To be good, as an adjective, was to be "desired of or approved of". It was "having the qualities required for a particular role" and playing that role to perfection. As a person goodness was what I spent my whole life trying to acquire but never fully attaining. i pretended to be good for so long that I wasn't expecting the world to turn upside down.

It was early in the morning as I walked up to the empty bus stop near my house. I heard the flutter of leaves in the crisp autumn air as they whipped past my uncovered ears. I pulled my pale plum colored jacket tighter against my body to avoid the onslaught of the brisk wind. However, without a hat to cover my head, I was left exposed to the elements. The earthy tones of the fall season brought out the darker tones of red in my curled long hair. I tried not to chew on my chapped lips as I waited for my long awaited last 'first' day of high school to commence. I was no longer a child anymore; I was seventeen.

Felix pulled up to my stop with his usual tardiness and gave me a wide eyed grin. His green eyes bore into mine without hesitation and I couldn't help but crack a slight smile in his direction. "Hope you had a good summer, Rowen", Felix stated as I made my way onto the bus. As a bus driver Felix made high school bus rides bearable with his chirpy attitude.

"I didn't die", I told him in my raspy timbre. I walked down the empty row of bus seats with anticipation and angst. I liked that I was one of the first stops on the route to school because it gave me time to find a spot on the bus that will help me hide away from my classmates. I knew that some people were always going to seek me out no matter how hard I tried to sink into the background.

Today I didn't notice Ember or Beth and the group of Barbie bitches in tow. The lack of torture from those girls allowed me to relax for the bus ride. In fact I barely recognized most of the people on the bus today; except him. His uninviting cold gaze still caused my insides to churn with displeasure. Nixon Barros with those cruel icy blue eyes and dark black hair, had a face that was both rough and beautiful. He was of a tall disposition, with broad shoulders and a stiff frame that made me squirm. I bit my lip in nervousness as our eyes met for a brief moment but I turned away. Nixon was someone I tried to avoid at all costs because I saw violence in that gaze. I didn't like the way he made my pulse race rapidly against my chest when he looked at me.

I took a deep breath to still my ever racing pulse and reminded myself of my breathing techniques. My psychiatrist Ann claimed that deep breathing helped to establish an inner peacefulness within my soul. Ann was pretty resourceful but her whole idea of inner peace was a bunch of bull crap. The breathing only helped quell that feeling of impending doom from my mind. I spent the rest of the bus ride staring aimlessly out the window as a world of warm colors blended together rapidly. I wanted to paint this moment the second I had free time later tonight.

The high school appeared before my eyes too quickly for my nerves. As students slowly left the bus I waited to make my move. I fumbled around the bus with lazy undetermined steps, towards my doom, with a grim expression. "Girl. Don't look so down. You'll be home before you know it", Felix stated with a concerned look.

"Thanks", I muttered softly. "But it's off to the gallows with me", I told him in a regretfully honest tone. I might as well be heading towards my execution with the way people treated me here.

There was a large mass of students all filled with body sweat who were making conversation as they dilly dallied on their way into school. It was annoying and yet welcoming to blend into a large crowd of people. I strode carefully across the crumbling pavement leading to the back door. I felt a familiar ache in my chest as I watched everyone chatting away with their friends. I knew most people stayed away from me because of the risks that came with being my friend. i was lonely.

I found a quiet place away from the horde of students so I could go through my purple jansport backpack. I pulled out a lavender colored folder with my name written in dark purple gel pen on the top left corner. Inside I found the paper that listed the class that I had to go to for homeroom this morning. I looked at the chipped yellow paint on the walls with melancholy. I walked until I reached the oak colored door that was my homeroom.

I already knew that behind the oak door was a room filled with the judgmental eyes of my peers. I slipped into the room as noiselessly as possible with the intent of avoiding conflict. I was successful for the moment.

If I were a chameleon I would have blended in with the wall in an instant. Since I was not, I forced myself to shrink back in my chair, and let hair covering my face. I didn't recognize many of the people in homeroom either; except Nixon and Ember. I suddenly wished I had a different last name so I could go to another homeroom but fate was cruel.

Nixon had his headphones in with a grim expression on his face. Ember relentlessly tried to grab his attention. I was grateful that Ember had preoccupied herself with obsessing over Nixon because I found a seat without anyone noticing me. The bell rang in a shrill pitch that brought conversations to a hushed level.

"Attention everyone", Mr. Hawthorne stated to the classroom. "If you want your schedules you'll have to listen up for a little bit", he droned on. Mr. Hawthorne had a toupee that hung unevenly on his head and large quirky glasses. He was rather drab but his heart was in the right place. I tried my best to listen to him drone on about creating our last high school memories as seniors. I felt bad for him most days because of the way students treated him. Even though he was a klutzy man I couldn't help but like Mr. Hawthorne. He taught my second favorite subject; English. I loved to escape from the world while reading. I found all the words I wished i could say in the depths of a well written book. Art with Mrs Thompson was my favorite subject.

