I had to- sorry

I had to post this, sorry. It's a short story I wrote like, a year ago when I got like supper mad. Here it is. The beginnings shit though, sorry!
-Zella
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I walked down the too bright lights, down the newly polished tile floor, past the metallic lockers. Everything was a blur of brightness and happiness. Teenagers laughing and hugging, not happy to be back into school, but happy to see each other again.

I walked down the hall as freshmen and new kids stared at me with amazement, as the people I'd spent my life ignoring waved and said "hey Angel." I only kept walking, my high tops making a low slap on the shinny floor.

I popped a mint into my mouth as I got to my new locker. I had drank a lot last night, I mean a lot. Now I had a major hang over and vomit and gin breath. But like most days, I didn't give a rats ass if I threw up because I had drunk to much or pierced another part of my body. I just didn't care.

I got my new locker open, its door squealed lightly when I did. I got my backpack from off my back and opened it, propping it on my knee. I pulled out my new binder- black with those cute little characters on it, you know the yellow and blue on you always see on the internet but never know how to find them or what there names are- and my book BEAUTIFUL CITY OF THE DEAD.
I put my backpack on the hook of the locker and slammed my door closed. People looked my way, and smiled. Jesus, you would think that when I ignored people and yelled at them to fuck themselves you would think they wouldn't like me. But they always did. I sighed. Maybe it was because I was pretty, or at least that’s what Brandon Saxten said to me in 9th grade.
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"Holly shit, Angel. I swear every year you get a new piercing." He touched my new lip ring, I didn't flinch. Just kept looking at the stupid teacher talking about a book I had read last year. "And every year you get more and more sexy. Its like looking at a gothic angel."
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I sighed and walked into my homeroom, English. I sat down, not caring if there was a seat assignment. I stared at the tilled ceiling, the ones with all the holes- the ones that looked like people popped a bunch of pencils in them when they were bored- and thought.

I mean I didn't have that many piercing. I had a snake bights- two studs on either side of my lower lip- a small temple ring, like 5 carling rings on each ear, three piercing on the bottom of my ear, and a belly button ring. Not a lot compared to the Goths and emos I saw hanging out at the front entrances of the school at night- you know the ones with to tight pants and holed up shorts that like to smoke pot and listen to techno. I wore a lot of black and tried to screw up my face by wearing eye shadow and eyeliner like a raccoon- but I cant screw up my face enough to make that make up look ugly. It hid my face, made myself look like shit. Like who I really was underneath.

I heard the bell ring and a lot of scuffling of feet and laughing and talking, I didn't look away from the ceiling. I was starting to count how many holes there were in each tile, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21-

"Hey emo! Get up!" I looked up. A guy was standing in front of me, he was big and Spanish, the hint of a mustache under his ugly nose. I didn't know him, but my guess was he was one of those guys who thought he was all that. I glared at him, I hated people like him especially when they called me emo, I wasn’t that or Goth.

"Make me, fat ass." I said, making it clear that he had rolls of fat hanging from his side, his head looking bloated and stuffed. I could almost see the sign of boobies under his shirt.

He narrowed his eyes, making him look like a very tan sumoo reseller. "Shut the fuck up!"

I snickered, letting half my mouth twist up into a smile, "Not my problem you cant stop eating McDonalds."

He looked like he was about to say something, then suddenly half the class erupted into laughter. I hadn't realized they were listening till now. I let my smile grow bigger letting all of my mouth was turned up into an inplesant snarl that showed my whole upper row of teeth. He looked like he had tears in his eyes. "Ohh I'm sorry, do you need to cry?" I asked, I pointed toward the door. "Well since I'm a emo, I knew a great place to cry. Behind the bleachers, the sluts'll find you and if you pay 'em they'll give you a lap dance." People erupted in a laughter.

Suddenly Carla- a known a proud slut- said, "Yea but we might need to give you two because you might not feel it threw all that blubber." Another wave of laughter. I looked at the guy, he looked pissed and tears were in his eyes.

I stood up, putting both my hands on the edge of the table and scooted my chair out. All laughter stopped and people looked at me expectantly. This was what I was known for, what got me in trouble- besides the illegal stuff- this is what I lived for. I leaned into his face. "Don't fuck with me. I can make your life a shit hole till you die! I know people that could kill you without a doubt just because I told them too. I can make people tease you till you cry and pea your pants. Don’t call me emo or Goth or anything besides Angel." I looked him over, at the rolls of fat and skin. "Got it?"

He shook his head furiously. "Good, sit down." I nodded sharply to the seats in the front. He obeyed like a good boy. Suddenly the teacher entered the room.

He was sweaty and red faced, making his blond hair even blonder. "Sorry I’m late, class." He said. He put his brief case down and looked up just as I sat down. He seemed to look at the hole class at that moment. At every persons face, sometimes he commented on the people. Sometimes he just smiled or grunted. To me he simply said, "Get into any trouble over the weekend Ms Sin?"

I laughed, bubbly and light. Others laughed too. I always got into trouble, last year I had been nominated "Most likely to end up in jail after graduation" and won. "Sorry," I teased. "Can't do and tell."

