How bad can a good girl get?
With her entire future planned out in excruciating detail, all Adelina Baker wants is to protect her little brother and maybe do things that she never thought she would along the way. And who better to teach her some bad...
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"All she wanted was for someone to look at her and see the person she hid so well"
- Atticus
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I'VE BEEN IN MY CARFOR MINUTES, my head rested against the wheel, the sun hitting the windshield and making the ambient a bit warmer. The cold air from outside is strong today and just the thought of going outside is enough to make me shiver.
It feels like hours but I can't leave it. Not when I know I'm already late for school, the second time in a fucking week.
Detention is certain but that's not what worries me. Tom will beat the hell out of me and the thought of his hands so close to my neck one more time makes tears form in my brown eyes. I fight the urge to cry so bad because I know I'm responsible for this.
These past days I've been so sloppy and I'm afraid all of this will reflect on Sammy. That somehow the monster I live with will affect me by going after my little brother, that psycho.
I take the last breath I have before finally opening my car's door, hiding the weak girl in the back of mind.
My black ankle boots thin heels click against the floor of the empty hallway and despite my attempts not to wear the clothes I got with Kayla, she didn't let me. Before I got a chance to think about what I would wear, she sent me a message threatening me to use the leather jacket we bought.
That girl.
So here am I. My wavy dark brown hair cascades in my back and the light blue ripped jeans are so tight, high waisted, that I almost can't breathe. The sleeveless lace black crop top is too exposed but the damn leather jacket covers it a little bit and makes it look good.
The red lipstick and mascara on my long eyelashes complete the whole bad girl look and even though I'm still adjusting to this style and was too scared to try it on, I feel powerful for once.
The moment I arrive in my classroom, my hands start sweating and I need to control myself not to run off here. This is one of the worst things when it came to arriving late. My school makes the students who are late, enter in the middle of the class and apologize to the teacher, after receiving a good lecture.
I knock on the door and by the little glass window, I see when Mrs. Anderson, the English literature teacher, signals for me to come in, annoyance clear in his face.
I take one last breath before turning the doorknob and finally entering the class, all of my classmates looking at me. My cheeks start to get hotter and I curse in my mind for me being so stupid. How could I arrive late?
