Love and Hate

Just another day in school with my two friends. I only have two, but I have an enemy. I used to have many friends, but that was before I broke up with him, as he says. But the truth is he broke up with me. I don't even like to say his name, but I will this once. Justin. Justin Bieber.

A/N: I have nothing against Justin Bieber or Selena Gomez. I was going to write a story like this anyway. I don't mean to make anyone hate me. Sorry.
Her= Selena Gomez
Him= Justin Bieber

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3. Chapter 3

The teacher doesn't even notice when I walk in, she just keeps boring us to death about who knows what. I see Him talking to his friends, point at me, then start in a fit of quiet laughter. Why can't he just disappear, or better yet, me. 

Hours passed and it's now time to go to fourth period. Art. Unfortunately, She was in it. However, Bret was there to help me survive. I sat down at my table and acted like nobody existed. Suddenly, I feel pain in my head. I cover it with my hand and turned my head slightly. I saw She was throwing paper at my head. Her lips curved into a smile and opened to announce a laugh. While in the meanwhile, my lips curved down into a frown and tears frolicked down my cheek. She walks over to me and shoves my shoulder. 

"Hey loser! How's it been living a life as a little weakling like you?"
"Go away." I groan.

"How about I don't go away, but you get out of my seat." She smiles.

"This isn't your seat." I insisted.

"Well now it is, SO GET OFF!" she yelled and pushed me off the chair. I go hurling forward, scraping the skin and flesh off of my knee. I see as blood soaks up my jeans. I attempt to stand up and find another seat next to Bret.

"Help me!" I cried to him.

"OH MY GOSH! WHAT HAPPEND?" He yelled appalled. 

"It was Her. She pushed me out of my seat." I moan.

"Do you want me to tell the teacher?" Bret asked me.

"No!" I almost yelled. "It will just make things worse if an adult gets involved."

"Star, you can't just cant keep letting them push you around like this. You have to do something or tell an adult, at least."

"No. They will get over it soon, I hope." I mumble the end. As class starts, we are told to take this period to make something that shows our emotions and how we feel in the inside. I am really good with pencils and charcoal, so I grabed those materals out of my backpack and started to draw. I draw a picture of what I look like on the outside, and where my shadow was, I drew what I feel like on the inside. I had bruises and cut on my arms and legs, and I was all faded. I was sad and depressed and I had scars an my heart. I finished right when the period ended, and the teacher asked Her to collect the pieces.

"What did you make, Star?" She asked me.

"Why do you care? You'll just ruin it." I mumble.

"No honey, I won't. You will."

I was shading in my hair in my shadow, so she bumped my arm and the pencil went across the whole picture.

"Why did you do that?!" I asked her.

"Because, your picture was better then mine. Now mine is better. Your welcome." She gave me a smile, picked up my paper, and walked away.

"That girl has issues." Bret said. I just sat there, maybe I should, no, I will just hope that Angie is right.

 

 

 

 

 

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