She nods and returns to her desk, obviously annoyed. I don't care though. I see the boy who was in the office come into the classroom. He smiles at a couple girls who smiled at him, and then he runs his hands through his curly black hair. He plops himself into a desk, and his two friends later join him. The teacher begins to teach the class. Thank goodness, she doesn't make me introduce myself. While the teacher is teaching, the curly hair bad boy keeps talking to his friends, annoying the teacher.

"Marcus." She says.

He looks at her.

"Can you be quiet so I can teach, or do you wanna teach the class?"

"Hmm.." Marcus pretends to think.

"Yeah no, I will not be quiet."

She walks over to him and hands him the purple Expo marker.

"Then teach the class."

I laugh quietly at his facial reaction to what the teacher had just said. But then I stop because he is scowling at me. My heart begins to beat fast, scared he will yell at me or something, but he smirks, grabs the marker, and goes up to the board.

"So class. Today we will be learning about math." He says. He actually sounded serious, but I knew he wasn't because of the smirk on his face. He was still glaring at me.

"Math." He says.

"Mental. Abuse. To humans." He explains while writing the acronym on the white board.

Some of the class bursts into laughter but I do not. Instead, I watch. I was very interested in what he would do next.

"But of course, overall, this is school. So. School." He says.

"Seven cruel hours of our lives." He says, stretching out the sentence. He finishes writing it on the whiteboard, and pops the cap back onto the marker.

He looks at the teacher, who's jaw is dropped, and then dramatically takes a bow.

"And that is all." He says, before taking a seat with his friends after the teacher arrives back to the front of the room.

Eventually the bell rings, and I grab my books, and exit the classroom. The bad boy walks up to me.

"Hey new girl." He says.

I hate bad boys. I increase my speed and he does the same.

"What class do you have next?" He asks.

My schedule paper was tucked under my arm. I try to pull it closer to me before he gets the idea to grab it, but he is too quick, and snatches it from under my arm, a smirk on his face. His facial expressions represent a Disney villain as he reads my schedule.

"We have the same schedule, new girl." He says.

I snatch my schedule back, snap my head away from him, and roll my eyes. I then speed up even more.

"Do you know where it is?" He asks me, referring to my next class.

"No. But I will find out on my own, thank you." I snap.

"Hmph. Enjoy. This teacher is super strict. He would crush your ego if you were late."

My eyes go wide and my heart begins to race as my anxiety takes over my mind. If I didn't let him show me where it was, then I could be late, and I'd be embarrassed in front of the whole class and they'd never forget it. I almost cry at the thought of how people would pick on me. I had a bad past of being bullied. I am snapped out of my anxious thoughts by Bad Boy Marcus.

"Uhm hello? Earth to new girl?"

I snap my face up at him, scowling.

I walk towards him, and a smug look takes over his face.

"I knew you'd come around, new girl."

When we arrive to the door, he stops. I look at him confused. I see his friends waiting by the door at the end of the hallway.

"I'm ditching this class, sweetheart. You go ahead. Unless you'd care to ditch with us?" He gestures to his friends.

"I'd rather die." I reply quietly.

"Suit yourself." He says.

He begins to walk away and then spins around on his heel.

"I didn't catch your name." He says.

"I didn't throw it." I reply sharply.

He smiles and walks towards his friends. My nosy side takes over me, and I watch him. A girl comes up to him and wraps her arm around his shoulders, and he wraps his arm around her waist. He called me sweetheart, yet he had a girlfriend?

I hate bad boys.

The rest of the day goes by and I manage to avoid Bad Boy Marcus. And annoying Claire. I went outside to eat my lunch, so I could be alone at a small picnic table. It was late February yet it was warm outside.

I eat my lunch. I think about my life. No one cares about me. I've come to that realization plenty of times before, but now it's really seeping in. The fake nurses at the ward don't care, never did. They just wanted their money. My mom did care about me, but dead people can't love you anymore. Or can they? The only reason I still decide to live is because I know if my mom was alive, she would want me to be strong. She would want me to live. But she's not alive, I remind myself. I sigh. I look down at my food and realize I haven't touched it. I pick up my tray, and throw it away. I had lost my appetite.