"I just don't see what watching 'Myth Busters' is doing to help our advancements in Algebra, Miss. Simmons."

I groan, and so does the rest of the class. I mutter curse words towards Shaya under my breath. There is only one more year with this insipid girl and her love for learning.

Don't get me wrong, I love learning too, but she makes it her whole livelihood. She's a snitch when it comes to substitutes. We also end up doing extra work because of her loud mouth.

Luckily, today, the substitute is too tired to teach and wants us to just watch Myth Busters. She tells Shaya to sit down and relax for a day.

Of course, miss. Perfect isn't satisfied and takes out her Algebra book to study ahead.

I'm not saying she's wrong for wanting to do it herself, but she shouldn't force everyone else to go down with her!

By the time P.E rolls around, I'm already making excuses on why I can't play today. But each one ends up with a call to my parents. That's a no-go.

I grunt audibly for the second time today and make my way to the gym. Changing in the girls' room is the worst. There are so many insecurities and girls who use those insecurities against one another.

I choose to change in the stall because I'm not about to be a part of this problem between children.

My long boy shorts and random t-shirt make me feel inferior already, but I pull myself together and walk out to the floor where we're all in a group.

Coach Evans blows his whistle, and everyone quiets down to listen. "Today we're playing dodge ball." Numerous hoots and hollers from the boys can be heard while the girls groan in frustration. "Matthew's, Davis, you're team captains. Pick your teams."

Great, another favoritism act by coach Evans. Of course, I'm not last, but I'm definitely not the first or 5th choice.

The game goes on with me in the back, just chilling. No one pays me any mind, so are we really losing?

"Carns, you're the last one left. Stay focused."

I'm knocked out of my daydream as I look in front of me. Two boys and a girl are left. Sadie, Mason, and Zach.

Only two of them have a ball because the rest are on my side. I grab one and look directly at Sadie. Bitch.

I throw it directly at her feet so she has no room to grab it. It bounces off of her, and my tem cheers from the sidelines.

Mason tries throwing his at me, but I dodge it easily. I take one and throw it at him, missing him by an inch. I pick up another just as he's about to throw the one I just threw.

I chuck it at him violently and hit him on the arm. My team cheers again. I look back at Zach. He's the last one standing. I can't let him win.

I grab one just in time for him to throw his at me. I use the ball I have in my hand to push it away from me, unfortunately making it go back to him.

I tried three times to hit this guy, but he's not going down without a fight. Well, tough guy, neither am I. He almost gets me but loses his last ball sadly. Sarcasm.

I take no mercy and aim for his legs like I have been, but switch it up last minute and go for his chest instead.

And I was right. He went for his legs but kept his torso open. Everyone cheered and high fived me, and by everyone, just mainly the boys. Girls never care about playing dodge ball here.

I go change in my stall, soaked with sweat, taking my gym clothes home with me to wash. I spray some perfume on me just in case and head out.

I ignore the snide remarks and nonsense that come out of these girls' mouths and head towards my locker so I can grab my homework.

I better get back before 3:30 or else I might be late. My parents lock the doors after 3:30. If I'm not home, I have to walk to their work and get the keys.

They both work the second shift, so I'm left alone all day to do homework, chores, and relax.

"Hey. Yazmin, right?" I close my locker, looking back behind me to the voice. It's that kid, Zach. "I wanted to tell you; that was a good game."

I smile lightly and say thank you, attempting to get home quickly. But he stops me again by grabbing my shoulder. "I really have to get home. Don't take it personally. Or do. I can't control you."

I go to leave again, but he steps in front of me. "Look, I know you're good at English and Mrs. Haemond is having us write a creative story. I'm kind of terrible at it because I've never done it. I was hoping you could help me?"

"I'm sorry, I can't. My parents wouldn't allow me out after 3:30. I gotta man the fort." I explain, moving my backpack to the other shoulder.

"What about during study hall? Or lunch? I'll pay you. Please?" He begs.

I sigh. The money would be nice for my savings. I need all the money I can get for when I move out next year. "Fine. But only for this week."

