Falling Hard

Chapter 1: Falling

Houston, Texas
September 2, 2013
Tuesday
Windell High School
Rihanna Pov

As I walk up to the entrance, I hear the bell rang right when I touch the door handle. I let out a weary breath before I tug the slightly, but heavy door. Walking in. Did they forget that girls go here too? Not just boys. Everybody not that strong. I stood there looking around, lost.

I hear the entrance door open and look back. The brown skin girl opened it with ease. I look down at my arms. Or maybe I'm just weak. I squinted my eyes as she passes by me, chatting it up with her friends.

Not everybody your friends, I thought. She turn her head back to me making eye contact with me. Peering into my eyes. Either she heard my mind speak or I was staring mighty hard. I cut my eyes another direction as she goes on about her business. Probably gushing about some boy who looks at her a certain way and now she thinks he likes her. I shook my head at the thought.

I realized that most of the students are still in the hallway.

"Huh." I made a face. Maybe that was the warning bell, I thought.

"Hey!" Someone called out. I look out the corner of my eye. "Hey! You!" I turn my head seeing a woman then I turned my whole body around, giving her my undivided attention.

"What are doing in the attendance office, honey?" The lady ask putting a hand on her hip, waiting for my response.

"I–uhh..." I shudder, lightly shaking my head trying to come up with something. The bell rings again. Ahhh. How great? I'm late. She gave a small smile before walking up to me.

"You must be new." She started. "I'm Meagan, Meagan Good. But of course to students, it Mrs. Ealy or Ms. Good, if you like." She introduced herself, giving a warm smile. I naturally smiled back too. "Come on. Why don't I write you a pass to class." She turned on her heels before walking into an office.

"Umm...I don't know my classes." I said to myself.

•¥•

I did an audible sigh as the teacher pass around the work sheet, wanting us to write about ourselves and what we like to do. I mean, we are in high school for crying out loud. It not like people are going to actually care about what you do or what you like. If anything they're just going to judge you for being you.

I sat up when a piece of paper landed on my desk then the floor. I pick it up, rolling my eyes. How nice of you. I twist my lips to the side, tapping the end of my pencil on the desk, thinking of something to write. I wanted people to get to know me but then I don't. I felt like if I did write something about my self. I would still feel like an outcast.

Like....I'm missing something. Something more than life itself.

"Alright, times up everybody." The teacher voice startled me. I look up at the clock. Damn. Five minutes have pass already? I would procrastinate in other classes but I have to pass. Which means. I have to pay attention. "Each of you will stand up–" She got interrupted with some students groaning. I scoff a laugh. I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't want to do this.

"AnyTways." She pronounced in a ratchet manner, rolling her eyes. "Like I was saying. You will be standing up and presenting yourself on what you like to do." She warned scanning her chocolate brown eyes over the class. "You will start with names. Everybody understand?" No response. "Do. You. Und–"

"Yes, Ms. Rowland." Half of the class say tiredly while the other just simply responded with a 'yes' and some with just a head nod.

"Right....Miss Fenty?" She ask calling me out. I watch the students head turn around. Some even turned their whole body around.