He nodded, smiling. And went down the rows. He stopped at the boy I had just made fun of. "By God," Mr. Baxter said. "What happened to you?"

The boy turned around and pointed a finger at me. I could see his pudgy face red and swollen from the tears running down his face. "She happened!" He accused.

The teacher tsked. "Mss Sin I must say. You made our last principal quit because of the student harassment you were giving. Are you going to do it to this one too?" He shook his head and people laughed.

I stood up, grabbing my stuff. Mr. Baxter had a slip in his hand, already filled out with my name in it. I wrinkled my nose and asked if he was expecting this. He leaned in closer and whispered in my ear, "I thought there would be a better chance of you getting in trouble then not." I chuckled and left.

It was odd, Mr. Baxter was one of those rare people who didn't try to hide who they were. I loved that about him and if he wasn't so old I would kiss him sometimes. I walked toward the front of the school, squinting at the too bright lights of the fluorescents. I stopped at a door, it was kind of like the detectives door kind of the one you always saw in old black a white mysteries. Except in front of it is said Principal Shield in small balk print. Wow, some name!

I walked in with out knocking. The woman behind the desk looked up, a frown on her middle aged face. She had been leaning down, writing on papers. Her eyes widened when she saw me. "My lord! What are you wearing?" She asked.

I looked down at my body. I was wearing black converse, fish net stockings-they were the kind of tights that attached to the underwear with two sleazy looking buckles- that ended a half inch below my black tutu. I was wearing a black corset with red lace and a black tank top under it (for the school dress code). I shrugged. "Clothes."

She kept staring. "No no no. Those aren’t clothes. Those are pieces of fabric."
I sighed and sat down in one of the chairs facing her desk.

"I'm not in here for my clothes."

She raised her eyebrows. "Ohh?"

"Yea. I fit the code, lady."

She squinted her eyes at me and raised her chin in defense. "Its Principal Shield."

"And what a name it is!" I said sarcastically. I hated her already.

Her face turned angry, and it looked like she was about to say something, but all she did was take a deep breath and asked, "What are you in here for?"

I smiled at the thought, "Made a fat kid cry."

She didn't look surprised. "And why is that?"

"He called me emo, I defended myself and he cried." I shrugged. "No big deal."

"But it is. I don’t want my students to feel threatened at this school."

I snorted at her words. "Good luck." I muttered under my breath. If she heard or not she didn’t say anything about it.

"Who are your parents? I’m going to have to call them." She said.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sin. You can reach my dad at his work phone this time a day and my moms out shopping in Paris." I said. My parents were rich, with a big mansion and private jets and shopping in Europe every other week end.

She sighed. "Come on. You think I’m going to believe that?"

I shrugged.

She typed something on her computer and look surprised. "Your last name is really Sin?" She asked. I nodded. God, it wasn’t even second period and I was already tired of seeing everyone. My hangover hurt more than it did a couple of minutes ago and I was starting to hear a BUZZZ, like you can hear when a fly sworms to close to your ear or theres a computer on.

"Bye." I said and left before she could say anything else.

I walked back to class, just to amuse the fat guy that I didn't get in trouble. When I walked into class the teacher was lecturing, his face had cooled off and was less red, his armpits less dense. He shook his head when he saw me. "Got off easy hu?"

I pshhed. "She isn’t so tuff, just talked to me about my tutu." I fluttered my eyelids and people laughed. God, I was on a roll today. I looked back at the fat kid. He squirmed in his seat when he saw me. I narrowed my eyes and purposely bumped his arm when I walked by. The jock behind his lifted his hands wiggling all 10 of his fingers and "oohhhhhhhhhhhhh"ed at him.

I smiled, now I had claimed the boy a victim. He would have a living hell here.

As soon as I sat down the overhead yelled, "Angel Sin, please report to the freshmen hall class A-4. I repeat, Angel Sin, please report to the freshmen hall class A-4." I sighed. I hated it when they called me to the freshmen hall. All the short people and the players were in the freshmen hall.

I stood up and left without a word. Walked down the senior hall and across the school into the freshmen hall. I hated this part. I was smart, really smart. People had offered me college scholarships since I was a freshmen. Half of it because I was in People’s magazine with the headline, "Millionaire Sin's daughter said to be the smarted teenager alive!" I sighed. It wasn’t special it happened a lot. Low class people getting into newspapers or rich people being bombarded by the press, I didn't flaunt it or hide it, just excepted it.

I found room A-4. The English room. They often called me to the room so I could tell them shit. I entered without knocking and looked at the class as I shut the door. People stared, there were some I recognized as siblings from the people in my grade, some I didn't. They all stared though.

"Ahh! There you are. I was just explaining to them about you , Angel."

I looked at the teacher, Mrs. Hatchway. She was a skinny woman with a heart shaped face and white hair always pulled into a ugly bun. I nodded to her. I didn't like her. She was one of those pity party people.

She handed me a sheet of paper that had a story I wrote last year. "Please, read."