He smiles wide, thanking me before he hands me his number, and we part our separate ways, me heading home.

Just in time before they leave. Mom's making their lunches and dad's . . .well, struggling to put on his tie.

"Cook if you want something but do the damn dishes, Yazmin." I nod and head to the stairs, stopping when she speaks again. "Don't forget your chores and any homework, young lady."

"Yes, ma'am." I continue to my bedroom, setting up my homework for when I'm done with everything else. I listen for them both to leave, checking out the window to make sure, before heading back downstairs to make something to eat.

I decide on making us all something, so it's one less thing I have to hear about. I can already hear my mom saying, "We work all this time to come home to nothing? Disgraceful."

My mom can't cook very well, so I took a culinary class back in 7th grade. I pull out some chicken, coating it with seasoned breadcrumbs and dropping them in oil. I know oil isn't the healthiest, but food is food, and my dad is cheap.

I grab two cans of string green beans, heating it in a pan on the stove. I grab a separate pan, cutting up some potatoes and adding some water to it.

As everything cooks, I finish up their dishes from breakfast and sweep the floors. Once everything is cooked and the potatoes are mashed, I plate mine and put the rest in containers and in the fridge.

God, I love fried chicken. I finish quickly, starting on the rest of the dishes, moping, organizing, and finishing with the bathroom. I hate doing my parents' bathroom. My dad is disgusting.

I finish up, showering, then tackling my homework. #1: Find a and b so that the rational function f(x) = (ax4 + bx3 + 3) / (x3 - 2) has an oblique asymptote given by y = 2x - 3

What is this shit? I may be smart, but I am not a genius. I grunt pathetically and grab the home phone, dialing Sabrina's number I learned by heart.

"Hello?"

"Bri! How's my main girl?" I ask her.

I hear her sigh on the other end of the phone. She still sounds super sick, and I feel as if she's not getting any better. "Yazmin, is this about your Algebra again?"

"No. Definitely not." Lies.

We both chuckle. "You know I suck at it too, just less than you."

"Bitch."

"Bitch." She follows suit. "Why don't you just ask that kid, Zach. He helped me with my homework a few times, remember? He's like a pro."

"Damn, I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask. Thanks, Brina. Feel better, my love."

I hang up, grab the paper out of my pocket, and dial the number on it. After 4 rings, I hear his voice on the other end. "This is Zach."

"Zach, hey, it's Yazmin from school."

Silence before I hear, "Oh, Carns! What's up?"

I sigh. "I need help with my Algebra homework, and I was told you knew a thing or two. We could work on your paper too."

"Oh, sure. How about in a half hour?"

I give him my address before we hang up. This is going to be one hell of a night.

By the time he arrives, I've set everything up in the living room. I open the door to a bright and happy Zach with his notebook and Algebra book in hand.

"Come in. Thanks for coming, I really appreciate it." And I do. If I got anything less than a C, all hell would break loose. I'd be compared to my fabulous brother in college and never hear the end of it.

I lead him to the table, and he sits down. "No worries, I'm happy to help. I should he thanking you for helping me."

I ask him if he wants a drink, and he replies with, "Just a water is fine with me."

When I return with two bottles of water, I curiously ask him. "Why me, though? I'm no expert. You could have asked anyone."

I sound like such a pick-me-girl, but I'm actually very curious about his thought process.

"Honestly? It would seem like a hookup if I asked anyone else. The boys know nothing, and the girls just try and use me. Makes me uncomfortable."

I nod, understanding. "I get it. No worries. It sucks that you feel uncomfortable, though. No one should have to feel that way."

"It's whatever." He waves his hand, dismissing the discussion. "Anyways, wanna work on Algebra first? I have more time on mine than I bet you do."

I laugh. He's right. "Okay, now what the hell does this even mean?" I show him the equation and we get to work.

By the time he's done explaining, I feel like I just grew a new brain. "Holy shit, I actually understand it now.
For two polynomials to be equal, the corresponding coefficients have to be equal!"

