You grew up in the projects, the ghetto as some people call it. Kill or be killed. When you got the invitation, you didn't want to go to any uppity school with snotty teens, but, you also wanted to get away. Get away from the gunshots, the gang violence. You were always the silent type, never really speaking to anyone but your dad and your brother. You had what was described as selective mutism. That was another reason you didn't want to go. Singing in front of random strangers?
It almost seemed like a blur when you got off the plane, leaving your family behind in Atlanta. You glanced down at the ground, making your way to the dorms of the high school you were going to. You held your key tightly in your hand as if you were afraid that someone will take it from you. The hallways were decorated nicely, showing that these people really do have money. You walked up to your dorm room, room 727, and opened the door. One side of the room was dark, almost emo looking and the other looked brand new.
The first thing you did when you got in the room was tucked your gun under the second mattress, like you do at home. You didn't have school until Monday so, you stripped out of your clothes and changed into what you may describe as a casual outfit,
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
You smacked your head, dumbass. You thought to yourself before taking the gun from up under the mattress and putting it in your waistband. It was something you had to do back where you're from, it was pure instinct. You walked out of your dorm, walking slower than ever. You didn't know where to go, or what to do. This place was foreign, far different and way more expensive than the stuff in Atlanta.
Lucky for you, you were a hustler so you saved a lot.
Suddenly, you pass up a group of teenagers. You didn't think much of it until they called you over, "Hey, you!" A black dude with dreads shouts. You looked up with a tilted head and pointed at yourself. The dude grins and nods, "Yeah, you!" He laughs out. You hesitantly walked over to the group, keeping your guard up remembering what happened last time a group of teens tried to be friendly with you. The dude smiles, "What's up, my name's Andre Harris. This is my girl Tori Vega and Cat Valentine." He introduces. Tori waves, "Hi." She greets with a wide smile.
Cat just stares at you, her face turning a bright shade of red. You waved with a slight smirk. Andre hums, "Not much of a talker, huh?" He asks lowly. Just then a short brunette girl and a tall dark haired boy walks up to them, "You might as well just drop out now, then. There isn't any room for people who can't talk." She sneers. You scoffed and looked her up and down. Andre snickers, "I think we gonna get along, girl. Talker or not." He laughs out, "By the way, that's Jade and Beck, they mean no harm." Andre adds. You still kept an eye on Jade.
You didn't trust her one bit.
"H-Hi, my name is Cat! Y-You're so pretty, you're hair is so curly! Your eyes are so- wow!" Cat nervously rants. Your eyes softened at the sight of the flustered girl before you put on a big smile, shocking the group. Not only did you smile for the first time since they met you a few minutes ago, you had diamond grills,
