So I'm not considered the "cool" or "hot" girl. No, I am the loser who gets things thrown at them. I wear those ripped skinny jeans and punk/rock band shirts and tons of bracelets. I have that red/brown hair and blue eyes; not to mention I'm strangely pale. I had really gotten into music, art, and reading. I don't have really any friends. I'm quiet. I'm That teenager.
It had gotten difficult today. School was blur of the normal spitballs, book throwing, snarky remarks, and hiding in the bathroom stalls listening to music. I had arrived to my foster home where my foster dad, Shane was in the large kitchen washing dishes. "Hey Shane." I mumbled a hello as I started walking to my bedroom. "Not so fast, Carter, get back here." I was hoping he'd not call me. I spin on my heel and walk over to the barstool and sit obediently. He tipped my chin up to see the little amount of blood dry on my nose. "Okay, what was it this time?" He acted
As if he was preparing for another one of my excuses. "It got hot. You know I have nasal problems and when it gets too dry if hot I-" "I want the truth, Car." Shane interrupted me. I rolled my eyes, "I'm serious, Shane." He gave a concerned look and sighed. "Okay, go get ready for dinner, tell your brother that dinners almost ready." He answered. I dropped my skate board and started down the hall, "what'd I say about skating in the house?" He called after me. I groaned and picked up the board and walked up the stairs. "Hey, loser!" Yelled my older brother, Dylan. "Shane said get ready for dinner." I answered him. "What? No hug?" He chuckled. I rolled my eyes playfully and hugged him. Finally in my room, I looked around it. The walls plastered wit My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, The Killers, and Panic! At The Disco posters. I walked over to the window and stared down at the house across from mine. That's when I saw him; Niall Horan, the most popular guy in Mullingar/Multylfarnham lines. He was in his front lawn kicking around a football. I could've sworn he looked up at me and winked. I quickly turned away from the window and closed the curtains. "Carter! Dinner!" Called Shane. I groaned and walked straight back downstairs. I was not the eating type .