Where the Roads End. {1D Style}

Teresa Greene's world was beyond the eye could see. See never saw black or
white, instead she say the millions of colors between. It was never up or
down, she would dare go sideways. When the skies turned dark, and rain poured, she wouldn't sulk inside, she would dance in the rain. Nothing could stop Teresa, she was a free bird- She had nobody she cared for, nobody to hold her
back. Until she met someone that she could finally love. {One Direction FanFic}


2. School

  A young girl danced in the middle of the forest, leaping through it, picking flowers and kicking stones. Her long chestnut brown hair flowed behind her, as if a cape. She peered through holes in trees and in the ground with wide golden eyes- eyes that shined as bright as the sun, that was as warm as a kittens, as friendly as a teddy bear, and as brave as all the fire in the world. 

  "Teresa!" A voice called behind her, she would ignore it, keep dancing. The voice became many voices, many people trying to pull her back, but she was in denial.   

  The voices boomed through the forest, but the girl would keep laughing and jumping around.   The voices surrounded her, so loud and strong, as if thunder. She stopped running, looking around. The voices stopped. It was then only one voice calling, "Teresa, listen to me." The voice called. Teresa had full attention (Not usual behavior) as if attracted by the voice. "Teresa-"    



I opened my eyes. My alarm clock read 7:12 AM.    

I sprung out of bed and yawned, opening up my windows to let fresh air in. "Teresa! You better be ready by the time I walk out this door!" My mom yelled from outside my door.   

  I was creative, free, and everything inspired me. My room was splattered with paint and random pictures and clippings of magazines. It was the same for my style, I put on my ripped pants and a tank top with bright neon colored flowers. I ruffled my hair- It was naturally nice and brushed and silky. The night before I had curled it, so wisps of uncurled brown hair fell on my forehead, while the rest was tousled and curled. I put on a jean jacket and a dark red beanie that read 'Obey'.     

  On my way out the door, I grabbed my dark red corduroy Chuck Taylor's I bought with my own cash.    

 Once outside, I smiled at the sunny sky, clear of clouds. "Teresa you better hurry!" Mom called, I sprinted to the car. By the time I got in, I was panting, but the rush of air in my lungs and wind in my hair made me grin. "Teresa, I thought you said you would wear the new dress I bought you!" she scolded.   

 "Mooom. I don't want it- You know that." I sighed. Mom bought it for me because she wanted me to be different. Maybe she wanted me to be 'attractive' (attractive in her mind means have guys falling for you, dressing posh, and acting rich.) School was a few blocks away; I was good in school, I excelled in art, gym, creative writing, and any other creative class. And maybe I didn't have guys falling for me, and best friends, or anything like that, but I have exactly 4 months and 12 days left of it, and then I would be free.    

  "Fine. I'll give it to your sister, but please, I have clients coming tonight, act..." Mom drifted off. I knew she wanted to say 'Normal'. Personally, I didn't care who these clients were, some fancy celebrity, probably. My mom is the CEO of Play Monkey, a company that makes celebrity merchandise. Me and my sister, Jade, are pretty lucky; when my mom gets a client that is potential, they come to our house so she can show it to them. My dad works for Google, in a cubicle in a huge building, typing on a computer all day.        

 As my grandma always said, "You can never cage a free bird." I loved my grandma, she was one of the people I cared for in this world. Actually- The only one.    

 She died 2 years ago.    

My parents said how I acted was how I mourned- Before her death I acted 'normal', I didn't bother telling them that I was always this way. Grandma was like me; she always saw the bright side of things. She smiled a lot. I smiled more. She laughed commonly. I laughed all the time. We looked alike, too. For a 76 year old lady, she was my closest friend. The only person I loved- She was the only one that had a impact on me and my thoughts or actions. My counselor says that when I love somebody deeply, I care for them enough to change.   

 I didn't have to change for my grandma because she accepted me, and I haven't changed since.     


