As Melody walked through the hall, her uncle’s warning flashed through her mind. If anyone asks why you are enrolling in a new school in the middle of the year, just ignore the question. Melody’s uncle didn’t want people to know that her parents were killed in a car accident a year ago, and that she spent the year bouncing around from one relative to the next. And that her uncle was the last willing relative to take her in. But Melody doubted people would care why she was starting a new school in the middle of the year. With her dark hair streaked with neon colors, dark clothing, combat boots, and intense eyes people tended to avoid her. Not that she cared. All people do is lie, pretend to care, and turn around and stab you in the back. You’re better off alone.
The bell rang, snapping Melody out of her desolate thoughts, she glanced at her schedule. Algebra2: Room 3642. Great, math. What a great way to start the day ,she thought sarcastically. After a few minutes of navigating room3642, Melody took a seat in the back of the classroom. Thirty faces stared at her like she was an alien, but she was used to it. Not caring the teacher was looking, Melody pulled out her iPod. Scrolling through the playlist, she selected a depressing Emo song and turned up the volume. The music comforted Melody. It pulled her into a world where she could forget her pain and where she could relate to the singer’s and their lyrics. Any opportunity Melody had to just forget about the car accident that robbed her of everything important to her, she took. Soon the battery died and Melody was involuntarily pulled back to reality. She had no other choice but to listen to the teacher drone about pointless equations that she didn’t care about, understand, or would ever use outside of school.
Anxiously, Melody looked at the clock, waiting for the bell to ring. Every so often, the teacher would catch Melody staring at the clock and glare at her. She would glance at him for a moment before her eyes darted back to the clock. After what felt like forever, the bell rang. Melody jumped out of her seat, earning her a few snickers, but she didn’t care. After a while, you learned to get used to it.
As she was making her way to the door, the teacher cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Grey, we need to talk.” Melody’s temper flared. She hated being called “Mrs”, especially by a teacher. Eyes burning with defiance, she turned to him.
“Yes?” Melody asked, though the word came out as more of a challenge.
“Your behavior today was unacceptable, Mrs. Grey. I don’t know what your problem is…” That’s because you don’t know me,she thought. “…You will not keep behaving like that in my class. For your misbehavior, you have earned yourself detention. It’ll be a good time to make up your work.” Melody started to walk away since he finished his lecture, but he stopped her by clearing his throat again, this time louder with more force.
“Sir?” Melody said through gritted teeth.
“Give me your iPod. If you are going to misbehave in my class, you will suffer the consequences.” Hands trembling with anger, she retrieved the iPod out of her backpack, reluctantly placing it in his hand.
“Now I’ll write a note for your next class, Mrs. Grey,” he said, eyeing the iPod with distaste. When he looked up, Melody was gone, the sound of her combat boots clomping against the floor, fading into the distance.
The bell rang three times, dismissing students for the end of the day. Melody walked to her locker, loaded down with textbooks. She struggled with the combination for several minutes. Both resigned and frustrated she kicked the locker. So she would have to carry her books. Whatever. Someone approached, tapping Melody lightly on the shoulder. As she whirled around, she saw a boy standing in front of her, a stupid grin plastered on his face. Behind him stood his gang of friends with similar smiles on their faces.
“Excuse me, but do you need help? Melody stared at his lettermen jacket and her eyes narrowed distrustfully.A jock. Probably the quarterback or captain of the football team, the kind of guy that girls fight each other for. But the kind that dates you until a prettier girl comes along. He stared at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“No I don’t need your help,” she snapped. Melody. She continued struggling with the locker, aware of the jock’s friends’ stupid snickers.
“It’d be a lot of easier if you let me help you,” he said. Abruptly he asked, “What’s your name?”
“What’s your name?” Melody shot back, irritated at his randomness.
He smiled, flashing perfect white teeth as his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Eric,” he replied. “Not tell me yours.”
“Melody.”
“Melody,” he repeated, his grin growing wider. “What a pretty name.” Melody rolled her eyes at the false compliment.
“Whatever.” She didn’t have time for this; she was already late for detention.
“Now if you excuse me.” Melody shifted her books to the other arm, starting to leave. However, Eric stopped her, wrapping a tight restrictive arm around her waist.
“Wait, Melody. Why are you in such a hurry? Can I as least get your phone number?” This did it for Melody.
She stepped on his foot, grinding her heel against his toes for more effect. Shocked, Eric recoiled. Melody hurried to room 3264. As she looked back, she saw Eric gawking at something. Following his gaze, she watched as Eric stared at a girl in a tight top and short skirt, twisting her hips as she walked by. Eric’s gaze lingered on the back of her skirt and back up to her face. She smiled at him and he gave her that stupid grin that she fell for. Melody’s blood boiled with anger and humiliation. She would not be another boy’s play-toy. Never again. Boys, she thought. They’re all the same.
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