Cdog and the Scholarship Kids

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Cdog and the Scholarship Kids, Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing!!! Twilight is totally for Stephanie
Meyer!!! I don’t get paid to write fan fiction, and I never will.
Warning: This story contains violence, sex, drug use, offensive
language, religious discussion, theft, bullying, suicide thoughts, etc.
Mucho adult content. Rated M for a reason, actually, for many
reasons. It also contains OOC. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Carlisle is mid-thirties, Esme mid-twenties. The kids are all about 16
at the start of this story and are going to reform school for their
junior year. This chapter is just to introduce them and why they got
in trouble. Don’t worry; they’re not all as emo as they seem here.
They’re just disgruntled right now.
xXx
Story Title: C-Dog and the Scholarship Kids
Chapter 1: Freakin’ Busted
xXx
Freak: Alice POV
Life sucks!!! It really sucks when you’re different from everyone
around you. And if you’re in high school in southern Mississippi and
you’re different from everyone around you then you may as well
just kill yourself because there’s probably nothing shittier than that.
That’s how it is for me. I’m weird, always have been. Whey I was
five and saw The Wizard of Oz for the first time I cried my eyes out
when the Wicked Witch died.
It’s not like I didn’t try to fit in, it just never worked out. I used to
try and wear whatever was in style, but I never felt very
comfortable in bright colors or pastels. Black has always been my
color. Plus, I was always a few steps behind everyone else in the
area of fashion. That happens when you don’t have money and you
can only afford stuff from the thrift stores. That’s where my family
gets our clothes. My sister, Cynthia, is average height, so she can
fit into more stuff than me. Even if you have to wear used clothes,
they should at least fit. But I’m really short, so nothing fits.
Sometimes I have to buy kid’s clothes. It really sucks.
My maw maw taught me to sew when I was a kid, before she had
the stroke. So when I have to get clothes that don’t fit I can resize
and alter them. Sometimes I take really shitty clothes and make
them into new outfits that are really cool. And when my big brother
left home to work offshore I got all his old jeans and tees. I had to
do a lot of work to make them fit, but I really thought they were
awesome, if faded and worn out. Unfortunately, they only look cool
to me. I guess my style’s a little dark for Biloxi. I’m not some sort
of depressed kid or anything, I just think skulls and zombies are
cool, and I really like to wear black.
So I’ve never really had any good friends. The only people who
hang out with me at school are the other outcasts, and I don’t really
have anything in common with them. Sometimes even they avoid
me because I’m the biggest freak in school and being too close to
me can be dangerous. So I spend lots of time alone in my room
writing in my journal. It’s a really cool notebook that I got at a local
bookstore that was going out of business. I bought it with my
babysitting money. Yeah, people actually let me watch their kids
and pay me for it. What the hell are they thinking?
I’ve been doing all sorts of jobs to earn spending money since I was
a kid.
Anyway, I decorated my journal with pictures of Nikki Sixx and Billy
Corgan cause they’re gods. I play bass too, so Sixx is totally my
idol. The guitar was a hand-me-down from my big brother too. And
I write all sorts of stuff in my journal. Sometimes I write poetry
about how shitty life is and how much I wanna die. Maybe I don’t
really wanna die, but life really does suck. Yeah, I’m kinda emo, but
I’m not as sad as I should be. I also wrote out a list called “people
who should be shot” and I wrote the names of all the kids who are
really mean to me. They call me freak and satanic whore and
monster fucker. They shove me against the lockers in the hallway
and trip me when I’m walking to my desk in class. I’ve learned to
sit right up front to avoid that, but they still throw paper wads at
my head when the teachers aren’t looking. Not that the teachers
would do anything. They don’t give a shit about me. My grades are
okay, but I’m not some overachiever like Lauren Mallory.
Lauren Mallory is the biggest bitch in school. She’s the very first
name on my list of people who should be shot. She’s also the
reason I’m being shipped off to reform school after this summer.
I already mentioned the journal and that I tried to fit in. Well I
recently made the mistake of trying again. Lauren and I came to
school with brand new hair cuts on the same day. She’d had hers
highlighted and cut into a really trendy style. I, on the other hand,
had chopped my long black hair off so that it was only a few inches
long and it stuck out all over. I thought it looked really cool and I
spiked it up with some of my mom’s hair shit. So I went to school
feeling like I looked awesome and I saw Lauren’s hair. We were
both in the bathroom and she was like, “Gee, that’s and interesting
haircut, Alice.” She sounded kinda snarky, but I tried to be nice. I
said, “Your hair looks really pretty, Lauren.” And I said it with the
nicest smile I could manage.
Well, apparently she told some people about our little exchange and
everyone started calling me a lesbian. The next day I got to school
and the word DYKE was spray-painted across my locker. It was so
embarrassing that I hid under the bleachers in the gym all day.
During that time I wrote a horribly violent and bloody story about
Lauren getting killed and mutilated by zombie pirate cannibals. It
was a pretty good story, I thought.
But a week later the school did a random locker search and found
my journal. I should never have left it in my locker. That was
stupid. STUPID ALICE!
The cops took me out of the school in handcuffs and I got booked
into one of those juvenile detention centers. My folks were pissed.
And the school expelled me right away. What’s worse, the journal
got around and everyone knew what was in it when I got out. I was
allowed to finish the tenth grade from home, but I was in deep shit.
