The Social Outcast

Chapter Three

Awkwardness. I've said it a lot, but I was super awkward. I'm sure anyone would if they were with four guys that they just met the night before, looking at a bunch of clothes in Rue 21.

The guys insisted that I needed more clothes, seeing as I had brought enough clothes to fill my backpack.

"Oh c'mon Hallie, this is so cute!" Luke complained. He was holding up a pink dress.

It was cute, but I wouldn't look good on my abnormally skinny figure.

"Yeah Hallie, you have to let us buy you something. You're going to be living with us for a year, so you might as well get used to it. Don't even worry about the cost, you're living on a surgeon's salary," Calum smiled.

I gave in and let them buy me a bunch of clothes that I didn't need, seeing as they wouldn't budge.

Calum payed, and we left. As we were walking around the mall, a bookstore caught my eye. It was like a dream, walls filled with books. There was even a second story!

I looked away, trying to get my mind off of the amazing sight that I had just seen seconds before. If you haven't noticed already, reading was my favorite thing to do.

Every other girl would worry about what outfit to wear or getting a boyfriend, and going to parties.

I wasn't like that. I'm just a girl who wants to escape reality, and does that by reading. My parents couldn't care less about what I did. They wouldn't care if I crawled in a hole and died. The one thing they did worry about, is my happiness.

Me being happy was the end of the world to them. They hated seeing me happy because apparently it was "Sickening," or "disgusting."

Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael must've noticed me staring at the bookstore, because Ashton asked a small, "Do you want to go in there?"

Not wanting them to spend anymore money than they already did, I shook my head.

They ignored my answer. Luke grabbed my hand, dragging me into the bookstore. I don't know about anyone else, but the smell of bookstores were so satisfying to me.

I was completely entranced in looking at the books. I was looking at the sequel to "The Hunger Games." I was never able to find it in the school library, but now it was in my hands. Calum grabbed it from my hands, taking it to the cash register.

What was he doing?

He came back a few minutes later with the book in a bag, and a receipt.

"You bought me it?!"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? C'mon, let's go get something to eat, and then we can leave."

TWO DAYS LATER:

Los Angeles Academy of the Arts.

Here I was, standing in front of the school that I will be stuck going to for the next 181 school days. Not going to lie, I was intimidated by it.

The building was huge, being three stories tall. The interior of the building was even fancier. A chandelier was hanging above the entry way, reflecting on the granite flooring.

There were huge windows, letting the cloudy and rainy day be shown.

I opened the door that was labeled, "Office," before walking in. There was a lady sitting at the front desk, loudly chewing her bubble gum. She looked to be in her thirties, and looked like she would rather watch paint dry.

"Um hi. I'm Hallie Rodgers, and I need my schedule," I nervously fiddled with my hands.

"Okay, here you go," She handed a paper to me.

8:00-8:40 Algebra

8:50-9:30 English

9:35-10:15 Life Science

10:20-11:00 U.S. history

11:05-11:45 Studio Arts

11:50-12:30 Chorus

12:35-1:15 Lunch

1:20-2:00 Jazz dance

2:05-2:45 Acting

2:50-3:30 Photography

I'm guessing that the academics part of school was at the beginning, and then everything after lunch was the arts classes. Why was I signed up for all of these insane arts classes?

The hallways were filled with students wearing designer clothes chatting among each other. A lot of the kids stopping and staring at the new girl. I would stare too if I was them. A girl with a messy bun and worn-out hoodie and jeans.

I didn't look anything like them.

All of these kids probably had snobby rich parents who actually cared about there kids. Apparently the cost of this school costed more than the house that Mom, Dad, and I lived in.

As I got to my first class, which was Algebra, I saw a girl with a smug smile as she eyed me up and down.

"Look what we have here. Another loser," She said to the rest of the class as they laughed. I exhaled and went to an empty seat in the back of the class.

"Oh, ignoring us? You're such a freak, I mean, look at what she's wearing. Look at how freakishly skinny she is. Look at her gross and tangled hair. What is a worthless piece of trash like you doing at the school?" She smirked.

I tried not to listen to anything she said, but it was hard when the words were like knives. I should be used to this. After all, everywhere I went, I was known as "The Social Outcast.