Graffiti love // zm fanfic


1. Chapter one

Chapter one

I run around the neighborhood following the voices that is calling my name. It was a dark street. Only the pale moonlight that is shining down this street.


I hear it again. I look around the place to find the voice. The voice gets louder and louder.

"Melody, melody, melody, melody!"

My eyes sprung open to be greeted by my best friend Amanda leaning over from the side of my bed. I blink a few times to take in my surroundings.

"We're late for school," Amanda say. I roll my eyes at her. Why would she wake me up if we're late.

"ugh, fuck it," I sit up on my bed and stretch, making all kind of moaning and groaning sound earning a slap from Amanda.

I stare tiredly at my best friend arm tattoo. Both of us met at a tattoo shop. She gets way too many tattoo than i do. Only her rose tattoo on her arm could be seen. Other tattoos that she has are hidden under those clothes.

"Quit daydreaming and go shower," Amanda hits my head with the pillow. I jump out of bed and head over to my bathroom to do a quick shower. After i was done with my shower, i brush my teeth and head back to my room.

I live alone in this apartment. My best friend only stay over on weekends. Amanda is sitting on the bed playing with her phone when i enter. "What time is it ?" I ask.

"Nine twenty." We are totally late. School starts at eight and we are one hour and twenty minutes late. I could care less but my late-coming warning letters keep coming more and more. I search over a comfortable outfit for the day.

I decide on wearing my dark blue jeans and white tee. I take my school bag, keys, purse and my phone from the night table.

"Lets go" i mumble. We head out the door and lock it. My apartment is a combine with two other apartment. I live at the first floor, there is two other couples living upstairs.

We hop into my Range Rover and drove off to school.


"We should have skip school," Amanda say. I turn off the engine and step out of the car. Amanda's right. We should have skip school today. Its already nine forty five when we reach the school.

"ugh we're late for Art class," Amanda groan as we step into the school. The hallway is empty and silent. Its been four years now that we have stayed in Academic high. Its our senior year and really, i can't wait to graduate.

We walk up the stairs and head straight into the third classroom. Amanda knocks on the door and open. Mr Adam is on the board. "Just draw a jagged lin- Oh what do we have here, Ms Santiago and Ms Colins." Ms Santiago.... ugh i hate when he calls me Ms Santiago. I look down at my feet.

Its my fathers name obviously. My step mum and dad hated me for who i am. Ever since my biological mum left me with them. They would always say i'm a useless child. I never lived with them since i was fourteen. I was sent to homeless kids for one year. I manage to runaway from that hell hole. I started working when i was fifteen. I work my ass off as a cleaner at the rich family house. Little did i know, i was over thinking that i did not hear Mr Adams talking.

I look up to see everyone glance at us before looking back on their work. Four straight years, i told the class to never get close to me. I hated this class. The boys attitude is like a twelve years old and the girls is like a bitch.

While Mr Adam lectures about getting late to Amanda, i walk up to my seat. I shouldn't have come for school. Amanda was right.

Amanda comes up next to me and settle down. We payed attention to Mr Adam teaching. At the starting of high school, we had to choose a course. Science, Art or a cooking course.

Amanda and i chose Art. What else am i interested in. I sucks at Science and cooking.

I snap out of my thoughts when the whole class groans. Even Amanda. "W-w-whats happen ?" I stutter.

"Didn't you just hear ? Mr Adam won't teach us anymore." Amanda tell. I shout a loud 'what' at her. The whole class turns to me.

"W-wait why aren't you teaching us anymore ?" I ask directly to Mr Adam.

"I'm retiring."

"Well you should have tell us earlier. Why don't you just teach our badge for this year then you retire," I say and the whole class burst into a fits of 'yeah'.

"I can't. I'm sorry class but don't worry, y'all will still have a last day with me in school tomorrow and the new teacher will come in tomorrow."

This is heart breaking news to me. He has been the best teacher ever. Since Freshman actually. In Freshman, Mr Adam taught this class Math. English during Sophomore. History during Junior Year and now Art. In just five months. He has been the best teacher ever.

I remember the time when Amanda and i were at the tattoo shop, he showed up and the three of us was shock. He told the both of us about him getting tattoos and hiding it at school by wearing long sleeves cufflinks and long black pants. Its like three times he help me cheat during a test and there is no other teacher like him.

The school bell rang indicating class is over and its break. "Melody, Amanda meet me." Amanda and i head over to Mr Adam. We wait for the class to be emptied.

When the class is empty, "I can't believe you are gone so soon Mr Adam," Amanda whisper loudly and hug him. Mr Adam is like my father. I treat him like one. I've never felt loved by a father and he makes me feel like one.

"Where would you be going ?" I ask while sitting down at the teachers chair.

"Don't tell anyone but i'll be going back to Australia," Mr Adam mutters. I glance down at my black docmarts. I just feel like bursting into tears right now.

"Don't cry Melody" Mr Adam pats my back. I lean to his side and hug his waist.

"You're like a father to me Mr Adam," I mumble at his body. Tears finally sprung out of my eyes. He stroke my hair gently. "And you're like my daughter, both of you."

"Listen girls, i want both of you to work hard for your finals this year and pass with flying colors. Don't disappoint me alright," Mr Adam say.

"I have to head for my next class, i will see the both of you tomorrow, don't be late tomorrow" Mr Adam say. I quickly hug him before letting him go. I am so not going to be late tomorrow.


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