Okay so after I read Mad's suggestions I revised this and added much more. Thank you so much Mad for your opinion.

I remember the day perfectly. I was sitting in my biology class, half listening to Mrs. Colons speak. Basically I was jsut writing song lyrics in the margin of my notes, Folsom Prison Blues, by Johnny Cash. I was writing my favorite part: "When i was just a baby my mama told me "Son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns," But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die". Just as i wrote that last word the principle, Mr. Green, walked into the classroom.

He said some words to Mrs. Colons then told me to follow him to his office. He waited patiently, draging a hankercheif over his sweaty forehead, as i rose from my seat, lowered my uniform skirt to the appropriate length and walked out to the hall. He walked with me over to his office down the chipped tiled halls with ivory walls, chipped with the old age of the school. it was ordinarily a short walk to his office but took forever. I didn't think twice about the reason he may need to talk to me, I just thought he was having meetings with all the kids so he could actually feel his job was important. I was way off.

He ushered me into his small office. In one of the green plastic cushioned chairs my guidance counsellor sat, fidling with her pocket organizer. She quickly put it away once we walked in, like she was scared Mr. Green would give her a detention. I stifled a laugh. I sat in the chair next to my counselor and waited for Mr. Green to sit down behind his faded desk. He again wiped his head and neck, then cleared his throat several times before giving me the worst news of my life.

"Danielle, as you know your mother's in surgery. I'm so sorry but she went into shock during the operation and pased away." I felt my heart stop and my eyes widen. I blinked and hoped my friends would rush into the office holding up a sign saying 'You've been Punk'd' and I could go see my mother. The hope was in vain. My counsellor put her hand on my shoulder. The coldest touch of my life. It was like her being there was a favor to me. Like someone I've never talked to for longer than five minutes helping give the news that my mom had died would help me, I hated both of them so much. Mr. Green cringed away from me as he spoke again, probably afraid I was going to cry. "I've been told by your neighbor to send you to your apartment building where he'll take you to the hospital. A bus is leaving in ten minutes so gather your stuff and head out. Again, Danielle, I'm sorry." Wow that was cold. Giving me that news then telling me to leave, very comforting Mr. Green thanks.

I didn't shed a tear, I just went into the classroom, picked up my books and looked into my best friends face. She could see something was wrong but I just walked away, not even saying goodbye. I walked into the bright light of the hall, and for a brief second something out in the window caught my eye. It was a small robin, sitting on a branch basking in the sunlight. How could it be so nice outside when my whole entire world just collapsed. I was filled with such an irrational sense of hate. Hate for everyone who was somewhat happy in the world. I walked down the flights of stairs to my locker. I pressed my head to the cold blue metal and attempted to get my lock open. Three digits, that's all I needed to remember, it sounds easy but at that moment it was the most difficult thing. I tried ten times unsuccessfullly before getting aggravated, then I started hitting the locker. Around me I heard teachers scoff and close their doors. I was hitting and kicking the hunk of metal when the tears appeared. I finally gave up, pressing my face against the cool locker, lettting the tears fall when he came.

His name was Ethan, the exchange student from England. His accent, though, wasn't the only cute part about him. He had pale porclein skin, with contrasting ebony hair, and stunning clear blue eyes. He wore a leather jacket over the uniform shirts all the time and was never in class, though he still got straight A's.

"Do you need help?" he asked. I just stopped aside and brushed my tears away. "What's your combination?"

"2-31-5" I replied sniffiling. He got it open on the first try. I murmured a thank-you and reached for my jacket.

"I don't believe we've been properly inroduced, I'm Ethan Broidy, and you are?" he asked holding out his hand.

"I'm Danielle White, my friends call me Dani." I replied weakly shaking his hand. I grimmiced at his sencerity. I hated that even though I was so angry, someone could still find a way to be polite. I didnt give him a chance to ask another question, I just walked away without closing my locker. The tears returned as I heard him close my locker.

I slowly walked out to the bust stop, trying to find a reason to even move. My mom was the only relative I had left. Her and my dad had divorced years ago, and I hadn't seen him for the last two years. Was there even a reason I shouldn't throw myself infront of that bus? No, I thought, She wouldn't ever want me to do that. She would want me to live without her, no matter the pain. The bus screeched to a stop and I boarded the cab, depositing my dollar fair. A dollar, to bring me to the rest of my sad life alone. The bus was crowded that day, full of people who maybe had a purpose in life, people running away from troubles, people who were going to be reunited with their friends and families. They all stared at me, the girl who was out of school too early with tears streaming down her face. I desperatley wanted to know what they were thinking. Did they even care why, or did they just think I was another mentally instable person? The bus finally started struggling up the hill and they all stopped looking at me.

I watched one person in particular sitting across from me. He was loudly talking on his small silver cell phone. He was screaming at the person on the other line, his neck fat quivering with each word he spat out. I felt bad for the person on the other line, they must be crying so hard at the ferocity of his cruel words. From what I heard from his side of the conversation he was yelling at some doctor, or medically trained person, screaming about how his surgery didnt work. Suddenly I fell into a dream, still gazing unseeing at the man.

I was back in the hospital room, watching my mother on the bed as she was being prepped for surgery. I begged her to let me stay during the course of the surgery, but she refused.

"Dani, there is no reason for you to stay. Hoey, I'll be perfectly fine, I promise. It's only surgery on my knee." When I was six her leg got crushed by a peice of falling sheetrock at our apartment, that was the year they got divorced. I had always thought it was my fault the rock fell because I was jumping around the new addition and she came to get me out of there.

