridget's parents yelling at the principle. "She attacked my daughter!"
"I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. We have several witnesses that say your daughter was taunting her. If she was trying to pick a fight with Mrs. Redding she is as involved as this as she is. Emma is an excellent student; she is just going through a rough time."
"I don't care if she is going through a rough time. It gives her no excuse to beat my daughter. My daughter is a caring, honest young lady; she deserves to be treated better than this. If you don't take action, we'll be suing the school."
I snort at what her mom said; Bridget is far from being a 'caring, honest young lady'. She is a total bitch, and she gets that from her mom.
"I'm truly sorry, but Emma Redding will not be expelled today or any other day. Although she will receive two week suspension for fighting."
"Are you serious!? That's it!?" Mrs. Hamilton hisses.
"Mrs. Hamilton, your daughter was a part of the fight as well. If I expel Emma I have to expel everyone involved. I'm sorry but this is my decision, not yours."
I hear sobbing and realize it's probably Bridget's 'innocent girl act'.
"This punishment is a joke!" Mr. Hamilton exclaims, "Two weeks for pummeling my daughters face? There is only a week before the spring formal and she can't go looking like this!"
"Mr. Hamilton," the principle tries to calm him down.
"What make Emma Redding so special that she gets to avoid a jail sentence for battery and assault?"
"Mr. Hamilton!"
In the three years I have been in this school, never once had I heard of Principal Thompson raise his voice, certainly not at a parent.
"My decision has been made," Principle Thompson said. "There is no changing it. Emma and your daughter will both be suspended for the mandatory two weeks. End of discussion."
Angry stomps and the office slamming shut were heard. I hopped off the bed and made my way to the door half way. Mr. Thompson peeked his head in and saw me, he frowns when he sees me. "How much of that did you hear?"
"Enough," I say watching him; "You really aren't going to expel me?"
He shakes his head. "Principle Thompson? Is my mom here yet? Does she know I've been suspended?" I ask him.
"They're waiting for you in the hall." I sigh. Great that means Patrick's with her.
I follow the principle out into the hall; sure enough my mom and Patrick were standing right there. Her eyes full with emotion I'm all too familiar with: disappointment.
When I look to Patrick, his eyes are filled with anger and disgust with me. He sees me as a waste of space. If it were up to him, I'd be stuck at boarding school or more preferably foster care.
My mom begins to speak but Patrick raises his hand signally her to not speak. She flinches. You can see the fear in her eyes. She's scared of him, but she doesn't want others to know it.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Answer me!" he warns, glaring down at me. I know this look; I'm too familiar with it. He's waiting for me to disobey him so he can feel justified in punishing me.
"I won?"
That's the wrong answer, and I know it the second it leaves my mouth. His hand lashes out at me and connects with my cheek. The sound echoes through the silent halls, and I lift my eyes up to meet his. "I'm kidding; I didn't really win."
He looks at me with that glare again, he wants to slap me again but the hall is beginning to build with students.
"We're leaving," he says, "Now."
I don't argue, I'm argumentative, not stupid.
*
When I get inside the house I walk straight to my room and shutting the door. I didn't want to stay down there and get yelled at or hit again by Patrick. I've been hit by him to many times. I'm done with him. I'm done with that school. I'm done with the place I call 'home'.
I hear a light knock on the door. "Come in."
I haven't even looked to see who it was to know it was my mom.
"Sweetie," she begins but I cut her off.
"No," I sit up on the bed getting to eye level with my mom, "I don't want to get another lecture about what I've done was wrong. It may have been wrong, but she was saying bad things about my best friend."
"I understand, but that gave you no right to beat that girl up." I don't say anything because I know I won't get anywhere with this conversation.
To them I'm in the wrong and they're right.
"Dinner will be ready around five." She huffed and got up and left my room, shutting the door.
I walk into my bathroom and turn the light on. My left eye and right cheek are both dark purple. My hair is all messy and tangled. And I have an incredible headache.
I open my medicine cabinet and take two ibreprophen.
I then turn my shower on and undress.
After about an hour in the shower, I finally get out and get dressed in pajamas.
When my mom calls me down for dinner, I walk down the stairs.
My nostrils fill with the scent of pasta sauce and garlic. We must be having spaghetti. As I enter the kitchen, I see I'm correct. This is my favorite meal. I cross my fingers and hope this dinner will be somewhat good.
We all dish our plates in silence and sit at the small dining table and start eating. I haven't looked up until I heard Patrick clear is throat. Patrick is at the head of the table while I'm at the opposite end, and my mom is to the right of Patrick.
"Your mother and I have decided your punishment," great. "You will be doing extra chores around the house and outside."
"That's unfair! She was taunting me!" I sounded completely childish, but I couldn't think of another way to put it. Bridget had it coming. She knew exactly what to do to push my buttons and she did exactly that.
"She may have, but you could have been the bigger person and walked away from it. Not attack her." I didn't bother saying anything; I got up and through my plate into the sink and started making my way upstairs.
Right as I got to the foot of the stairs my right arm was pulled into a strong grip. "I was talking to you. When I am talking to you, you do not get up and walk away from me until I say so," he said firmly.
"Let go of me, you're hurting me." I tried pulling his arm off, only to fail and his grip to tighten.
"Patrick let her go." My mom said as she walked towards us. She tried to pull his arm that was holding my own. His arm swung back and connected with the side of my mother's face. I gasp as she falls to the ground the great amount of impact. His grip had loosened and I kneeled down to my mom and lightly touched her cheek.
"You asshole!" I yelled at Patrick after looking at the now red cheek on my mom. My right are is hurting, I'm sure he left a bruise, third one today.
"Do not talk to me like that!" he yelled, and pulled on my hair causing me to fall on the ground. "Go to your room!" I quickly got to my feet and ran/crawled up the stairs and slammed my door shut and locked it.
I soon started hearing yelling downstairs, mostly from Patrick. I got my Iphone and put my head phones in and blasted my music.