Alex
God knows I hate this place.
Our teacher finally decides to show up and tells everyone to sit and shut up. Psychology is definitely not my favorite subject. And perverted Mr. Michaels is not my favorite teacher. He turns and writes something on the board. Everyone continues talking.
Then the new girl comes and sits next to me. I'd noticed her hanging out with Miley and her stupid friends. The poor girl must've been scared off.
"Hi." the girl says. "My name's Mitchie." She holds out her hand. I suppose she wants me to respond.
I roll my eyes, annoyed.
"Alex." I refuse to return the handshake and Mitchie, which is a name I would give a cat, not a person, bashfully takes her hand back. "So how do you like this school? Feel empowered to be a slut yet?"
The girl seems shocked I'm talking to her like this. "Um, no." she says. "I'm just trying to be nice to you. You seem alone. I'm the same way. I always feel alone and since you're also alone, I thought we'd get along just fine. Guess I was wrong."
She stands to get up, but I stop her.
"Wait." I say. "Please, sit." I felt sorry for the poor girl. She seemed to get me. Because alone is how I am all the time. She sits back down and gives me a little smile. As I fumble for something in my purse, a notebook containing my diary falls to the ground. Mitchie reaches down at the same time and her eyes widen in terror.
"Please welcome to our class, Mitchie Torres!" Mr. Michaels says, enthused.
Mitchie locks eyes with me, disturbed, as she saw my greatest secret, one I could never write in words-just in little self-carved scars on my arm.