It has been about the fifth time I've walked through this hallway since I left class. The walls are still a dulling white and the beige-colored lockers still beige. The only remarkably interesting design is the tile floor which has dotted specs of black. There is an occasional streak of dirt and stains of a substance I could care less to figure out.

I stand against one of the lockers and continue my critical gaze. There is absolutely nothing glamorous about the school's architectural design; of course, there is always the spray-painted statue in the front of the school. Ingeniously, it has the initials of the perpetrator's name.

Next to me, I could hear the lecture of one of the underclassmen's history teachers. The ear-piercing ring of the school's last bell cuts her off before she can assign tonight's homework assignment. Manes of hair scatter out of the classrooms and chatter becomes increasingly loud as more students file out. I start to get a headache from all the commotion.

Among the heaps of faces, I spy relief and anxiousness to get off the school's campus. I wouldn't blame them; only a few teachers here are filled with liveliness, the rest are the typical drone. I didn't know why I was still lingering around. I guess the school has this mystical aroma that compels me to stay.

I close my eyes for a moment and blow out a breath of air. This headache just didn't want to go away, even more so with the slamming of lockers around me. All I can feel is the pulsing against my brain and hear this irritating high-pitched buzz that just so happens to be these girls squealing from excitement. I immediately recognize one of the girls as Sissy Hart and my mood gets even sourer.

I don't mean to be judgmental, or maybe I do, but that girl with her fake smile, fake laugh, and fake interest (basically fake everything) really pisses me off. She walks through the halls like she rules every piece of dirt wedged into the cracks of the tile and gum stuck underneath the desks. There was a time when we were actually friends too, the time when she had frizzy-butch hair and the oddest collection of bugs.

Those days have past, however, and now she has learned the magical use of hair products and straightening/curling irons. Although, I still have no idea what has come of her bug collection. I have a feeling she serenades them at night before she sleeps and tucks them underneath her bed. But, what do I know, right? After all, she's the one who ditched me freshmen summer, pre-sophomore year, just because some kids said I wasn't "cool" enough. Yeah, coming from no-lifers who waste their parent's money on overdosing on drugs and educating themselves in the life-of-the-moron, means a lot.

Sissy took the bait and stopped talking to me, though. Every time she would see me, especially around her "friends," she'd call me names, whisper behind my back like I couldn't hear. One time there was a nasty rumor spread about me and when I figured out that she made it, I tried to call her out on it, but all she did was laugh and tell her "friends" what a "wimpy" person I was because I couldn't "own up to [my] nasty habits." What's funny now is that they used her, made her more like them, and then ditched her. I suppose I'm the one having the last laugh.

The only good thing, if that's even the right word, that came out of those people is her popularity. It is the only substance that keeps her in the dating field. I'm a bit over-exaggerating since she does have some okay qualities, but while I'm on this hating spree I might as well toss that in there. Criticizing her may seem poor on my part, but it's not like the world turns because love is what keeps it spinning.

Speaking of the devil, she was currently in a wild conversation with Olivia Garcia. Garcia is a girl who doesn't know how to take "no" for an answer and is the only one who still talks to Sissy from the group who ditched her. Although, they seem the best of friends, you can tell there's a rivalry between the two. The competition to be queen at every dance isn't taken lightly during senior year.

On the other hand, there was Loraine Sanders, whom I've deemed, "Clingers." The reason for this name is eye-popping obvious; the girl is hooked like potatoes to Sissy's sun-tanned arm. Every time I walk through the halls I've seen this girl connected to it. It's really sad to think that I almost made acquaintance to such a dependant person. – And to think how I would ever use the facilities with another body to tug along…

I decided to can the thought out of my brain and actually leave the school grounds before I thought of something else messed up. Ironically, the exit was behind the three girls. I knew if Sissy saw me she'd think of something lame to say, but I'm not pansy enough to find another way out without some butch-face calling me names. I headed towards the exit with ease.

I was almost at the door before I got bumped into. Apparently, I decided to take leave when Sissy and what's-her-face were saying goodbye. I could already feel the anger rising from Sissy's skin; it was like she was on fire. It's either that or I am just so hot, I spread heat to every one around me. Sometimes my egotistical jokes make me feel buttered with laughs inside, but right now wasn't the proper time to burst out into laughter because of jokes I make inside of my head.

"Dyke alert," I heard Garcia mutter before her and Loraine splutter soft giggles. After, she just rolled her eyes and left. Sissy took this time to turn around and give me a look. I don't know how contortions of the face prove anything, but Sissy definitely has the mastery of ugly down. Loraine stood quietly waiting for Sissy to say something.

"Ew," Sissy commented, again contorting her face into a more horrific one. I have endured many of Sissy's and her friend's constant badgering but this has honestly got to be the most low-brained insult of them all. I can't even consider it an insult; it is more of a grunt than anything else. I almost want to laugh at its defectiveness.

"I could almost say the same thing to you too, Butch, but 'ew' doesn't even begin to cover it." I crack smile at my comment and start to head out the door. Sissy's hand keeps me from going.

"What did you say?" she growls, bringing her hand back to her body to cross her arms. I turn back to face her unnaturally waved hair and distorted face. Our height allowed us to stare levelly into each other's eyes. I debated whether to leave, but I was getting awfully tired of her attitude lately.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologize insincerely. Loraine loosens her hold on Sissy, knowing that a fight was about to erupt. "I forgot you had ears on that thing you call a face."

That definitely made her mad, I could feel her urge to hit me across the face and boy was I waiting for it. People nearby looked suspiciously at the hostile manner in which we stood against each other. I bet they were screaming inside for a reason to yell, "Fight!" Hell, even my insides screamed for it and all we were doing was having this staring contest.

"You've got some nerve," she breathed out slowly; it sounded like she was constipated. Loraine tugged at her arm to prevent a scene but Sissy just shrugged her off.

"Yeah," I taunted, "what're you going to do about it?" I was testing the patience I knew she didn't have. All she has to do is make the first move. My wishes seemed to come true when I was shoved against the lockers, back smashing into one of the knobs. I didn't show any pain because the adrenaline inside of me was pumping, "Wrong move, Hart."

Already a circle of students were forming around us. Loraine tried one more time to pull Sissy back, but had no such luck. I pushed Sissy a good distance away so I could throw in a punch. She came at me with hands formed into claws and let out a groan of frustration; her claws aimed for my hair. I restrained her hands and dug my nails into her skin, she stomped on my foot and my grip got even tighter. She let out a cry of pain before I threw her body on the floor and pounced on her, trying to sock her face. I got some good punches in before we were rolling on the dirty floor. At one point I had her face eating the ground and the next I had my face gashed. Finally, I heard the roar of, "Fight!"

Moments later, my body was being pulled away. I tried to fight against them and their nagging, "Stop," but I couldn't break loose. Sissy almost lunged at me while I was being restrained but a pair of arms held her back. Her lip was bleeding and I could see the forming of a black eye. I didn't even know what I looked like but I didn't care. All I knew was that I won.

Author's Note: I've recently rewrote this chapter and starting to get back into the whole writing business. Please give me constructive criticism so I can become a better writer. (: Also, I've tried slowing the pace down and I hope the details I've added support the story.