After Mr. Hawthorne's painfully boring speech was completed I grasped my schedule for the next year in my hands with caution. I desperately wanted this year to pass by quickly so I could finally stop pretending to fit in with the world. I tried to be good all my life. I tried to fit into the particular role that Aunt Tabby and Ann came to expect of me. I did everything they wanted me to and didn't spend much time doting on what I wanted.

As I made my way out of the classroom I noticed a pair of hate filled eyes bore into my skin. A dark ball of fear constricted my airways as Ember walked straight towards me. "I've been waiting all summer to do this", Ember said. Ember pulled the folder I carefully put together this morning, that held the papers I needed for today, and tossed everything inside the folder out into the hallway. I was like that paper; trampled, battered and whittled away to almost nothingness. I was left in a sea of people hoping that someone would pick up the pieces that Were me.

"Today is just the beginning", Ember whispered with a wicked grin lighting up her troll like face and sauntered away victoriously.

I walked away with swaying footsteps trying to stop all four walls from closing in on me. It was a miracle that I made it to the guidance counselors office without having a panic attack. I felt my face burning from sadness, embarrassment, but most of all shame. i was ashamed of myself for letting them walk all over me.

I walked up to the receptionist, I believed her name was Veronica, who looked annoyed by my presence. "Is there something I can help you with Rowen?", she asked reluctantly.

"Yes. I need a new schedule this morning. Can I get a new one", I asked her in an annoyed tone. I had to make up an excuse for losing my schedule that satisfied her. I didn't mind enduring the torment of Ember. In comparison to the pain that endured many years ago this torment was dull. "I dropped it earlier", I told her.

"Ok. I need your information", she said. I rang off my school identification number without hesitation. I listened to the clacking sounds of her manicured fingers as she typed on the keyboard. Her name tag read Veronica; I knew I was right. "Ah. Rowen Whitley. Have a seat. I'll have that for you in one moment", she stated. It was clear by her tone that she was angry but I was used to it. She always had that bitchy attitude so I know it was not just me she hated.

I waited for the receptionist who muttered irritating words under her breath. She flicked her hair over her shoulders and scrunched up her face several times throughout the whole ordeal. "Rowen, I have your schedule. Please try not to drop this one on the floor as well" she stated. "Also make sure you don't miss your appointment tomorrow with Mr. Peters", she finished.

I grabbed the paper hesitantly from her hands. "I won't forget. Also can I have a late pass", I muttered nervously. I hated speaking to others because I didn't like the sound of my voice. My voice drew unwanted attention because it was so deep and throaty.

She scribbled onto a late pass swiftly. She was probably hoping to rid herself of someone as unendurable as me. "Alright. Here", she said. I ran out of there as quickly as possible to avoid further communication. I didn't want to see anyone who might actually want to talk with me, such as, Mr. Peters. I knew I had an appointment with him tomorrow but that didn't mean we were on friendly terms. He was annoying with all his fake motivational speeches in which he pretended to care about my well being.

I walked in late to my first class of A.P. History with Mr. Arches. "Nice of you to join us, uhmm", he said skimming through the class roster.

"It's Rowen, sir", I said ever so softly. I held up the late pass. I didn't wait for him to respond but instead took the only seat left. To my dismay, it just so happens that I sat in the very front of the class. I almost tripped and heard the snickers of my classmates. My face burned bright red as I sat down and tried to will myself to disappear.

I listened with intense focus to Mr. Arches. He talked enthusiastically about the class topics for the year. I wished that I left a better impression on him because he seemed like a cool guy. I liked the way he articulated his words with eloquence; it showed the depth of his knowledge. In the middle of his speech a wad of paper landed on my desk. I didn't allow myself to look at it because I wanted to focus on the class outline for the year.

When the bell rang, I opened the wad of paper with minimal effort, and found the words 'Go Die' scribbled in pink gel. To make matters worse Mr. Arches stopped me from leaving class. "Rowen, stay behind for a moment", he said looking at me. I watched the class empty out quickly with students whispering about me. When we were alone he turned to me;

"I hope that you don't make a habit out of coming to my class late", he said in a curt tone.

"No sir. I dropped my schedule", I said as I cast my eyes downward. Mr. Arches looked me over with a veiled expression. .

"Very well then. I'll see you tomorrow and don't be late. I do not tolerate lateness even if it's the first week of school", he said in a instructive tone.

After he dismissed me I had to practically run to third period. As I took a seat, I looked at that stupid wad of crumpled up paper in my hand with a heavy heart. I thought of the words my therapist said to me "think of yourself like a piece of wood that is being whittled. You are being molded into something with purpose. If people try to take pieces of you they can't because you aren't yet finished". I wondered what might be left behind? After these years of being constantly whittled away, what would I look like?