Me: Hey guys, new story! YAY! Haha, anywho... I hope you enjoy it... :)
Jack: Jack here, just wanted to say she doesn't own Kickin'...
Me: DON'T REMIND ME, BREWER!
Jack: *Gulp* -_-''
ENJOY!
"The life of depression is an untruthful one for sure."
"Class, please join me in welcoming our new student, Juliet Morris." I felt like a total outsider. I'm standing here with long sleeves covering the ways I deal with my sorrow while there were girls in front of me displaying all of their skins. My black dyed hair was always dangling in curls over my shoulders. I had arctic blue eyes that could usually look straight through people. But there was one boy in front of me whose iron will wouldn't let me through. Jack Brewer.
"It's Julia, right?" I heard his voice next to me. I didn't look at him. "Juliet." "I'm Jack Brewer. It's nice to meet you," he said politely. "Look Jack, you're sweet and all, but I don't get why you talk to me. Isn't it against the rules to talk to a misfit if you're the most popular guy in school?" He smirked. "I'm not that popular." As if they were cued, a group of guys passed Jack and greeted him with handshakes. "I rest my case," I sighed and headed for the cafeteria. He followed me. "Hey, wait." I stopped and looked at him. "What now?" "Don't you want to have lunch with us?" "If I say yes, would you stop bothering me?" Jack smiled. "Yes." "Then fine." We walked into the cafeteria. He handed me a plastic food tray. "Thanks." We held out the trays and received good looking food. So this is what lunch looks like, I thought. I walked after Jack to his table. "Hey, you're that girl that's with me in Art class! You're Juliet, right?" Kim said which I assumed was a 'welcome to our table' gesture. "Yeah, that's me." "Wow, you're pretty," Eddie said. "Thanks, Eddie," I said, a little creeped out. "She knows my name," he whispered to Milton who rolled his eyes and smiled at me. "Hey there, Science partner," he greeted. "Hey Milton." "So, you already know everyone," Jack said and smiled. "Okay, I said I'll have lunch with you, not be your friend or anything," I said abruptly. "Of course!" Jack exclaimed. "No friendship." For some strange reason I knew Jack wasn't going to stop until I admitted they were my friends. Truth be told, I don't want them to be. They're respectable people and I'm… me. I don't want them to get drawn into my problems. But I got the feeling they are going to force me to be their comrade. It would be great, but also terrible. I'm a stirrer, not a friend. Pfft. Like they would let that get in the way. I looked at the faces around the table. They were happy. Something I wasn't in a long time. Maybe… Maybe they would be the ones to change that.
"See you tomorrow, Juliet!" I heard them yell behind me and put my hand up in the air in a lazy goodbye. I was late. I can't ever be late. It's against the rules. I hesitantly turned the doorknob of my home and entered. "Juliet?" I was hoping he'd be passed out on the floor by now. "Hi dad." "Don't you 'hi dad' me," he said angrily, slurring his words a little. He had been drinking again. I could smell it where I stood. "You're late!" he yelled and appeared before me. God, he looked even worse than this morning. "I'm sorry dad. My new school is a little farther away than my old one." "Excuses, excuses! Where's my booze?" "I'm supposed to get it tomorrow, remember?" "Don't you use that tone with me missy!" "I wasn't-!" I got hit in the face and fell on my back. I held my eye and felt the cut on my eyebrow. I quickly stood up and tried to make a run for my room. Halfway upstairs, he grabbed my ankle and I fell onto the stairs, slamming my breath away. I kicked free, made the rest of the trip and slammed my room's door. The lock clicked and I backed away from the door. "Open this door!" He hammered on it a few times and yelled again. I walked into the bathroom and slid down in the corner. I couldn't bite back the tears any longer. The blood was seeping into my eye and it mixed with the tears which made my vision even blurrier. I opened the drawer and looked for my only comfort. Then I ran a bath and shed my heavy clothing. The warm water welcomed my skin. I looked at the tiny blade in my hand. Slowly, I drew the blade across the area above my wrist. The blood flowed into the bathtub. Soon, the word WHY stood on my arm in bloody, jagged lines. I rested in the bath for about an hour. Then I washed off all the blood on my skin and on the bathtub. I got out and dried myself off. The cuts hurt. A lot. I pulled on some pyjamas and bandaged my arm. Before I slept, I thought up excuses to tell the group at school about why my arm is bandaged. The life of depression is an untruthful one for sure.