Hatred - Chapter 2

Hey guys! update on the book! here's is the next chapter of the book by my wonderful friend kahlan. have fun!!

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“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

That’s the first thing I hear when I walk through the heavy oak doors. The next thing I knew, my stuff was knocked out of my hands and strewn across the floor. My journals were all around me, and my backpack had been taken from my back. My pencil case was being opened and the contents- pencils, hand lotion, a flash drive with family photos- were being thrown everywhere. I didn't get why he was doing this, but I knew it was probably because of me being a freshman, and even worse, a girl.

“What’s your problem? I was just walking by you-“

That’s all I got out though, because by that point he had pinned me to the floor and was starting to give me the biggest bruise ever known in history. Why was he doing this? Why was I always the one that got bullied? Whether it is mental or physical, it makes no difference. Maybe it’s just me. I mean my personality does come off shy at first sight, but that doesn't mean that you have to go wailing on me every time I walk past. Trust me when I say, this is not the first time this has happened.

“That will teach your brother not to mess with me, or my family.” And with that the boy was gone.

I wouldn't cry, not yet at least. I got my stuff packed up and started toward my first class.  I got inside the classroom, and low and behold, the boy is in my first class. This is the first time I realized him, not just his looks but also his smell. He had short cropped blonde hair and piercings all down his left ear. His eyes were as blue as a night sky. His lips, not totally proportionate but still full none the less. He smelled really good too. Like… Herbs and butter. Perhaps he bakes or cooks. He was wearing a red and black flannel shirt and dark wash skinny jeans. He looked kind of like a dork, only because he was wearing tube socks with low black converse.

My first day of high school, and I’m already hated by people I don’t even know. What I don’t get, is how he knew I was Alex’s sister? I've never met this boy in my life, nor had I known he was my brother’s enemy. My brother has no enemies; he is my brother after all. He’s only a junior and hasn't been able to make a whole lot of enemies. Apparently it is enough time though; I would know. I was just in the middle of it. 

The teacher walked in just then, breaking me out of my second reverie of the day. He went to the board and wrote in bright blue pen, Mr. Hart. He turned towards the class, and the first thing I notice is cologne. He either broke the bottle on himself, or he has some issues. He wore a pinstriped suit and had shaggy brown hair. I’m pretty sure he even had a tattoo peeking out above his collar.

“Good morning class, my name is Mr. Hart. This year I will be teaching you English and Drama. Today, I will be giving you your first book and go over some vocabulary. I will be asking for volunteers to help pass out books and to introduce themselves. Tell a little about themselves, and a little about their families,” explained Mr. Hart “the first book that we will be reading this year is Animal farm by George Orwell.”

I raised my hand. I didn't want to be the shy timid person that everyone thinks I am. I didn't want to be the last person to be standing on the line of fear and reality. Last of all, I didn't want this snob of a boy, who was sitting right in front of me, to take advantage of me anymore.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hart?” I asked, more nervous than I had hoped.

“Yes, miss… Bree Night. What could I do for you today?” he said while consulting a student list.

“Well first, I was wondering if you wanted me to pass some books out. Second, I wanted to volunteer to speak. In front of the class…”

He seemed to have gone into a trance, so I clapped to get him out of it. I only clapped because I didn’t know how to snap.

“Yes of course, Miss Night. Of course. Here, I’ll get the books and can someone help Miss Night here?” he handed me half the stack of twenty four and the other half to a guy named Tommy, without his consent of course. “While you are passing those out, you can tell us who you are and all that.”

That’s when I heard the noise.