I am not a girly girl; I'm a tomboy. That obviously means that I am not a fan of One Direction. So could someone, please, explain to me why I am on a game show with One Direction and a bunch of fan girls?


2. Come On, This Is High School, Not Your Mother's Funeral

Being different than every other girl in the world is certainly not a bad thing. I can live a little, not being forced down to the ground under everyone's standards. Instead, I keep my head in the clouds. It's a better view. But, let me tell you this, some girls just don't understand my lifestyle. By some, I mean all. 


"God, Allison, Don't you ever wear something other than sweatpants?" London, the top cat of the 12th grade hissed.


"You'd think after 12 years of class together you'd get used to my nickname." I smiled sarcastically at her.


She flipped her deep brown hair before replying, "At least I don't come to school looking like I just rolled out of bed every day." 


"Instead you eat Soup For Sluts for breakfast before leaving." I wink before slumping to my first class of the last day in high school.


And, hell, I'm not going to college. I'm going to something fun; something that doesn't make me want to kill myself everyday. 


"Hello, Al." Mr. Jays shook my hand with a overly stretched smile.


"Hi." I barely replied before taking my seat in the back.


"What's up, Al?" Deacon slid onto my desk.


"Get your fat ass off my desk, boy." I laugh.


"Is it really that bad?" he jokes, turning to check out his bum.


"Just the usual. Al rolling her eyes and Deacon checking out his ass." Blake rolls his eyes, but acts like when I do it it's a crime. 


"Keep rolling your eyes, maybe you'll find a brain back there." I suggest with a hint of a smile.


No, I don't have any girl friends. There are only guys who are complete idiots. That makes it all the more fun though.


"Ouch." Blake places his hand over his heart in dismay. 


"Get in your seats, Deacon and Blake. Class has started." Mr. Jays glared at the two boys. 


Blake once again rolls his emerald eyes and takes a seat after flicking his mop of brown hair at one of the girls. Deacon slumps to the front of the class to take his seat, where he got moved to after sitting next to me. We weren't exactly the quiet, respectful bunch if I may say so myself. 


"This is not going to be an off day just because this is the last day of school. You ignorant teenagers have a lot more math to learn if you actually want to be successful in life.." Mr. Jay droned on, obviously sick of this generation. 


To pass the time, I aimed a great number of relentless spitballs at Deacon's flock of blond hair, just to have his blue eyes burn holes in my soul. 






 You know that feeling after another school year is done and you won't see those bitches you hate for 3 months? It's 50 times better when you're graduating because you don't have to see those people for years at a time. 


I dumped my multiple fifty-pound books on the floor outside of my locker, obviously not giving a fuck what this school has to say about it. Dang, I'm fabulous. People around me swarmed in groups to reconnect while others had tears brimming their eyes. 


Come on, this is high school, not your mother's funeral


Once I slung my Nike bag over my right shoulder and slammed my graffiti covered locker shut, I raced down the hall to Blake's locker. As I focused on dodging people, I got plenty of dirty looks from people I thought had moved.


"Hey, slow down, race star." Blake laughs, leaning against him locker with a smug look on his face.


"Whatever. Where the hell is Deacon?" I rest against the locker next to Blake and examine each and every face that'll I'll forget the second I exit the double doors in the front of school. 


"Probably eating faces with Kennedy." Blake nudged me, nodding his head to the two people making out at the end of the hall.


"I wish I had hobbies." I joke, following after Blake to tear Deacon away from Kennedy. 


"Hey, guys." Blake coughs loudly, and may I add awkwardly. 


"Oh, hey Blake! Al." Kennedy quickly looked me up and down with disgust clearly written in her eyes.


"Well, I'll catch you later, Kennedy." Deacon waves a quick goodbye and pulls us down the hall eagerly. "I'm never talking to her again."


"Why's that?" Blake lingered in front of us a bit. 


"She was being a jerk to Al." Deacon sneered.


"I don't need you to look over me like I'm your baby sister." I growled, focusing on not tripping over my own feet because of our fast pace. 


Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.


"Can't you ever accept that we don't want you hurt?" Deacon suddenly stops walking as we hit the cracked sidewalks outside. 


Blake scoffs, "Speak for yourself." Deacon slaps him in the side. "I'm just kidding, I want you safe, Al."


"Can't you accept that I don't need your help?" I demand, feeling anger boil inside me.


"Come on, Al. Someday you're going to want someone to be there for you when you need them to. You're going to want someone to love you." Blake looks at me with sincerity.


"When I'm dead, right." I arch my eyebrows, crossing my arms. 


"Don't you get it? You are going to need help one day and then no one will be there for you because you constantly push them away." Deacon tries to reason with me.


"I understand, guys. I'm just not like that. Just, please, don't try to change me." I plead for once in my life, hoping to end this conversation. 


Little did I know that this was going to be one of the main topics in my near future.








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