My court date came and the judge said I had one shot at avoiding
going back to juvi. I’d have to apply and actually get into this
reform school for rich kids. Of course my folks couldn’t afford it, but
the people at the school had scholarships for underprivileged kids
like me. All I had to do was write an essay about how sorry I was
for plotting to kill my classmates and why I deserved a second
chance. FUCK THAT! That’s not fair! That was my private journal
and what I wrote was my business. So I basically rewrote the story
about Lauren and tried to prove why that bitch deserved to be
eaten by mutant zombie pirates. Looks like I’ll be spending a few
months in juvi.
Rage: Emmett POV
Okay, so when you’re the quarterback for the best high school
football team in the district and you’re as big as I am you’re a guy.
Right? When you only date cheerleaders and everyone wishes they
were you so they could have their pick of the hottest girls in school
you should be totally confident in your masculinity. Right? So if your
dad files for divorce and moves in with some skinny little sissy dude
what does that make you?
And Dad had to pick the week of Easter to tell us he was gay. It was
fucking embarrassing! He says he’s always had to hide who he was
inside because he was afraid he wouldn’t be accepted. I don’t know
what the fuck made him think I’d be okay with it or that anyone
else in town would be okay with it. Because no one fucking was.
What the hell am I supposed to think? If my dad’s gay then what
am I? His boyfriend is only a few years older than me. It’s
unnatural. It’s wrong! It’s gross. And everyone fucking knows.
Thanks a lot, dad! So it’s been real awkward for me and my little
bro lately. Our teachers know. My team and coach know. The
cheerleaders know. Everyone knows.
But the truth is that he’s still my dad and as angry as I am, I don’t
know if I hate him or not. So when Mike fucking Newton called my
dad a fag I fucking lost it. I remember hitting him the first time, but
the next thing I knew some guys from the wrestling team were
pulling me off him. Mike ended up in the hospital with a broken
nose and his jaw had to be wired shut. Guess I messed him up
pretty bad.
Of course, the Newtons pressed charges. Of course, I got kicked out
of school and finished the semester in an alternative school for
badass kids with anger management problems. Of course there was
no way I was going to be able to play football or finish high school
in my town. I was even looking at boot camp, you know, military
school or something like that. My one shot at getting out of it was
to write some sort of apology and beg for a second chance from
some shrink up north.
It was a better option than boot camp, but I just couldn’t see why I
should be sorry for kicking Mike’s ass. He called my dad a fag! He
deserved that ass whoopin’. So I wrote about how stupid it was that
I was expected to be sorry about what I did. Blew that chance,
didn’t I?
Cyber Bitch: Bella POV
People think I’m a bitch. And they’re probably right. Being shipped
back and forth between states several times a year by your parents
can make you a bitch, though. And when your dad up gets shot by
some lowlife scum drug dealer just for trying to do his job, well that
can make you a bitch too. So I guess I’m a bitch.
All my friends are probably bitches too. People hate me, but they
want to be me too. I get respect because I say whatever I think.
People like bitches almost as much as they hate them. But Jessica is
not a bitch. She’s a loser and she irritates the fuck out me, always
has. Mostly she just asked stupid questions in class and acted all
cheerful all the time. But one day she caught me smoking behind
the cafeteria and she fucking ratted on me. You never ever rat on
other kids, especially a bitch like me. She had to pay. And she did.
Now, I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty good at computer stuff.
So I set up this entire webpage dedicated to how much of a loser
Jessica was. And my friends, being bitches too, pitched in. After a
couple weeks everyone in school knew about the webpage and we
got hundreds of hits every day from people who wanted to add their
own opinions on Jessica’s loser status and read what everyone else
wrote. I even posted some Photoshopped pics of her with rat tails
and big rat teeth sticking out of her lips. It was priceless.
Unfortunately it was also against school policy.
I got reported to facebook and lost my account over the “Jessica
Stanley is a rat-faced loser who’ll never ever get laid” group I
started. My webpage got taken down too and I got called into the
principal’s office for a conference with the Stanleys and my mom
and stepdad and a couple faculty members. It sucked ass.
They said I could finish the school year, but I wouldn’t be allowed
back after the summer. Jessica’s parents were planning a civil suit
to collect damages for pain and suffering or some shit. Apparently
she’d had some sort of breakdown. It was just a fucking webpage. I
mean what the fuck?! But I was grounded until further notice and
was banned from all school activities. They even made me sit alone
at lunch and I was escorted through the hallways by one of the
school narcs. Mom and Phil were seriously pissed. They took my
computer away and my TV and everything.
The schools I could go to next year were freakin’ scary. I didn’t
belong in school with a bunch of juvenile delinquents. All I did was
build a fucking webpage and start a facebook group. Shit! Luckily I
still had my bitch friends. I wasn’t allowed to talk on the phone, so
we communicated in the bathroom since it was the only time we
could talk.
Before school was out my mom barged in my room with some
applications for different boarding schools that offered full
scholarships. I guess with the new baby she didn’t need me around
anymore. Fucking baby!
There was this one brochure for the Cullen Institute for Young
Adults up in Forks where my dad was from before he moved to
Portland. It required an essay about why I deserved to get a
scholarship to the place. I know it was a good opportunity for me
and maybe my only chance at avoiding the scary-as-shit alternative
schools, but I was so fucking mad at my mom that I wrote a ten
page essay about what a bitch my mom was for grounding me and
taking all my technology away. It’s not like I punched Jessica in the
face or dumped pig’s blood all over her. Why’d she even bother to
look at he webpage anyway. Besides, she ratted on me and it was
none of her fucking business if I smoked or not. Fucking Jessica
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