Author: mellysaurus PM
Rebekah Hardy is the younger, adoptive sister of the famous Hardy Boyz. After a horrific event during the summer sends her into a spiralling crash course of depression, Rebekah tries to live life through high school as a silent outcast. Will she survive the school year and learn to speak again?Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Family - Jeff Hardy & Matt Hardy - Chapters: 18 - Words: 34,824 - Reviews: 49 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 18 - Updated: 05-15-13 - Published: 10-04-12 - id: 8580197
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Yet again, another new story even though I can barely keep up with the ones I've got haha but this is another idea I got in my head and just had to write it up. Read and Review?
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the WWE or TNA or any of the wrestlers. I only own my OC's.
I sit in the passenger side of my older brother's car. Jeff's driving me today. He's only driving me because dad doesn't trust that I would get the bus.
Jeff: I'll pick you up after school okay?
Jeff isn't really my brother, neither is Matt and their dad isn't really my dad. I'm adopted. I was taken away from my alcoholic mother when I was only a year old and put into care. I spent a few years in care homes until I met Jeff. He was with the WWE and came to the hospital I was in to sign casts and things. I told him my story and then less than a month later I was living with him, his dad and his brother. I call Gil my dad. He's as good as in my eyes. He always wanted a little girl and well, here I am. Only, I'm not a little girl any more. I'm one big messed up failure of a teenager.
I look a bit like my brothers. I have black hair that gets too curly if I go to bed with it wet. I have the same greenie-brown eyes and everyone says we laugh the same. If you didn't know that I was adopted, you probably couldn't guess.
Jeff pulls into the parking lot of my high school. He's wearing a cap and sunglasses so he doesn't steal any attention from me. Ha. Like that will work. In 9th grade I made a lot of friends through people knowing that I was the sister of the famous Hardy Boyz. I doubt that any of them will speak to me now. Not after that night.
When Jeff pulls to a stop, I open the door and get out. I wave a slight goodbye and start walking towards hell. That's what I'm going to call it, because that's what it is. I'm in 11th grade now and as I walk through the overly sized doors to the main corridor of school I have to remind myself that I only have two more years left here. Two more years, that's all I have to survive.
Juniors collect their timetables from the gym and there's an overwhelming buzz of people hugging and telling each other that they've missed them. No one hugs me. No one tells me that they've missed me. I shrug it off, I don't really care anyway.
I head towards the gym, dodging in and out of the new seniors and the occasional lost freshman. I walk in and collect my time table. I don't look at it instead I make a beeline for the corridor where my locker is. It's the same place as last year. That's what I like about high school. Once you have your locker, it stays there. A little bit of security in this jungle of a mess.
Once at my locker, I look at my timetable. I have English first with Mrs Scane. I had her in my freshman year and she is horrible. Sighing, I put some of my books that I won't use today into my locker and head off to my first class of the year.
I sit in the middle row right at the end and hope that one of my friends might sit near me but as they file into the classroom they all ignore me and sit down in the front row or the back row. Typical, I want to stand up and scream at them, tell them what happened but instead I bite the inside of my lip and sort out my note book for the lesson.
A girl who I presume is new comes in and takes the only empty seat in the class, the seat next to me; she smiles as she gets out her pens and notebook. I half smile and nod as Mrs Scane stands up and demands the class' attention, a demand that isn't met.
The new girl turns and smiles at me.
New girl: My name's Natalie, I moved here from Charlotte in the summer.
Me: Rebekah, I live in Cameron.
We're doing poetry in English. I like poetry, I like reading it anyway. I don't know about writing it, I've never tried. Mrs Scane has a hat in her hands. She says that there are topics in the hat and everyone has to pick one out of the hat to write their final poems about. She comes around the tables and everyone picks their topic. Many people are moaning and asking to swap. A tall boy, Joshua, who has been in my class since junior school puts his hand up.
Joshua: Miss how am I meant to write a poem about trees?
Mrs Scane: You use your brain Joshua, that's how.
Joshua shuts up. He knows that he just got told by the teacher. Mrs Scane slowly makes her way around to the table Natalie and I are sitting at. She pushes the hat towards me and I put my hand in, there are not many pieces of paper left so I pick one out at random. I unfold the paper and read.
I shrug. I like silence, I practically live my life in it so writing a poem should be easy.
