Blonde hair, way too curly. Skin, way too pale. Personality, way too bland. The image in the mirror wasn't what she wanted to see. Every day, waking up and walking into the bathroom became a disappointment, the mirror seeming to only show the qualities that she hated about herself. She was seventeen, meaning it was supposed to be her time to blossom and become prettier and make more friends. Or at least that was what fantasy she lived in. Then reality began blaring in her ear.

The alarm clock was loud, its incessant beeping torturous to the ears of someone half-asleep. So logically, the snooze button was violently pressed until the noise ceased, only to start up again ten minutes later. That was when Brooke finally, reluctantly, crawled out of bed, dragging herself to the bathroom. She let out a sigh, dreading the return to school. It would be change of routine, and she had never adjusted well to changes. Tearing a brush through her blonde curls, she rushed, already off schedule. It wouldn't have been a problem if she had her license like most kids her age. And her own car.

Once her hair had been brushed thoroughly, a look of distaste crossed her features, seeing the curls become rather poofy, making all of her hair seem frizzy, with no time to fix it. So her near future only consisted of a rushed breakfast, a quick pop back in the bathroom, and then a walk to the bus stop where she could eagerly await the crowd of other kids, the vast majority younger than she was.

The bus pulled up, opening its doors to her slowly and slamming them shut as soon as she was up the second step, her backpack out of the way. Searching for a seat, she scanned the entire area as she walked down the narrow aisle. Everyone was shaking their heads or saying they were saving a seat for a friend. Despite the fact that she was the second to last bus stop and she knew everyone's friends couldn't all be at the same stop. Finally, she saw a boy around her age. He had blonde hair like her and he had his head leaned against the window, his headphones on to provide a barrier between the noise and his ears. Without saying anything, Brooke took the place beside him, causing him to look over at her and smile a bit. She smiled back, though it was an extremely brief exchange and soon all she was looking at was the back of the seat in front of her.

As terrible as the bus seemed some days, she enjoyed the moments where she could just relax and think about whatever was on her mind at that moment. A memory she tended to recall way too often was how she got to this place – How she came to live in the specific area she was in and how she came to have such negative thoughts about herself. There were parts of her past that she wanted to forget. Everyone had something like that in their past. For her, there was just too much to recall in one half hour drive to a crappy school where she would be ignored most of the day.

Her face exploded with pain as he displayed his brute strength, conveying the message that he was dominant and could control her with fear. Her tears seemed endless and his approach to parenting was merciless.

The bus pulled up by the sidewalk, jolting to a stop, eager to release the kids out into the cold and to a hard day of homework and social drama. Brooke blinked and looked around, needing to remember where she was. She saw the boy that was sitting beside her get up and she awkwardly gathered her belongings, shuffling through the double doors of the bus, heading toward the hell that awaited her. The problem with her history was that it hadn't stayed private. It spread through school like wildfire, even when she moved. A thought itched at the back of her mind, though. She recognized the boy she had sat next to but couldn't remember what in the world his name was. He was in two of her classes, but she usually just spaced out half of the time. Either way, she would remember eventually, and maybe they would have a class together again.

Even walking down the hallways had become an event that she dreaded. Everyone had heard about her past and the stares made her want to turn right back around and walk home, despite home being almost ten miles away. Brooke kept her head low, ducking into the classroom that was all too familiar, considering she had the same first hour as the previous year. The new faces in the room, however, were unsettling. She set her backpack down as she took a seat in the back, like usual. It was where the least amount of attention was focused. Which meant it was a safe place for her to sit and keep to herself. Until the teacher called on her to make sure she was actually paying attention.

"Brooke, do you know when the war took place?" His voice was sly and condescending in a way, his eyes shifting toward the unsuspecting girl. Brooke's eyes widened and she lifted her head from where it had been slumped against her left fist.
"Um…1921?" Her voice was soft and she could feel everyone's eyes on her, frustrating her slightly. When the teacher simply shook his head and corrected her, she felt a sense of relief wash over her since the flood of judgmental glances had dispersed.

The relief, unfortunately, was temporary. As soon as the hour was over and the next was beginning, Brooke was forced into the open hallway again. Despite the hallway being wide, she had never felt so claustrophobic. And the whispers that she had ignored before seemed louder than ever, echoing in her ears even worse than her wake-up alarm.
"Did you hear about her step dad..?"
"She's so…awkward.."
"Does she have any friends?"
She had heard all of the rumors and questions and accusations, but some days were worse than others. It just brought back memories of those personal times that she never discussed, nor did she want to.

