Dark Side

Chapter 8

*beep beep beep*

"ugh, I don't want to get up," I say, smacking my alarm and rubbing my eyes.

      I slowly get up and pick my clothes up off the dresser. Grabbing a towel, I go into the bathroom to take a shower. I test the water with my foot and, when it feels warm, I step in. As I'm running the shampoo through my hair, I begin to think about school, and how people are gonna react to me coming back. Well, it's only the first week. There's gotta be other people who just moved here even, and it's not like I'm a new kid. How bad could it possibly be? I rinse the shampoo out of my hair and lather my body with soap real quick before I do my final rinse down and step out of the shower. With an hour left til I have to leave, I quickly dry my body and begin to blow dry my hair.

"This is so fogged up," I mutter to myself, rubbing the mirror with my arm.

     Once my hair is dry, I begin to flat iron it, making sure it was sleek and shiny. With my hair all done, all is left is my make up. I put on some mascara and black eyeliner with some grayish-black eye shadow.

"Well, this is as good as its gonna get I suppose," I say, and I had out the bathroom door with my backpack in hand.

     Then, I grab my phone and our my earbuds in; music was my one comfort.

"Here goes nothing," I sigh, and I head out the door to school. With the autumn breeze whipping through my hair, I walk with my head down across the sidewalk.

     Good Charlotte was blasting trough my ears, a good distraction from my uneasy stomach, quite upset from my nervousness. I don't know why I was so nervous, I just was. I then stop at the crosswalk, waiting for my turn to go. The light turns green and I quickly cross the road. With the school in sight, I begin to feel my heart pound faster.

"Calm down, Demi. You're gonna be fine. It's not like someone's gonna kill you or something," I mutter to myself, feeling like I was about to be sick.

     I quickly pull it together and just concentrate on the lyrics of the song: "Hold on if you feel like letting go. Hold on it gets better than you know." And then, I was there.

"Deep breaths," I think, and I open the door to the school.

     When I first walk into school, nothing bad happens. Everyone went on with their morning and I began to walk to class. But once I turned the corner, people started to realize who I was. I saw girls turn and begin to whisper, some laughed, and others stared. I began to walk faster, my head facing down. I began to feel incredibly uncomfortable until I felt a hand on my back.

"Hey," Joe says, walking next to me, reaching for my hand to hold.

"Oh, hey," I say, wiping my eyes in case any tears slipped out.

"Don't worry about them, everyone is just shocked is all. Your dad was an important man to this town and everyone is afraid his murderer may strike again. You aren't the reason for the whispers, don't worry," he says, trying to be a comfort.

     We continue to walk down the halls until we reach my class.

"I'll see you next block. I gotta go to gym," he says, hugging me goodbye before he leaves.

     As I watch him jog down the hall, I feel my sense of security leave.

"God, please help me," I pray, and then I turn the nob to the door.

"Demi! Hi, I'm Mrs. Mussleman. Please, take a seat," my teacher says to me.

     She looked a little over middle aged, with a short, 60s haircut for her black hair with black dress pants and a purple shirt. Her outfit was nicely accessorized with silver jewelry, making her look very put together. I then turn to look for a seat when I realize everyone has been staring at me. I immediately begin to feel overwhelmed and head straight for the back of the classroom; no one can stare there.