Natalie speaks to me throughout the lesson. All the while earning us both the death glare from my old best friend, Cara, we met in the first year of middle school and clicked instantly. She said that she didn't care who my brothers were, she thought I was cool. Now, she just glares at me. I ignore her and try to pay attention to the lesson. It doesn't work. Mrs Scane has the kind of voice that would send even the most at tentative person to sleep.
English finishes and I go onto my next lesson, French. I like French, it's a beautiful language one time when I visited the WWE, WWE Diva Maryse taught me some French. She spoke it beautifully.
Again, like my last lesson I sit in the middle row. There are a few other people in the class that I recognise from last year but I never really speak to any of them. Madame Baddely teaches French. She's one of only two French teachers in the school. I like her.
As more people start to file in I notice that two of my old friends, Gabby and Ella, walk in. I try to smile at them but they turn their heads. I bite my lip and look back down at my notebook. They sit as far away from me as they could get.
One of the last people to walk in is Natalie. She smiles at me and sits down in the empty seat to my right.
Natalie: I think we're going to have most of our lessons together at least I'll know someone.
I just nod and look out of the window. There's a bird swooping and soaring through the sky. I wonder what it would be like to be a bird, free and happy. At least, I think birds are happy. Why wouldn't they be?
Madame Baddely reckons that she's going to teach the whole in French without speaking a word of English. I don't think it's going to go very well.
At lunch time I head to the lunch hall. I hate the lunch hall, it's filled with cliques and when you don't belong to a certain one, you have to sit on your own and usually food is thrown at you or something equally as awful as that.
I get into the lunch queue. I'm not really hungry but it's better than doing nothing.
I turn and see her waving madly at me. She indicates me to join of her at the back of the queue; I shrug and move out to join her. Like I said, I'm not really hungry anyway.
Natalie: What's good food here? Maybe I should just try a little bit of everything they have to offer. What's the harm?
I shrug. She talks a lot. I think I may have already stated that. Like she said she would, Natalie gets a little bit of everything. I just get a few fries and an apple. We sit down on a non-clique table. Natalie starts eating; she chomps down on her food. She looks up at me and places her hand over her mouth. She swallows her mouthful.
Natalie: Sorry, I don't have very good table manners. So do you live with your parents?
I chewed my lip debating on whether or not to tell her about my heritage and decided I would.
Me: I'm adopted.
Natalie looks shocked for a moment.
Natalie: Oh my, I'm sorry. I didn't even think.
I smile and shrug.
Me: No worries.
Natalie smiles, she seems to like it when I speak. She's the only one. She speaks a little bit about her family. Her parents are divorced and she now lives with her Dad. She has no brothers or sisters. She's lucky.
Natalie: Do you have any brothers or sisters?
Me: Two brothers. They're both a lot older.
Natalie: What are their names?
Me: Jeff and Matt. You'll know them when you see them, they're both professional wrestlers.
Natalie makes an O shape with her mouth but looks blank.
Natalie: I've never watched wrestling before so I probably wouldn't know them.
I smile. She's the first person I've ever spoken to about my brothers that doesn't know who they are. I nibble on a French fry and smile. I think maybe we could be friends.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Wherever I walk in the halls whispers follow me. I block them out. Whispers aren't really worth listening to. Jeff told me that in middle school. He said that if he'd listened to all the whispers about him when he was in high school, he would never have got as far as he has.
Matt's waiting for me in the parking lot. There's a crowd of people nearby. They're whispering. He notices them and waves. A few plastic girls, probably cheerleaders, jump up and down and scream. I roll my eyes at them and feel like yelling about him not being as great as he seems but that would be a lie because my brother, as annoying as he is, is great.
I get into the car and put my belt on. Matt smiles and starts the ignition.
Matt: So how was school?
He starts the short but long drive back into Cameron. Soon I would be in the safety and comfort of my bedroom. I have some homework to do, English, I have to start thinking about what I'm going to write in my poem. I don't really have any clue.
We pull into the drive. Jeff's messing around with his dirt bike again. He's covered in oil. He looks up at me as I walk past.
Jeff: Good day at school?
I ignore him and walk into the house. Dad's in the lounge watching T.V, I decide not to go talk to him and head straight up to my room.
My room looks like it did 6 years ago. I don't have the will power to re-decorate. The walls are covered with WWE posters, signed ones and non-signed ones, I was a big fan once. I wanted to be a wrestler but that's all changed now the main thing I want is peace.
I sling my bag onto the floor and flop onto my bed. I look at the blank white ceiling. It's amazing how interesting blank things can be when you have nothing else to do. I close my eyes.
Day one of hell over and now only 98 days to go until Christmas.