The second class period went even slower than the first, but Brooke was thankful no unwanted attention had been directed toward her. After all, she was trying to grin and bear her way through the gossip, not add fuel to the flames. Remembering the mental and physical abuse she had suffered at the hands of her step-dad was enough for her.

The third class period, however, was where she finally remembered what she had been trying to remember earlier that morning. The boy on the bus, the one who was listening to music, his name was James. It was a common name, making her feel stupid for forgetting it. However, it was important if she was going to be stealing the seat beside him on the bus whenever it was convenient. Her memory was triggered by him sitting down three seats in front of her, pulling his ear buds out for what seemed like the first time that day. It was familiar to her.

Brooke had spent most of the hour watching James. She couldn't think of a time where he had ever said anything mean to her. Nor did he refuse to let her sit by him on the bus. While Brooke was spacing out, the teacher began calling out names, though it meant nothing to her until her name was called.
"Brooke, you'll be partnered with James for the project. Hopefully he can help you raise your grades a little."
Brooke felt her stomach drop a bit in nervousness. If he didn't hate her now, how would he feel when he was partnered with her? Surely he had heard all of the rumors and such floating around. Unless he didn't pay attention. Either way, she had no idea how to react so she simply nodded, figuring it'd be a chance to get to know him.

Once the class period was over, Brooke gathered her belongings, ready to head to lunch before James stopped her. When he spoke, his voice was a lot nicer and more optimistic than she had imagined. For some reason, she had always imagined him to mutter his words or sound harsh.

"Brooke, we can start working on that project after school. In the library. That alright?" He smiled, waiting in the doorway for her to respond.
"Uh yeah. That's fine." She managed to get out a short and quick response but as he turned to leave, she added "Wait. You're okay with working with me?"

"Yeah. Why? Is there a problem?" He shrugged and when the bell rang, left her standing there.

Maybe school wouldn't turn out as bad as she imagined.

The library was quiet. The school day had finally come to an end. Brooke felt her stomach tying itself into knots. She wanted to just come out and ask James what he thought about the rumors around school but was afraid of the answer he could give. So she simply sat at a table in the back corner of the library and kept her head down, hunched over the instructions for the project. The whispers behind her could hardly be classified as whispers, considering Brooke could hear every word.

"She went to some mental institution..Why is she here?"

Brooke was about to pluck up the courage to give them a piece of her mind but soon James plopped down in the chair beside her and she turned abruptly, surprised by his sudden appearance. For some reason, just his presence calmed her down significantly.

"So what parts do you want to do?"

Brooke was staring at his face, the expression confusing to her. She wondered if he actually cared about the project or not, considering most days he just had a blank expression on his face.

"Brooke?" He leaned toward her, blue eyes extremely obvious because of his proximity.

"Yeah?" She blinked a few times. It was like he had never asked anything. Or she wasn't paying attention, which was a lot more likely. He repeated his question, a pencil resting in his right hand as he waited for her response.
"I can do the background information and the bibliography if that's okay." She shrugged nonchalantly, though she had had to look at the instruction sheet quickly and make a quick decision, choosing one simple task and one more challenging task so as not to appear as a slacker.
"Then I'll do the people and places." His voice was soft, calm. He got up almost as suddenly as he had sat down and Brooke followed his movements with her eyes, watching him retrieve a laptop from the opposite corner of the room so they could start the presentation. The afternoon was dwindling away effortlessly: another hour of work and they hadn't even gotten halfway done.

"We can meet up after school tomorrow too if you want to."
Brooke had been putting her papers away when he spoke and she nodded. "Sure. Do you think we can finish?"
"If Mr. Bronnings doesn't pile more work on for the first week of school."

"Unless he assigns nap time for homework. That would be nice." She laughed after saying it, glad he seemed to have a mutual dislike for the teacher and making jokes about him weren't off-limits. Then he joined in the laughter. Loudly. Almost every head turned in their direction. The girl trying to avoid unwanted attention and the boy attracting it.

The days followed a similar pattern for the rest of the week: school and then project work. Meaning Brooke saw James after school every day, giving her more than enough time to decide that she couldn't remember any situation where he talked badly about her or looked at her like she was a maniac. It also gave her time to memorize his facial features. Short, rounded nose, almond shaped baby blues, and a strong jawline. He was attractive, but Brooke highly doubted he paid anywhere near as much attention to her. So her little crush was pretty much hopeless.

The day that they finally finished the project, however, was a surprise. During the actual class period, the teacher took on his usual tone, belittling his students with each word. His squared glasses were down to the tip of his nose, despite the book he was reading from being a mere two inches from his face. Brooke had always been weary around older men after everything that happened with her step-father. She still had scars, both mental and physical from the experience. Just thinking about it brought her back to that time.

