One Big Change

My life had never been much. Little money, divorced parents, few friends, no siblings. Until one day. I had been ready for a new life. For a change. But I hadn't expected anything this big. Or anything at all, really. I had given up dreaming of a different life when I was five.



I didn’t notice the freak standing by my locker, because I was busy watching out for legs that had been stuck out to trip me up. I knew I wasn’t popular, but I really wish they’d just leave me alone. So when I finally reached my locker, I dropped my bags as he pointed one pale, white finger at my forehead.

“What the fuck happened to her?” asked one gruff voice I didn’t recognise as my ears stopped ringing and head stopped spinning. It stopped spinning, but didn’t stop throbbing. I knew from experience that I’d need a solid 12 hours sleep and three strong painkillers to reveal myself of the pain.

“I don’t know!” squeaked another, as I felt freezing hands touch my bare arms. They let go the second I blinked my eyes open.

“OH MY GOD! She’s one of them!” screamed a high pitched voice, and I heard, felt and saw hundreds of kids try and get away from me. Like I was a plague. They all just.... ran.

It hurt even more whenever they did this. When they all just ran. It was like they were rubbing it in. That they had friends to run off with. I tried to shrug it off, and attempted to stand up, staggering widely as I failed, just avoiding hitting my head on an open locker. I cursed under my breath, and walked out of the building.

My mind was still swimming. Why had they ran? And why couldn’t I remember anything? How had I fallen over? Had someone tripped me up again? Felt like it.

I crossed the parking lot, and swore again, loudly. I’d missed the bus. This meant I’d have to walk the whole way home. And that wasn’t an option. The step-loser wouldn’t come and get me, and mum would say God had willed me to forget the bus because of something I’d done! As if! If there was a God, life would be fair!

I began the long trek home. More than a mile, with this head. It never was going to be a good day. Especially with the sun blinding me and baking my head. Not that I’d tan. I don’t tan. I’m naturally pale. Forever. Just like I’d be alone. Forever.

Oh, I like it!!!
Well done!

Thanks.

See, that's better than mine!
ARGH!
I cant write, its offical!

You can write a lot better than me, but, thanks anyway.

I can't write for shit

No one reacted as I opened the door. No one ever did. No one greeted me, or rushed to hug me. No one ever did. I sighed, and slammed the door shut as I stamped my feet on the way upstairs to my room.

“HAYLEY!” shouted my mum. “Don’t!” she warned in her scary voice.

“Whatever,” I sighed, so she couldn’t hear me, and shut my bedroom door quietly.

I sighed again. I didn’t like my room. I had changed it as much as I could. I had brought my own black duvet, and the posters, and even the black lamp. But 10 dollars a month didn’t go far, when you had to buy toiletries as well. And all my clothes were too small, but I couldn’t afford to buy more. So my room was still the hideous yellow it was painted when I was four. In the happy days of their marriage. My dresser and desk were both yellow, as well. I hated my room.

It wasn’t until I had already trashed my make-up in the wasted tears that I caught my reflection in the tiny mirror on my desk. I blinked, and rushed over to it.

RED EYES?! Since when did I have red eyes? They’d always been the boring hazel like my mums’. That’s when the memories flooded back, and I screamed.

“HAYLEY!” yelled my mum, again. “I’m warning you!”

See? That’s the kind of mother I had! I had just been branded a freak by nature, and I was going to have to leave everything I knew and... well, that phrase doesn’t apply. I hate my life. And my mum was yelling because I was screaming!

“Fuck off,” I hissed under my breath, examining my eyes, wishing it was all a bad dream. A very bad a dream. My worse nightmare.

PippyQ wrote:You can write a lot better than me, but, thanks anyway.

I can not!

Nice, I like it!!

Dw, it should get a lot better. I know it's nothing atm.

Its brilliant!!!!!
Much better than anyhing I've EVER come up with!!!!

“Why me?” I kept whispering to myself. “Why me?” There were millions of people at school. Why did I have to be chosen? Couldn’t they have chosen Laura Bostock or James Hillbrook? Why me?!

No one had bothered to shout up and tell me it was time for tea. Mum had given up after the Step-loser had told her I was “just going through a rebellious stage, and God would save my mortal soul when I deserved it back”. I hated him. Religion was stupid and so was he!

But what did it matter? What did anything matter, anymore? I was going to a freak school. It wasn’t an option. If I didn’t go, I’d drop dead. I didn’t know how long I’d have left if I didn’t go. A day? Two? A week, maximum.

The thought was tempting. If I just stayed here, I wouldn’t have to do anything. But it wasn’t death that scared me. It was pain. And it was very painful to die that way. I would know. We had studied it for nearly a whole term.

“Hayley,” I heard his hideous voice say from outside my door. “Your mother and I want to talk to you.”

I sighed, wondering if I had to.

“Get downstairs, now, Hayley!” shouted my mother. So her. Now I didn’t have a choice. She would come up and slap me if I didn’t. It wasn’t in a child abuse sort of way, as I normally did start it.

I dragged my eyes away from their reflection in the mirror, and stood up. I opened my door and slunk down the stairs. I walked into the “cheerful” longue with a frown on my face. It was hard to pretend to be happy, and that got me in trouble.

“What is it this time?” I asked, wanting it over with.

“It-” began Gerald, then stopped.

“Oh my God! What is wrong with your eyes?!” shouted my mum in a furious voice.

NICE!

HOW DARE SHE HAVE EYE COLOUR CHANGING SURGERY

Greaat

Thanks hun!

And Thanks, Matt.

Good start, Pips

You guys are well nice.

Arent we just?!

except you Holly, your an idiot

Or is it Jolly, or Hade, I can never put my finger on it :/

Joking

Jakey!

Potentially another of Pippy's great stories. Love it so far. I don't know whether you intend it or not, but you have a really brilliant way of writing as a teenager thinks. How old are you? Anyway, really great start, keep it up.

I'm 13. And thanks Danny. That means a lot!