How To Change Completely

When you read the first sentence of the introduction, I bet you thought Ashlee was going to narrate the story. If you were hoping so, then I ask you to not be disappointed. My perspective is just as bad as hers.

Where do I begin? I'm not entirely sure. I should probably start off with my history, age, and favorite color maybe. That's how all the good books start off, right? Well, this isn't supposed to be a good book, so fuck all that.

I think I'll cut to the chase for you. The beginning of seventh grade. When I first met Ashlee. I still can't believe she used to hate me. Anyway, let's begin the storytelling.

I got out of the car, not bothering to say goodbye and slamming the door. It was an okay car, colored silver. It was a convertible, which was the only good thing about the piece of junk. I sighed, hoping that this year would be different. New school, new kids, new everything.

I plugged in my headphones and shuffled music from Ghost Town. I had only recently started listening to this band. Black Veil Brides will always be my favorite, though. I lightly hummed along to You're So Creepy as I walked down the hallway at exactly eight in the morning.

I persuaded my mother to take me to Starbucks along the way, so a cup of mocha with whipped cream was in my hand. Barely anyone was there. I shrugged, setting my backpack against the wall of my first period class.

I looked at at the sheet of paper in my other hand. It was my schedule that had come in the mail last week. I looked up, making sure that I was at B7. I decided to sit down on a bench nearby, taking a sip of coffee.

A few minutes later, I saw a clique of around five girls come through the hallway. I didn't pay them much attention, even as they gaped at me like I was an alien. A girl whispered to another, "Who is she?" She shrugged.

They continued whispering, which I could hear through my music. Finally, I looked up, looking at them challengingly in the eye. "Please do realize that a) I'm not a maniac and b) I can fucking hear you."

They stared at me a bit more, and then said in the eeriest unison, "Sorry." Now, a few more people were there. The girls walked past, and most kids didn't pay much attention to me.

Soon enough, it was time for class. I finished up the cold mocha, scoring it into the trashcan. Everyone piled into the classroom. I looked around for my desk, finding it by the window. There were three people already at my table, and they all looked at me with mouths wide open.

"Close your mouths. You'll catch flies," I remarked, smirking a little. This was going to be a great year. I had a gut feeling about that.

Notes