Awake/

    A buzzing noise echoed through the room, and Clover was defiantly not in the mood to wake up, or even get ready for school. She hosted her self off of her stomach in to push up position then flopped back down on to her stomach and slammed her fist on the snooze button, not even caring if she missed the bus.
    She would rather walk a thousand miles then go to the place where they hold students hostage and make them attend hell. School was not her thing. She held far to much creativity to be confined in a place where the nail must be hammered down.
    They even made the students where uniforms. Navy skirts that have to be just above the knee. Not a inch shorter or longer. And navy vests with a white button down shirt underneath.
    You can have a little more excitement with hair though. In the rule book you can have your hair how ever you like as long as its a solid color.
    Clover's hair unlike most kids at her school her hair was a frayed black hair, hiding her natural blond hair. Blond hair is over used. So she never wants to see it again.
     And as long as your entire face isnt "disgraceful" you can have two piercings in. Her eye brow has a ring in it; and spider bites in her bottom lips. She got away with the two lip piercings by making the ring a spiral so it was technically one piercing.
    After three times of hitting the snooze button she looked at the clock. 8:43. She was doomed. She was already almost an hour late. She will no way get there without getting yet another detention. And with one more detention she will get suspended. maybe it wouldnt be so bad if she missed one day of school then.
    Its not  like her mother would even care. The thought of her mother made her feel bitter. Her mother, probably passed out on the couch or in the arms of some man she met at the pub. her fingers clenched. making her nails mar her palms.
    She finally decided to not even go to school. Its not like she's welcome there anyways. She has three close friends, a none of them go to the prissy school. If she lived with her friends, she would not be going to the school. She hardly even considered them friends. They never text her, call her, or even acknowledge her existence when she's with them.
    She brushes her hair, then showers. As she gets out she pulls on a pokemon shirt with Pikachu on a pokeball. It was "oh so totally cute and a must have," she said when she saw it. "I mean. Look at it its a fucking pikachu! how could i not want it!" And with that said it was hers.
    She put some thick rubber bracelets that say "BAD ASS" or "BITCH" on them to hide the fresh cuts on her wrist from only two nights ago. "Its not because i'm depressed," she told her concealer. "Its because i'm lonely, and its either i do this, or i die. And believe me. I would rather have a few scars then be dead." And she was lonely. Her best friend was a teddy bear she named Coco, she won it at a caravel.
    After she put on some jeans, she pulled a hoodie over her head and examined her self. you could tell just by looking at her she would be called "Emo". But she thought she was more then that. She knew that true emo kids, didnt do self harm. But what about the girls who are cheerleaders and harm them self's? Are they "Emo"? No. Everyone worries about them. IF the people who dressed like her who had the same label as her, they would call her a poser. She didnt think of her self as a poser. She just thought that the self harm was part of who she was.
    "Do you think your just looking for attention?" her concealer asked. With that question a spark was lit. An anger that she always kept hidden deep inside. That was the exact same question her friends said. or told her that was what was wrong with her.
    Attention.
    "No." She said her voice strong. "If i wanted attention i would run across the mall, screaming i shit my pants. And trust me, i have done that before. That is how i get attention. Cutting my self i a way to deal with my mom not being around, or my dad walking out on me, after telling me to my face that i was the biggest disappointment he has ever seen. What i do is what makes me feel better. You wont understand, or ever help me unless you people know what its like to be me. You need to understand that what i go through, shoves me in a room with two things, a noose and a chair, or a blade. What would you rather me do? Hurt myself? or kill myself?"
    She didnt even wait for a reply, she just stood up and stormed out of the office.
    After she got ready, drew a thick line of eye liner on, she left. her mother wasnt around. She wasnt in her room, since the door was wide open.
    It was almost winter, she loved the sent of the fall leaves as they gently drift to the ground. She looks up at the slightly cloudy sky. Nothing too amazing around here.
    She wonders around town and finds her self sitting in front of the bus stop. She could go to the park... but there are people there. What ever. Everyone is at school or work. She has nothing to lose.
