I walk down the hallway, head down, and not looking anyone in the eye. I pull my hood farther over my head and ignore the whispers. I ignore the feeling of people staring at me. I just want to get through the day without having to deal with these people.

I walk to my first class and walk to the back of the room where I see someone sitting in my spot. I scowl and walk up to my usual desk. I lift my head to where I can see his face and he can see my face. I give him a dark glare, signaling for him to get up.

He has the audacity to snicker at me. I give a harder glare and walk closer to him. I grab his shirt and jerk him up with my arm. He is surprised at my strength, and his face seems to become slightly pale.

I say through gritted teeth, "Move."

I let go of his shirt, and he hurries to pick up his backpack and walk to the front of the room to an empty desk. I set my backpack beside the desk and take a seat. It's then when I see the other guys staring at me wide eyed and the girls staring at me with disgust.

I look down at my desk and wait for class to start, ignoring some of the comments I hear.

"Miss Walker?" I look up and see my history teacher looking at me, along with every single student in the classroom.

I inwardly groan. "Yes?"

"I'm going to need you to take your hood down. It's against the rules to have it on," she says with slight reluctance in her tone.

I inwardly groan once again, but I pull the hood down anyway. I smooth my hair as she goes back to teaching. I give a sigh of relief because she didn't say anything more to me. I listen to her for the rest of class.

I go through my next two classes without having to get called on, which is a miracle. Soon, it's lunchtime. I hurry to my locker, take my lunch out, and hurry to the courtyard. I sit in front of one of the trees and pull out my small notebook and a pen.

A group of four girls sit at the picnic table a few feet away from me. I hear them trying to talk in hushed tones, but I am able to listen to their whole conversation because they're extremely loud.

"Oh my gosh, did you hear the news?" one girl asks excitedly.

"What?" another girl asks.

The first girl says, "Nick is moving here!"

The second girl gasps. "You're kidding?"

"Totally not!"

Another girl pipes in, "He said he was on an interview."

"Why in the heck is he moving to such a small town as Clearwater Bay?" the second girl asks.

The third girl answers the question. "Apparently, his aunt or something lives like right on the beach. He told the reporter that he wanted to have a small break and get some inspiration."

The first girl comes back into the conversation. "I can't wait until we have the Nick Caldwell living here! It's going to be so freaking amazing! Do you think he'll date anyone from here?! How cool would that be?"

"Don't be stupid. None of us can can compete with his rumored girlfriend. She's like a model or something," one of them replies.

I roll my eyes at their enthusiasm and go back to writing in my journal. I finish what I'm working on and finish my sandwich. By this time, they have already gotten up and gone back to the cafeteria.

I pull my hood back over my head and throw my trash away as I walk back inside to go to the library. Yes, I'm someone who enjoys going to the library. I'm not a student who slacks off or doesn't know anything. I actually kind of enjoy school. Sadly, most people think that I don't pay attention in class or even make good grades. I'm just the troubled girl who nobody wants to be friends with.

I walk into the library and give the library teacher a small nod before going back to the Historical Fiction section. I browse for a couple minutes before finding the book I want.

Ring. Ring.

I hurry to the librarian's desk to check my book out. That was the bell that rang, and I don't want to be the last one inside the classroom. That's a big no-no in my book. After checking my book out, I hurry to my locker and grab my books. As I rush to the classroom, I pull my hood off my head.

I walk into my next class and see that only a few people are there. I give a sigh of relief and sit down in my normal chair in the back of the room, just like all my classes.

"Oh my gosh, do you see her? I'm surprised she even has her hood down," an annoying voice whispers just loud enough so I can hear.

I don't even have to look up to know who it is. It's Queen Bee of the school, Cassandra Beckham. She thinks she's the most important person in the world because of how rich her dad is. If she knew what I could do to her, she wouldn't dare mess with me.

"Class, let's turn our attention to the front of the room," the teacher calls out.

Everybody sits down in their chairs, but Cassandra doesn't stop. She's sitting on the row next to me at a desk that is two desks forward from me. Her friends are around her, and they are throwing small paper balls at me. They whisper names that I won't repeat.

"Cassandra?" the teacher calls.

I hear Cassandra bolt around to face the front of the room. "Yes?" her overly sweet voice asks.

"Please face the front."

I hear her cuss under her breath once the teacher's back is to her. I roll my eyes at her bad attitude and ignore her and her friends for the rest of class.

~•••••~

The last bell rings, signaling that school is over. I give a sigh of relief and hurry to get all my things out of my locker so I can leave. Once I get all my stuff and go down the street, I break into a jog. I jog past all the small stores.

You see, as that girl at the lunch table stated, Clearwater Bay is small. The population is about three hundred, making it pretty safe. All teenagers can walk everywhere without the fear of getting hurt.

As I jog past the streets, I notice magazines in most of the windows with Nick Caldwell's face plastered on the front. I don't stop to read, but I can imagine the excitement almost all the girls in Clearwater Bay will have.