The blade was sharp as she ran it over her bare wrist, the sorrow and anger manifesting themselves as the color red, staining her pale skin and the light carpet beneath her. From her parents' divorce to her dad's arrest, to the multiple family deaths, to the abuse at the hands of her new stepfather, the pain had become a coping method. It also became a way to punish herself for every imperfection she had, big or small.
Brooke snapped back to reality when James threw a wadded up piece of paper at her head. When she looked up, Mr. Bronnings was standing over her, his square lenses finally pushed up on his nose, his beady hazel eyes set in a glare. When had that happened?

Brooke could feel panic setting in as she left the classroom. The memories that she avoided had come flooding back and she just wanted to go outside and get some fresh air. Which she was about to do until James grabbed her arm.

"You okay?"

She nodded quickly, eager to end the conversation, but he wasn't buying it.

"You know, I understand how you feel. My dad used to knock me around and then both of my parents packed up and left me with my grandparents." His shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug as he slowly released her arm.

Brooke watched him in disbelief. Now she knew that he knew about the rumors and stories floating around, but she found it hard to believe he had gone through anything similar. He just seemed so normal. Did that make her broken? Before she could say anything, he put a hand on her shoulder, patting it soothingly and not leaving even when the warning bell rang, indicating the next class was about to start.
"We should, you know..Hang out sometime." He smiled charmingly, trying to make it obvious that he was asking her out. Interesting timing, but Brooke was thankful for the distraction. It took her mind off of the negativity that usually clouded her thoughts.

"Sure. Definitely. Library?" She laughed and he joined in, their first date set.


Brooke remembered the evening that they had had their first date that, for once, didn't take place at the school library.

He looked so embarrassed, standing there in a dress shirt and tie. She noticed that he had his usual goofy grin on his face and he was holding something behind his back. Before she could ask, he revealed a single red rose to her and all she could think about was how cliché she once pictured it to be when she saw it in romance books. But once it actually happened to her, it was one of the most romantic gestures, especially since James had never seemed the romantic type when she saw him at school.

Since that night, they had been pushed together more often by their families. Brooke smiled more and James must have smiled more because there were times when she couldn't get him to stop smiling. After their four month anniversary, Brooke had been surprised at the serious conversation that suddenly floated in the air on one of their many set-up dates that had been organized by their families after the two had spent some time apart due to school.

"You..you're really important to me, you know that? When I heard the rumors about you..I kind of wanted to stay away. But then we were assigned as partners and I figured all of those things didn't matter once I just saw you.." Brooke could hear how soft his voice was, indicating how embarrassed he was about the admission. Then his next statement was accompanied by him sticking his tongue out at her: "You're such a dork, who else would take you?" Brooke laughed and teasingly punched him in the shoulder before he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

James had become her rock throughout the school year. His light that surrounded her made her happier, even on bad days. When he kissed her, she felt wanted and she felt like the spiteful rumors that floated around her meant nothing. However, all good things must come to an end.
"You're pregnant?"
It was the first time she had ever heard him angry, speaking so harshly. She took a defensive position, instinctively turning slightly and resting her hands on her stomach, her arms tucked in closer to her. She would be the dreaded 'teen mom' and James wasn't making it any easier.

"Is it mine?" The accusation was rehearsed. As if he had begun practicing the first day they started dating which had been almost four months prior.

"Of course the baby is yours!" She lacked self esteem, but the baby's father was something she had one hundred percent confidence in.

The arguing only increased in magnitude, becoming worse than she had initially pictured. And within moments, James was turning his back on her, walking out the door.

It took Brooke a long time to realize that once he had walked away, he wasn't coming back. She stood there for what felt like years, though it had only been mere moments. What was she supposed to do? Pay for a paternity test when there was no money to spend? Demand him to help her care for the child when she had no control over any of his actions? Part of her had wanted to chase after him and plead with him to listen. Another part of her just wanted to curl up and sleep and pretend that she had never met James and had never gotten pregnant.

Before the denial and rejection toward his own child had ended, she spent her nights sending countless text messages, making numerous calls, and even walking to his house every once in a while to see if he would be brave enough to answer the door. The months that passed became full of wasted tears and wasted time. James had become a lost cause. She could either sit and cry in a corner or try her best to support her unborn child. So, as she saw James' back turned to her, she couldn't even bring herself to cry. She simply rested her hands on her stomach and, in her mind, sent the baby all of her strength, luck, and good intentions, hoping the world that she would be born into wouldn't show her as much cruelty.