    The bus smelt like hot dogs, metal, and sweat. She sat on the side of the seat her mind on the other side of the world. Someone sat next to her, she gasp, "Ow!" as something bonked her on the head and he forehead slammed agents the glass window. She whips around.
    "Sorry!" the person said. Clover rubs her head and looks up at dark. Really dark brown eyes. "Seriously i didnt mean to hit you..."  The guy, who almost looks like a girl, blushes.
    Clover shakes her head. "Its fine..." she mumbles. Her eyes trace the out line of a leather guitar case. "You play guitar?"
    "No. Bass." He says. "I guess i should be making the bass apologize..." he grins slightly. "I'm Ash." He extends his free hand, his nails were painted black.
    "Clover," she gingerly shakes his hand. "You're bass have a name?"
    He rises an eye brow like what she said was insane, "Why would i do that?"
    She rolls her eyes. "Are you good a bass?"
    He gives her a a strange look, "Of course." He wondered where she was going with this.
    "Then you should name it."
    "Why?" he ask's feeling very amused. "Why is it that important to you?" he holds back a laughs, since he can sense the seriousness from Clover. His eyes didnt leave the blankness in here eyes. He had the feeling they were hiding something. Something important. Her eye's also frustrated him. He could always see through every wall girls held up. Once he always thought that they were the door that lead straight to the the soul.
    She laugh's, "If you don't get a close and personal relationship with your instrument, the bond will never be complete." she pauses, to think. How else can she prove her point.
    "Well... i just want to play, not make friends with my bass..." he mutters. He still had to restrain from laughing. Clover could see how he was struggling to keep a smirk off of his face. She still continued her poker face with out a fret.
    "You wont ever be able to be good if you just 'play' if you don't name it, you wont be the best. i'm pretty sure even Slash names his tools." He then let out an obnoxious snort, and bursts in to a fit of chuckles. Did she seriously just use the word tool? 
    "You girl, are a riot. How can you do that? Say funny shit like that and keep a straight face?" he continues to laugh and she lightens up a bit, she covers her mouth with her hand and laughs as well, trying to hide her crooked bottom teeth.
    Ash flicks his razored hair out of his eyes.  he decided he should ask an important question, make the mood more serious. "So Clover. You don't look that old. shouldn't you be in school?"
    He grins at her face, she then suddenly felt timid. He must be in his twenty's at least. And come to think of it, was he flirting with her a moment ago?
    "Yeah. I should be in school... but doesn't mean I'm going to be," she then felt like he was watching her every move. Was she flirting back? she never really flirted with anyone before. She has not even the slightest idea.
    He also became aware that should could probably be 14 for all he knew, that would be a five year difference. he mentally cursed himself. He was going to even ask her out to lunch.
    He might as well pop another question. "How old are you?"
    She didn't even skip a beat, "16." Three years. Alrighty. So in two years i could bang her. He grinned. "Why?" she asked. She suddenly felt self cautious that he was gazing at her like she was something to eat.
    "Oh... nothing i was just wondering since i helped you kill some brain cells, if you wanted to grab something to eat?"
    She felt her face warm up. was he asking her out on a date? her heart beat picked up speed. if she says no, he could still kid nap her if he wanted too. But why would he want her? 'he if he wanted to rape me he would have to put a paper bag over me head.' she said to her self.
    "Its only ten." she says, hoping she could doge this with ease.
    "Brunch." he says simply, he grinned as he could see on her expression that she was thinking "shit... now what?"
    "I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her. "Trust me, i have more class."
    "Yes, that is something a kidnapper would say just before he would kidnap someone," she states.
    He felt a bubble of annoyance. She over thinks things. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, she stands, "This is my stop." He gets out of her way. He ponders on the subject for a moment. and he gazes as she gets off.
    As she quickly walks down the road, adrenalin pumping though her veins. A moment later she is getting whipped around. "Please? just brunch?" Ash says.