Nick Caldwell is a famous singer and actor. I enjoy his music, but I'm not at the ultimate fandom that all the girls are at that live in this town. I really don't get why they're so into him. I guess he's cute, but they shouldn't get so crazy over a person. I mean, he's just that, a person, and I'm pretty sure he puts his pants on the same way as everyone else does-- one leg at a time.

"Is that you, Maya? Where have you been?" I roll my eyes at the housekeeper's voice as I approach my so called "home" that is owned by my dreaded uncle.

"I'm right on time," I reply.

"Hurry up. Your uncle is visiting."

I roll my eyes yet again but go ahead and hurry inside the back door. She hands me a snack before turning back to her work. I sigh and walk out of the kitchen and upstairs to my room. I munch on my snack as I walk.

When I get to my room, I set my backpack on my bed and grab my homework. I sit down at my white desk and get to work. Almost two hours later, all of my homework is finished.

I sigh with relief and sit on my bed with my laptop out. I open up my writing folder and start writing where I had left off. My journal is off to the right where I can see what I wrote during lunch. I start copying it down, editing as I go. I work on that for another hour.

Knock. Knock.

I sigh and say, "Come in."

The housekeeper walks in with a tray in her hand. I smell some sort of chicken, green beans, bread, and mashed potatoes. She walks over to a small table in the corner of the room and sets the tray down.

"I have dinner for you."

I thank her and go back to my writing. She sighs and walks over to where I am. She forcefully takes the computer away from me. I whine as she sets it on my desk.

"Oh, hush," she scolds.

I scowl but go quiet. She points for me to go sit in the chair in front of the small table.

Part of me says to do as she says, but the other part, my rebel part, tells me to stay put. The housekeeper gives me a hard glare. I pause before making my decision. I stay put on my bed.

She scowls at me and walks over to my bed. She takes my hand and firmly pulls me to my feet. I scowl back at her and try to take my arm out of her grasp. Her grip just tightens, and she forcefully pushes me into my chair like I'm a little child.

"Do you want me to tell your uncle about this behavior? I will if you keep this up," she tells me when I try getting up.

I cringe at the mention of my uncle. I sit still in my chair, and I hear her snicker. She turns and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. I sigh and start eating my food.

As I eat, I look out my window and see a tall man walking in the backyard. I feel my body automatically tense up as I watch my uncle wander through the small garden. He walks around for about five minutes before walking back inside the house.

Knock. Knock.

I groan and harshly ask, "What?"

The housekeeper walks in. "Some respect might do you some good. I just came to tell you that your uncle wants to see you at seven-thirty. He has some things he needs to talk to you about."

I roll my eyes. "What happens if I don't come?"

She narrows her eyes. "I wouldn't try to find out if I were you."

"I'm a senior in high school. He should know that he needs to stop treating me like a child. If he actually cared about me, he would stop treating me like a useless person. He could also try being around occasionally," I spit back.

I look into her eyes and see anger in them. I give her a look of defiance, and she begins to look disgusted. I tell myself I don't care whether she is pleased or displeased. I tell myself that she's just like everyone else who doesn't like me.

"You," she snarls, "Are an ungrateful child. You could be on the streets right now. Actually, you should be on the streets. Instead, you are in a very comfortable home. You have food, clothes, and loads of things you don't need or deserve. Why do you have all that? Because of your uncle. You are lucky that he even agreed to take such a troubled child like you in. With you and your parent's background, it's a wonder that he's even related to you! If I were you, I would learn to be thankful and to not be such a spoiled brat."

With that, she stomps out of my room and slams the door. I unclench my fists, realizing that through her whole speech, I had become tense and angry. I take a deep breath and get my body to relax. I look at my clock and see that it's only seven fifteen.

I leave my table and take my laptop from my desk. I sit on my bed and go back to writing. I read over what I had written before I was forced to stop and eat. I pick up from there and start writing. I type for the next fifteen minutes.

I like to tell myself that I'm an amateur writer. I've always loved books. With books, I'm able to escape my life and go be in someone else's world. I get to experience things I'll never be able to experience in real life. I get happy endings in books.

I want to be a person who's able to help people escape into a whole different world. Through writing, I am finally able to be in control something. I feel happy when I write and have a sense of peace. It's kind of like a therapy for me. Ever since my parents...

Knock. Knock.

I sigh and save my chapter before closing my laptop and hopping off my bed. I take a quick look in my mirror and smooth my hair. I hurry to my door and quickly walk out.

The housekeeper gives me a dark glare before leading me down to my uncle's office. She leaves me once I'm in front of the French doors. I mess with my ponytail holder on my right wrist. It's a habit I do when I'm nervous.

I take a deep breath before knocking on the door. "Come in."

"Here goes nothing," I mutter as I push the doors open.

_________________________
Hey! Thanks so much for reading. I just have a few questions.

1) What did you think?
2) What do you think of Maya; do you like her or do you not like her?

Thanks again for reading! I'm sorry if it was a little slow. I just need to develop the characters at this point. I promise it will get more interesting!
~CGirlyGirl