Author: llivia PM
Friday is a lonely girl who has a eating disorder and self harmsRated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Drama - Chapters: 3 - Words: 4,184 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 07-12-05 - id: 1961484
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
If you wanted a typical teen, a girl who would chase boys, know the latest gosip and have a never ending supply of lipgloss, you would not use Friday Johnson as an example. Friday never tried to fit in, she knew she was different from the blonde airheads that ruled her school. Her short, dyed black hair, lip ring, army boots and black lipstick was not acceptable in society. On the train she was stared at and at school she was taunted. Friday never heard them because she hardly took off her headphones, even in class. Friday never fit, she was made to be a spanner in the works, born to rebel. Why her parents had ever agreed to raise her, she didn't know. All she knew is that one day life would end, and she refused to sit here and take crap from people who didn't understand her. You see, Friday is not your typical teenage girl, she was never meant to be.
"Morning" sighed francis as he breezed past Friday and into the classroom. Friday was smoking by the open window, it was early, she liked to get there before everyone else.
"How was your date with Marcelle?" She asked stubbing out her ciggerette and jumping down from the window edge. Francis stared dreamily at her. Friday rolled her eyes.
"perfect. She is so great Friday, you should meet her" he said chucking his bag down next to his desk and joining her at the window.
"I dont meet cheerleaders" Friday said shortly.
"She's not a cheerleader she's in the band" Francis objected. "and besides, you know I'd never date a cheerleader"
"whatever..." Friday sighed and stalked out of the classroom. Francis shook his head. He was never going to understand that girl. They had been friends since children, and they were both fifteen now and you would think Francis would know her by now. But nobody ever truly knew Friday, she hardly knew herself.
In the girls bathroom Friday was staring at herself in the mirror, her hands gripping either side of the sink. She was breathing heavily.
"stop it!" she hissed to herself in the mirror. Friday bit her lip hard until it hurt. It wasn't enough for her. Friday rumaged through he worn black bag and took out her scissors. friday made her way back over to the sink, and slowly drew the scissors across her arm. Tiny drops of blood burst along the cut and Friday closed her eyes as the pain seeped up her arm, refreshing her. When she opened it the blood had dripped down her arm and into the sink. Friday watched it as the blood crawled towards the plughole.
"Miss. Johnson!" Friday heard someone called and she hurried to conceal the scissors in her bag. She heard the bathroom door open behind her and turned around, hiding her bleeding arm behind her back. It was her form teacher, Ms. Adam.
"Friday, what are you doing" The teacher asked curiously trying to see what was behind her back.
"nothing miss" Friday replied. There was no emotion in her voice. The teacher eyed her.
"well, hurry back to class, I've already taken registration" she said before turning and leaving Friday alone in the bathroom. Friday washed her arm in the sink and put her purple jumper on to hide the cut. Before she left, she looked at herself in the mirror, The dark jeans, army boots, black hair tied back, the heavy eyeliner and black lipstick. Suddenly it seemed so old.
"well done, Friday" she muttered to herself and stalked out as the last drop of blood inched its way down the sinks basin, lingering at the plughole, before disapearing into the darkness.
"get away freak! you'll infect me!" Airhead Alison Burns smirked as Friday paced slowly up to her desk at the back of the class. Friday ignored her and looked straight ahead.
"Miss. Burns! Concentrate on your work!" The teacher snapped from up front. Friday sat down at her desk and took out her notebook. There was someone she trusted in this world, well not exactly a someone but something. Her notebook. This is where she wrote down everything crap about her life. Friday was on her third this year.
"Friday Johnson, are you working" Friday groaned and shut her notebook.
"yes...miss..." she replied sullely taking out her work. Today would suck and she knew it.