Tattoo || m.c.

03

She walked into school with her head down and her breathing quiet. She didn't want to be noticed at all. She hated the center of attention; now that she has come back to school after a month of absences, she doesn't know what will happen.

Walking along the hallway, people whispered to one another; stares were suffocating her in shyness and embarrassment. She hated this.

She walked along to her locker, passing a group of the classic, stereotypical jocks. They had the brains the sizes of peas and she was surprised that none of them had been held back a grade, or three.

"How was the mental hospital? Did it fix your freakiness," one yelled as she opened her locker. She rolled her eyes.

She knew who the voice was the insist the imbecile started speaking. Jake Gilligan. He was the dick of all dicks. No brain at all and the hidden devil. He hasn't gotten expelled because the vice principal is his uncle. Mr. T must feel so proud.

"Go away you ass," A voice yelled across the hall. It was deep, and raw. Somebody just woke up.

Jake almost had a face of terror before covering it up by rolling his eyes. He told his crew to move out to the courtyard.

Footsteps thumped towards her. Her smile faltering and the thought of having to speak. She has to remind herself that she was confident and smart. That all blew out one ear as the footsteps stopped right beside her locker.

"I'm Michael," the voice said, "Don't worry about that dick. He's just a no good jock. Are you new?"

She looks up to him. His red hair standing out the most but then came the tattoos sneaking out of his shirt and the eyebrow, plus lip, piercings reflecting off the lighting. It was the a punk.

"Jake has always been a self-centered bitch," She scoffed silently as he raised an eyebrow, "And I'm not new but thanks for your chivalry, punk."

She slammed my locker shut and started walking to first period.

"I never got your name, sweetheart," his voice etched with sarcasm as he yelled across the hall.

The five minute bell rang, signaling for her to get to class. The girl decided to not answer Michael and walked further down the opposite direction of the hall.

Sitting down in math, whispers and stares were still surrounding her. She hadn't gotten use to this yet and was a little freaked out. Not to mention, her mind was on the colorful punk. He was charming but she knew a dickhead when she saw one. His hair was definitely the part that stood out. It looked like he had dyed it more than once. Who knew how long until he went bald.