Annabel Green
I opened the door to the school and felt a rush of emotions, the last time I was in this hall was the day my life fell apart, the day I lost my best friend, the day I lost myself. I'd spent the whole summer avoiding everyone, if I saw someone at the movies, I'd calmly just walk passed, or at the store I'd do the same. It wasn't that I was ashamed of what had happened, but of what people thought of me. What they think happened, happened a completely different way. I kept my head down while I walked; making sure no unnecessary eye contact was taken place. I pulled my hood up and put it over my head, hiding my hair. I made my way to my way to my locker, expecting someone there; I was pleasantly surprised, until I looked up and saw what was written on my locker.
"Annabel Greene is a backstabbing boyfriend stealer, She sleeps around, she's a slut—she's a model, she's a whore." It was written in the finest penmanship, Sophie's handwriting. It took a second or two to sink in what was written, then another second for the tears to well up in my eyes. Stupid me for hoping—no praying that the events of last summer would be forgotten along with the tans and bikinis. Someone must have seen me standing there for too long and made the connection. I suddenly heard a burst of laugher roar from the crowd in the hallway; I felt my stomach sink and the tears rolling down my face.