  Teresa! Tris! Are you there?" Mom waved a hand in front of my face. "Oh..Sorry" I scramble to get my backpack. Mom pulls into the parking lot and I hop out. "You know I don't like when you zone out." she scolds. I nod, "Mhm! Kay, bye mom!" I yell as I walk up to the double doors that lead inside.    

  I'm lucky, my locker is on the 1/4 floors in school. It's 8:23, school will start in exactly 7 minutes. That gives me enough time to get to the school's art room. The art teacher, Mr. Malone, was a nice guy, I guess. He was in his 20's (I think he once told me he was 27) and was the nicest person to me in the school. Kind of. He had a short temper and he too thought I was different, but he didn't really mind. When he wasn't like that, he would be awesome.  After 3 years of being his best student that wanted time to get into class in the mornings, he gave me a key to the room.   

  I get my Art Room key and walk down the hallways, starting to jog after it became 8:25. I sprinted, skidding to a hault as I neared the door. I unlocked it quickly and shut the door behind me. The classroom was still, I looked out the window and saw the students scattered around, chatting to one another.    

 I went to back of the room where I had left my art journal. I had last seen it on the back counter, I had left it there while I was packing my book bag before school ended. It wasn't there. I looked at my desk. Not there. Mr. Molone's desk, no. The front counter, no.   

 I started to panic. My art journal had sketches of different things. I would draw common things, like butterflies (interesting ones) but then there were pictures like my most recent; a worn out teddy bear, torn and broken, in a brand new box, sitting on a store shelf next to all the perfect ones.     

 I started looking everywhere, under other desks, in boxes, when suddenly Mr. Malone walked in. "Teresa. Are you looking for something?" He asks as I double check my backpack. "My art journal. I left it here yesterday..." I said, disappointed that I lost it. "I'll keep an eye out for it" he assured me as the morning bell rang.     

  I walked back to my locker, but when I saw it I dropped my bag and sank to my knees. Spray painted on it was the word 'FREAK'. I looked around the hallways as students started to file in. Some snickered, others looked sympathetically, while most ignored me.    

  I was never bullied, nobody really hated me, they (everybody) just ignored me. I picked up my bag as swung my locker open, only to find a note in it;    

'U R A FREAK. NOBODY LIKES YOU, Y DO U THINK WE IGNORE U?!    U THINK UR SO AWESOME, HUH? WELL UR NOT. NOBODY LIKES UGLY FAT PHSYCO GIRLS.   PS:  your journal, with all those weird drawings, is burned.   Have a nice life fugly.'      

  My mouth dropped. This kind of stuff was only in movies, or extremely cheesy books. Extremely cheesy books AND movies.  It couldn't be real, nobody here actually knew my name, knew who I was. Right?    

  I checked my phone, 8 more minutes till 1st period. I slammed the locked door shut, still not crying. I walk to the bathroom and grab a handful of paper towels, rinsing them with water and then walking back to my locker, only to find a girl standing in front of it, her hand over her mouth.    

   I coughed behind her, and she spun around. "Is this...your locker?" she speaks softly, as if to a time bomb before it explodes. "Yes. Now if you excuse me, I'm cleaning it." I bitterly say to her. She takes a few steps back, but watches me intensely as I scrub of the letters. She then took a paper towel from my stack and started helping me. I didn't look at her, I  starred at the paint as it faded away.    

  Once it was all rubbed off, the bell rung. The girl helped me throw away the towels, but before I could thank her, or ever examine who she really was, she dashed off to class. I stared at the clean locker for a second, but then quickly ran to my 1st period Science class.  


  In class I constantly looked around. It seemed as if everybody was looking at me when I turned away from them. 'No! Bad Tris! Your being paranoid!' I think to myself.   

  "Miss Greene? Did you say something?" The teacher, Mrs. Brinksmanship, asks. Did I just say that aloud? The kids snickered, and I heard somebody mumble, "Talking to yourself, freak?"    

  I flip around, the voice came from behind me. Everybody was looking back at there textbooks. I looked down at mine, too. 'The Study of Frogs' the chapter read. I sigh and start to read about how frog bodies and human bodies are very similar. Oh please.

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