"Yes! That's impressive. I'm glad you understand now."

I finish the rest very easily and begin working on his paper next. "So you should probably pick something you're interested in. It's easier to write a story if you know something about it."

He sits in silence for a while, worrying me that he didn't hear me. Is he okay? But he speaks up, "Promise me you won't tell a soul."

I raise an eyebrow but say, "Cross my heart."

He takes a deep breath. "I want to base it on romance."

"Really?" I'm taken by surprise, but at the same time, guys can be interested in love too. Obviously. "That's so cool! But you're asking the wrong girl. I haven't dated once. Unless you count that kid at band camp, but I don't."

"Oh." He raises both his eyebrows. "Well. No worries, I've only had a couple, but I'm sure we can figure this out, right?"

"Absolutely."

And we do our best. The main character is a guy named West, and the love interest (after a lot of name consideration) is Reina. We get a whole page done before it starts getting late.

Mom and dad will be home in just four hours. And I'm tired as hell anyway. We say our goodbyes, and he leaves, leaving me to get ready for bed and pick out tomorrow's outfit.

I wash my gym clothes, putting them back into my school bag for tomorrow. Friday. I hate the weekends. I hate school sometimes, too, but it beats sitting at home, bored as hell all alone.

I change into my pajamas l, which consists of long bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. Makes me feel less chubby. I lay out a sweater, a pair of pants, and some mismatched socks.

I groan, getting into bed after turning out the light. Resting almost peacefully until they get home.

I'm woken up with a hand on my mouth and my dad's cigarette breath on my face. Disgusting. He removes his hand from my mouth, caressing my body under my shirt.

I'm truly thankful for being underage and him having half-common sense to not go any further. But he always threatens me that when I turn 18, he'll do what he pleases to me.

How can a father think such vulgar things about his own child? I tend to zone out during these sessions, thanks to my ADHD.

"You're so much more beautiful than your mother. You're much thicker, and I bet you're tighter, too."

Gross. I turn my head to look away from him. I can't look into his cold-hearted eyes anymore. He's been doing this since I turned 13.

Mom would never believe me over her own husband. And there's no proof when all he does is just touch me. Lucky bastard.

By the time I come back to Earth, I feel my pants down. I widen my eyes. He wouldn't. His fingers travel down my stomach, taunting me.

I grab his hands and shove him off the bed. No way am I going to let him do anything else. He stands up, clearly angry, ready to fight me.

He grabs my hands, sticking them above my head and holding them down. He smacks my face, leaving a burning and stinging sensation on the side of my face.

I can't help but whimper. He's never hit me before. He sits on my legs, disabling any means of escape. "Fuck you, Yazmin. I always get what I want."

His fingers trail my entrance as I squirm under his body. He enters me harshly, not stopping even when I ask him to as politely as I can. As time goes on, so does this sensation inside of me.

Tears escape my eyes as he continues. Is this . . .

He let's go of my hands, covering my mouth as my hips buck. I moan in pleasure, but as the sensation dies down, realization kicks in. "Look at that, princess. You just had your first orgasm. How was it?"

I say nothing as he just laughs and starts to pull down his pants. I dare not to look, but when he slaps me again and drags me off the bed, I'm face to face with something I never wanted to see.

"If you don't help your dad, I'll tell your mom that her slut of a daughter orgasmed to the thought of her father." Fuck you dude. Fuck you. I'll bite your dick off. "Don't try anything funny, or I'll beat the shit out of you."

I block my mind as it happens. I think back to earlier when Zach and I were laughing and having a good time. I think of Sabrina and how I want her to feel better soon.

I even think of school and escaping this wretched town. I'd rather be homeless than deal with this bullshit.

I gag as a nasty liquid is shoved to the back of my throat. "Swallow it." He demands. I do.

He tells me to shower and go back to bed. I remove the rest of my pajamas, getting in the hottest shower of my life. I sit in there for an hour, scrubbing my body and making myself throw up until that shit is out of me.

I dress back into my pajamas but lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as if it was going to make everything go away.