As I walked in the door, I saw my best friend Raven standing there with blood running down her arm. “I didn’t mean to…..it was an accident.”
She cut herself with a knife. I know she has a fascination with sharp things, I should have taken that into consideration before I left. “Go wash your arm.” Raven’s gothic, but she’s nice to everyone who returns the favor. She’s changed a lot. She was an irritable teen because her father beat her and her mother always picked on her.
I moved here 3 years ago, in 9th grade. I noticed her right away, because most of the kids were either preppy or guido. I’m like her, I guess that’s why we’re friends. I met her in lunch. “Can I sit here?” I asked nicely. “No else is gonna sit there, so I don’t care.” “My name’s Demetria. What’s your name?” “Raven.” “That’s a nice name. You seem really cool.” “No one thinks I’m cool.” “I’m not like them, if you haven’t noticed.” “I have noticed.” “Wanna hang out?” “Sure, I have no other friends.” That’s how our whole friendship started.