Soccersmith13

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Untitled D: 

Chapter 1

                                                                                                                           Wednesday, February 1st, 2012.

Today we had a school trip to the Cincinnati Freedom Center to learn about the times when slaves were running away. I had walked in with my three best friends, Marnie, Elizabeth, and Grace. All of them were just like me in personality. Marnie had long, wavy black hair that shined in the light. She had hazel eyes and a small petite body. She mostly wore converse, tees, and skinny jeans. She was more of a rocker kind of teenager. Elizabeth was the girliest of the group. With wearing flower dresses and high heels, you could pick her out of a crowd in seconds. Her long blonde hair flowed to her hips and her ocean blue eyes were embellished with eyeliner and mascara. She liked to look perfect. Grace wore a lot of black, though she wasn’t Goth. She just liked the color. She wore black skinny jeans, converse, and a Beatles t-shirt. As for me, I’m in-between all of them. I don’t really have a style. I’m sort of all over. Today I wore a white button down shirt over a white tank top that was tucked into my jean shorts. I wore brown suede heeled boots. I had my hair up in a messy ponytail and my brown satchel draped to my left side. People said I was a “fashion trend” but really all I do is wear what I want.

We were split up in groups, for our school was huge, and my friends and I were separated. I was paired up with a group of guys and the rest of the Flaming Three. You probably haven’t heard of this group of girls. They’re the popular group of girls that wears designer brands and gets the most attention out of all the school. Not to mention, they’re total bullies.

The Flaming Three consists of 3 girls. Chloe, Cassie, and one mystery girl that no one knows about. Every year a new girl is chosen to be in the Flaming Three. Every year someone from the school commits suicide. That’s how powerful the group can be, and now I’m right in their target zone. You could obviously tell they were talking about me. The way that they cover their mouths as the talk secrets into the other’s ear. The way that they stare straight at you as if you don’t notice. The way that they let you know that you’re the next victim.

And those were the only girls in the group. The only girls. 

Today he looked at me

Yeah. We're totally getting married.