Yeah, I didn’t wake up early.

When I finally rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a thud, my alarm rang and I realized it had been wailing for over fifteen minutes. I still had enough time to take a rushed shower and brush my teeth, wear a band t-shirt and black ripped skinny jeans, and pack my textbooks into my backpack and jump out the window.

Now, I could’ve used the door, but 1. I didn’t want to face grandma or my father, 2. I wasn’t planning on having breakfast, so there was no point in going downstairs and 3. The window was honestly just faster, easier, and more efficient.

I ran through my grandmother’s mini garden, because it was a shortcut, and avoided trampling on the dandelions and tulips. The lilies and other flowers weren’t so fortunate.

Once I got to the street, it was full speed ahead, my legs pumping and me panting with the effort. I regretted not throwing my hair in a ponytail or having a rubber band on my wrist to tie it up with because now, wisps of black dyed hair whipped in front of me, some of it entering my eyes, and some trying to explore my mouth.

A car honk sounded behind me and I slowed to a halt, until the car caught up to me and I swung open the door, throwing my backpack in and hopping after it, yelling “Go, go, go, go!”

Jason stepped on the gas pedal, and I lurched forward. His arm reached out, firmly yanking back my shoulders and saving me from hitting my nose on the polished dashboard.

I stared at him with wild eyes, trying to catch my breathing, and he stared back, while still accelerating towards North-Winds High. My small smile grew into a grin and his grin grew into a slow laugh until we were both laughing like maniacs for no obvious reason.

“I feel like a getaway driver.” Jason said, in-between laughter and trying to keep both his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road.

I chuckled and shoved my hands through my hair, trying to tame the wild curls and catch my breath. My chest felt constricted and I leaned back into the cozy seat, stealing a sideways glance at Jason.

At the same time, he glanced at me, his dimple dipping into his freckled cheek.

All of a sudden, I had the greatest urge to reach my hands out and ruffle and push back his hair because it looked like a cloud and was covering part of his eyes. Instead, I tore my eyes away.

“I can’t afford to be late to school on the second day after being late on the first day.” I said with a sigh, resting my forehead on the cool window and looking out at the streets that were blurring, as Jason sped past them.

We made light conversation until we got to North-Winds High, and he parked in his assigned spot. I had intentions of running out and leaving him behind like I did yesterday, but Jason counterbalanced my ideas by getting out as fast as I had done and running up to me until we were walking side by side at the same pace.

We entered the double doors.

“Is it just me, or is everyone staring at us?” Jason whispered.

It wasn’t just him.

See, I know I said high school wasn’t as cliché as the movies make it seem, but the moment that was happening to me right now… Well, I’ve seen it a thousand times on literally every teen fiction show or movie that includes a hallway with lockers.

All activity seemed to pause when we stepped in together with Jason. At first, I thought maybe he was part of the popular group and the students were just surprised to see him enter with a ‘new’ girl. I mean, that usually happens right? But no, Jason wasn’t the object of these teenagers’ attention. I was.

The pause ended soon enough and the whispers rose. Some pointed at me, some glared at me spitefully as if I had angered the gods they worshiped, others looked at me with pure pity. It was an exact, but more ampullated version of what I had witnessed in Chemistry class. The only difference was, I didn’t feel or see any looks that read ‘Lucky her’.

Which got me to wondering… just what was happening that made me the center of attention at North-Winds High this beautiful Tuesday morning? Was it a rumor?

Then I saw it.

You know that feeling of horror and dread that grows at the pit of your stomach when you know something is wrong, but you don’t know what, or why? Yeah, that. I felt that.

I tried to keep a bored look just to seem unbothered by the attention and gazes and whispers, but internally, I was close to combusting and breaking down with worry and anxiety and general discomfort. I had never been the center of attention. In literally anything. I avoided anything and everything that would even vaguely put me near the spotlight because I had things to hide.

So much things to hide.

My locker was hanging open on its hinges. Hundreds of black and white printouts of my passport on white printing paper, the same one that was on my school file spilled out of the locker. Half of them were resting peacefully on the floor.

Jason was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him, or figure out his words because there was a certain ringing in my ears that faded and blurred the real world away.

My hands shook slightly as I plucked out one paper from the locker.

‘on death row’

Those were the words that sat in red ink, written across my neck on the picture.

So, this was it. I thought. This was why everyone stared and gossiped about me. Who could’ve done this?

I could only think of the douchebag I poured coffee on. It had to be him.

For some reason, or mostly because everyone was waiting for my reaction to the prank, and looking weak was not an option, I crumpled the paper into a ball and laughed out loud.

I made sure my laugh was ugly, evil, and as cold as I could manage. If anyone that was targeting me wanted to see a negative reaction, they weren’t getting it because I was now laughing like an utter maniac and a crazy fucking bitch.

Jason squeezed my shoulder and asked full of concern “Are you okay?”

I wasn’t okay. I felt fucking pissed.

Here were these high school idiots, hungry for something to gossip on, and standing around like fucking mannequins in a cliché high school storybook. Here I was, trying to stay in the shadows of high school and keep my head down until graduation, but still being the object of a prank organized by a childish fucking bastard.

‘on death row’?

I wanted to head straight to the principal’s office. There had to be a punishment for vandalization and defamation, right? But then again it seemed like an action a weak person, too scared to stand up to themselves would take.

Someone snickered a few feet away from me, and I glared towards that direction.

Right there, in the center of the jocks and cheerleaders and school population, the douchebag that blocked my locker the previous day stared back at me, a smug expression on his features as he leaned back on a locker, his hand slung around the neck of an obnoxious-looking cheerleader.

The paper crumpled tighter in my hands and I clenched my jaw, walking with a sneer towards his direction.

Someone pulled me back.

“You don’t wanna go there, now. This is not how you handle it.”

I glared at Tamie, whose hand was holding on to my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh, stopping me from moving further. I wanted to find a distraction so I wouldn’t make a scene in-front of probably the whole school, so I focused on Tamie’s appearance.

Her blue hair was braided down into two sections, with a dozen of glittery hair pins secured into place. There was a thin coat of perspiration on her hairline, directly where the hair blended into her flawless glasslike skin. She wore bright pink colored contact lenses, and her eyes watched me carefully, like she was thinking of what she’d do if I yanked off her hand and ran straight towards douchebag to strangle him or slam him against the locker behind him.

Okay, I wouldn’t be able to slam him into a locker, but sure as hell, I was planning to try if Tamie wasn’t holding on to me.

“Yeah, the bell is gonna ring soon anyways… We can report to the school authority afterwards.” Jason reasoned.

He was standing next to me, both his hands in his pockets as he glanced around at the students uneasily.

As if to certify his words, the bell rang, and the students began to clear out, hurrying to their classes yet avoiding the circle of jocks surrounding douchebag and the circle of me, Tamie, Jason, and my locker, like they were both bad omens.

I was able to breathe easier now, and when Tamie let go of my arm, I slammed the locker shut, but it swung back with a loud creak. My sneakers squeaked as I jogged to class in the now clearing hallway, leaving behind Tamie and Jason.

Already, I was plotting my revenge. North-Winds High needed to know exactly who was walking through their hallways. North-Winds High needed to know exactly what a vengeful soul I was. North-Winds High needed to be taught a lesson, that high school clichés were dead. North-Winds High needed to learn. Douchebag needed to learn.

And I was ready to be the teacher that delivers the lesson.