"But, mom, there's no reason for me to be in school. I will just be worrying about you every second." I said.

"Don't worry baby, I'll be fine." Her speech was slurred and her eyes drooped shut, the medicine was starting to work. The nurses rushed me out of the room after letting me give her a quick kiss on the cheek, I never got to say good bye.

"What are you looking at?!" The man's angry voice snapped me out of my dream. I quickly diverted my eyes from his chubby red face to the window. The green trees rushed by in a blur, changing into buildings. Before I knew it I was infront of my apartment building. The red bricked building felt empty as i climbed the stairs up to my neighbor's room. The peeling wallpaper didn't hold the comfort it usually did. I picked at a piece and dragged it along with me to the room. Peeling away part of the wall, peeling away part of my life.

----------------

Okay I typed up the second half of the chapter:

That's the day my mother died. After spending two weeks with my thirty year old neighbor, Brad, I was sent to live with my father. Brad was my mother's best friend and bassically my dad. My biological father's name is Miles, I hadn't seen him two years, avoiding him with every escuse possible, and his fiance, Beth. Beth has a younger daugheter who was ten, five years younger than myself, Samantha. My soon to be step-mom and sister despise me and I them. But don't worry, there are no talking mice or glass slippers in this story. When I arrived I was greeted with fake warmth and love.

Instead of the one rom apartment I was used to I had to live in an elaborate condominium. My middle-aged father answered the door and embraced me in an awkward hug.

"Dani, you've grown so much." My father said. His eyes crinckled at the edges as he smiled at me.

"Hey, Dad" I replied flashing him a quick smile.

"Danielle, oh, Miles has told me so much about you!" Beth said as she ran towards me to hug me like I was her long lost daughter. "You can play five instruments, wow!" I smiled and meekly nodded. We stood in silence for about five minutes before I spoke again.

"Um, if you'll excuse me I'm just going to drop these bags in my room. Brad's comming by later with my instruments and the rest of my stuff." I quickly walked up the stairs to what used to be my room but when I opened the door it looked like it belonged to a five year old. My dad and Beth were quietly following me at my heels.

"Dani, I'm sorry but we had to give your room to Sammy, she's Beth's daughter," my dad apologized.

"I hope you don't mind," Beth said walking towards me. "She likes to be close to me."

"Where do I sleep?" I asked. At the question my dad pulled down the stair case to the attic. I sighed, this was begining to sound more and more like a Cinderella story. "You're making me sleep in the attic?"

"Dani, we finished it, there's heat and air conditioning, and you even have your own bathroom." my dad quickly explained. He lowered his eyes, he hated awkward moments as much as I did.

"Don't worry, dad, it's fine." I said. "At least I'll fnally have enough room for my music and art supplies." I attempted to make my voice sound cheerful, I failed miserably. I climbed the steps and entered my new room.

It had high arched ceilings formed like the roof and cold, hard concrete floors. The walls were covered in white plaster and around the one window was this yellow foam, sealing it. Apparently my dad had tried to do this himself. The one window was the shape of a church stained glass window and reached from the floor to the ceiling. I glanced around the long room. Against one wall was a queen sized bed covered with an old quilt my grandmother had knitted before she died and a beaurau, at the other end there was a pile of boxes my dad forgot to take down to the basement. Yes, I thought to myself, this room is perfect.

After convincing them the room was great my dad and Beth went back downstairs while I unpacked. I dropped my two bags of clothes and my box of posters on my bed and started putting my clothes away. On the bearau was a mirror, I looked in and gazed at my reflection.

All my insecurities returned. I have big eyes, way too big for my small frame. My lips are thin and my skin is tanned. I like my golden brown curly hair and my sun kissed complexion but I still hate the rest of my appearance. I am very skinny and my arms are like two twigs protruding from my body, I'm only five feet tall. I tried to distract myself from my insecurities and sadness by thinking of Beth and my dad. They were an awkward couple. Beth was very young, she had blue eyes and bleach blonde hair, that was pulled away from her face, she always wore mini skirts and tight tube tops. My dad looked a couple decades older than he actually was when standing next to Beth. His grey hair was thining and he had a beer gut covered by flannal shirts. He just an inch taller than me and had the faint traces of a beard on his face.

I began putting my clothes away again, continuing through my Catholic school uniforms. I go to Sacred Heart Cathedral Preperatory, in San Francisco, California. We're a co-ed high school and have hedious uniforms. I hate to wear a white blouse, tucked into a green plaid skrt and white knee highs. I have a pair of black high heels which complete the uniform, although I would much rather wear sneakers. But, hey, I don't make the rules.

Just when I was done putting away all my lothes the door bell rang. I rushed down the carpeted stairs and opened the heavy cherry wood door. On the porch was a man holding two cases by his side. His familiar face comforted me. It was Brad.

"Hey, Dani, where do you want this stuff?" he asked.

"Just set it over there at the foot of the stairs and we'll bring my other stuff in." Brad put the cases down and turned towards me. I rushed into his arms and hugged him. He seemed surprised, then started to stroke my hair.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured.

"Better," I whispered.

"Good. Now let's get the rest of your stuff." We spent the rest of the afternoon setting up my drums, guitar, bass, electric violin and keyboard in my new room along with their stands and various amps. We also set up my easle and canvases. If you can't tell by now, I'm very artistic.

By the time I was done setting up my musical corner and all my posters were in place it was ten PM. I climbed into the large bed after saying a quick good night to my dad, Beth and Sammy and awaited morning. My first day back at school since she died.