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Breland Monday,April15,1993
"Moveslut!" Greta Bowie, just another one of the biggest dicks in this town.
Derry fucking Maine. Population, somewhere around 30,000 people; small enough to not attract outside attention but big enough so runaway kids don't reduce the population. What we're famous in, pretending not to see anything when a girl gets purposely pushed into a locker...
My hand moves up to my arm, pain surging through it. I glare at Greta, while she walks away. This is the fifth fucking time I've been pushed into a god damn locker today.
Pushing myself off, a teacher stands ten feet in front of me, most likely seeing the whole fucking show but not doing anything. My glare doesn't drop and I stare directly into their eyes, "Thanks for the fucking help." My words drip with hatred.
I strut forward, purposely bumping my shoulder hard into theirs while walking by.
The teachers don't care if you get bullied. The adults don't care if you're getting hurt. They only care about looking like the perfect town, with its perfect people and perfect families.
Perfect families, god what bull.
Walking out of the front doors of this hell that's called 'school' I feel the cold dead breeze fly over me. I feel a slither of hope from being out of there but it quickly goes away.
A sigh leaves my mouth, and my shoulders feel just a little bit heavier every day.
It's never sunny in Derry, the clouds always block the sun giving it that sad, gloomy look, but I kinda love it. It perfectly fits my mood every day, I guess I'm just another stereotypical emo girl. Just call me, Wednesday Addams.
A body comes to my left side, throwing their arm around me, "Hey girl." They give my arm a light squeeze but it causes a part of it to burst in pain, "Ow, shit. Careful Bev. I've been shoved into five fucking lockers today, and two different teachers saw." I throw my hands up to exaggerate my point.
She rubs my arm softly chuckling, "Hey, don't mind them. They're just jealous of how cute you are." Her pale freckled hand pinches my cheek lightly.
I try to suppress the smile on my face, swatting her hand away lightly, "Shut up, I'm not cute. I'm a scary girl who can beat up anyone at any time." I glare playfully at her.
Beverly Marsh. She is everything I've ever wanted to be, she's everything everyone wants to be. Everyone either loves, or hates her. She has probably slept with half the guys in the school, but the people that hate her don't call her a slut because of that. No, they call her a slut because they think she's sleeping with her dad. I don't believe that; I mean, I believe that shes slept with half the guys in the school, because she hasn't denied it and also brags about it but, with her dad. No.
