1. High School
I passed the colorfully graffitied walls and walked in the open doors of my crappy high school. The disgusting smell of pot lingered in the doorway, and I rolled my eyes. This scent reminded me that I wasn't the only one who came to school early that day.
Well, my summer was officially over, and I missed it, even though the only thing worth remembering about it was my trip to India. The first day of school is always torture, even if you get to see your friends. Blah, blah, blah, welcome to high school, blah blah blah. And our high school, really our town, had a bad reputation, too. It was a little on the ghetto side, and most of the people here are either gang-wannabes or people who are struggling and just wanted to leave as soon as possible. I belong to the latter category. Believe me when I say that most of the people who say they are gang bangers really aren't. They're actually hyped up druggies who hang around in groups, get high in their basements and are too chicken to actually commit any other crimes.
I found my designated locker and sighed. This was going to take a while. I pulled out all of my new binders, folders, etc. and started organizing. I didn't want to be part of all of the chaos when the day actually started, so I came early.
This was going to be a long day. Especially because this wasn't any town. It was Victory Heights, Illinois.