nights; h.s.

1

one

"Can you please promise me you'll have a good day today," My mom pleaded with me. I just forced a weak smile, there was nothing I could do. It was coming up to the second month of school and I had made no friends.

I just shut the passenger door, plugging my other headphone into my ear and continuing to walk into the intimidating building. England was... England.

There was not a single black soul among the crowd of kids I've seen in the last few weeks. The most I've seen was one Asian girl, and it was killing me. I felt like everyone was looking at me, and if they weren't, they were talking about me.

Old me would've liked this type of attention back in Detroit, but shit. All of it is just making me self conscious. I felt like I should just have ghetto tattooed across my forehead. I never thought I had an accent, everyone in my family just talked the way I did— it was perfectly normal. Until I heard a table of kids mocking me. Now with every word that rolls of my tongue I just shrink further and further into myself.

I wish I didn't care so much. To be honest, all I wanted was my dad back.

Today i wore my long black box braids down, they touched the hem of my high-waisted jeans, that I wore on top of a white bodysuit. The ends were rolled up, and I was wearing my worn down white converse. All my friends back home signed. Every writable inch of material was full.

Sighing deeply, I approached the door of my first class. I walked kind of fast just eager to sit and get out of sight. I sat in my usual spot, near the back right next to the window. The teacher hadn't arrived yet so I remover my notebook and textbook from my back and began doodling. My earphones, still in.

In the corner of my eye I saw someone sit down beside me. It was a tall young boy. White, obviously. He had short curly brown hair that he seemed to not know what to do with, judging by the cross of styles he wore it in. I kind of wanted to glance at him, but I was to afraid so I kept my head down.

He leaned up on his elbows, chewing is gum loudly and anxiously looking around the classroom. It was only then I noticed he had no books. I tried to stop gazing at him and focused on the eye evolving on my page, but then the teacher walked in.

I heard the burble of conversation die down and that was when I removed my head phones.

"Good morning, class!" Mr. Hayden cheered. "Today we have a new student joining us. Exchange student actually, from North Carolina. Come on up, mate!" He smiled gesturing 'him' to the front of the class. The boy sitting next to me stood and began walking carefully. Mr. Hayden wrapped his arm around the boys shoulder.

I examined him carefully now, as everyone was also doing it. He was tall, broad shoulders. Had a bit of a stash growing in. I noticed little splatters of paint on his jeans. That were very tight I might add.

"Tell us your name, and 2 facts about yourself." He smiled and the boy rubbed his eyebrow nervously.

"Uhh.." he began to stammer. "I'm Harry. I just moved here from North Carolina.. and.. I, uh. I like to... draw.. I guess."

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woo hello

i hatehatehate first chapters their so awkward but i guess here

i want the plot to be really vague in the beginning so if it makes no sense be patient it will unfold

:))