Taryn - CH. I

The first chapter of my current story, temporarily named "Taryn."

CH. I 

"So what am I supposed to say?" I asked Mrs. Harris, my first period chemistry teacher.

"Just tell the class about yourself, dear," she replied as she sat down at her desk and folded her hands over her lap. Mrs. Harris was an elderly, grandmother-like teacher with a dumbfounding love for chemistry.

"Well," I said, looking at out the class. I knew they were already judging me, already hating me, those "popular kids," because of my skin-tight ripped black jeans, combat boots, studded belt, plain black tank top over a long-sleeved fishnet shirt, snakebites, tongue ring, nose ring, blue eyes thickly rimmed in black eyeliner and my short blue-black hair spiked up in every direction. I had known from the moment I'd walked into this school on my first day-today-that I was going to be a loner here as well, just like at the seven other schools I've been to in the past four years. "My name is Taryn. I'm fifteen. I'm the vocalist for a punk-rock band called The Blade." I gestured to my jacket that I'd draped over my desk that had my band's name and logo on it, along with my matching messenger bag. "I can also play the drums, guitar, bass guitar and violin." I paused, glancing at Mrs. Harris.

"It sounds like you're quite the musician!" She said with a smile. Then she gestured for me to keep going. Fuck.

"I have a boyfriend, Draven, who is a professional photographer as well as the drummer in my band."

Suddenly a hand shot up.

"Uh, yeah?"

"If he's a professional photographer," the girl put a special emphasis on professional, "then wouldn't that mean he has to be, like, really old?" She popped her gum loudly, making me cringe slightly.

"He's twenty-five," I replied. "I rarely associate with people my own age, so it makes sense that he's older than me. I'm also the youngest in the band by six years."

"All your freaky friends are cradle robbers!" some guy in the back shouted. The class roared with laughter. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.

"To us, you're the freaks," I said as I gave him my finally perfected death glare. He sank into his desk.

"Thank you, Taryn," Mrs. Harris said, getting up from her desk and touching my arm gently. I was only five foot three and I was still at least half a head taller than her. Clinical dwarfism, maybe? "You can take a seat anywhere you'd like."

I chose the seat in the far back left corner. That way I could ignore these stupid people easier, and I could send more death glares to the jackass if necessary. As soon as I'd taken my seat, Mrs. Harris started talking about some element on the periodic table. I pulled out my iPhone and opened a text.

To: Draven <3

From: Taryn

D-

new school. same bitches and bastards. please. kill me now.

<3 -T

I received an immediate response.

T-

i'm sorry, my darling. meet me at our place in the woods at midnight?

<3 -D

D-

i'll be there :)

<3 –T

"Taryn?" Mrs. Harris asked. Apparently she'd already said my names a few times.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I do not tolerate cellular phone usage in my class. Since it is your first day, I will excuse it, but do not let it happen again. Are we clear?" I nodded as the class snickered. I silenced them with death glares.

Taryn's Journal 

Sometimes I think I'm just as bad as they are... I hate being judged by what's on the surface, and yet I do the exact same thing with them... I need to stop that. It's horrible, wrong and mean. It just goes to show how much fucking society has polluted my way of thinking... Note to self: stop watching TV. I refuse to become just like them...