This is a fan-fiction I've been working on based on the band Shinedown. I do not own or affiliate with the band or others involved. Any songs, names are property of respective owners. I only take credit for original characters Sara Rose Lockwood, Karla and Melinda, and the art teacher (thus far) Though based off real people, I have changed names and appearances slightly. Otherwise, I do not take credit for anything else. Please read and I hope you enjoy ^.^ If you do, I might be inspired to write more seeing as I have finally hit writer's block.
Chapter One- A Fresh Start
Emerald High was one of three private high schools in the Denver area, but the furthest from the city. If you've seen medieval castles from Europe, you would have a very good idea to what the outside of the school looked like, but on a smaller scale with no crazy hundred foot towers. The stone walls were covered in vines, flowery moss, in some places it crumbled into pebbles. Other places were worn smooth by the winds and rains. But step inside and you would be in a very different world. Everything was clean and modern. Florescent lights hung from the ceilings, giving off a low buzzing sound. The windows were shatter and bullet proof for the safety of everyone. There was internet, cable, and even plumbling in this very deceptive place. The only thing that remained untouched by time seemed to be the marbled floors, coated with fresh wax, and the stained glass windows in the front foyer.

         It was located miles out of town near the mountains. But despite its slightly unpleasant location, the relaxed atmosphere, best level of education, and not having to wear a silly uniform made it very popular. And for the elite students, or the richest, it even boasted dormitories, which unlike the school, were what you would see in a pamphlet. Straight lines, modern, sophisticated, all in all, boring. But, for the students who could afford the small luxury, it saved them the hour drive to and from school every day. Especially in the harsh winters.

        One such student was Sara Rose Lockwood. She was far from rich, popular, or what society would even call beautiful. The only reason she was able to attend was because she was always top in her class with straight A's. And the trust fund her parents left her with was more than enough. But, Sara always believed in working hard. She used what she needed to pay her way into school and a reliable enough vehicle so she could work to pay for anything else.

        As mentioned before, Sara was rather plain in her looks. She wasn't tall or skinny with the perfect tan, hair and nails. She was rather the opposite. Her hair, naturally blonde, was dyed black, and on certain occasions she would don a little color. This years look? A three inch streak dyed a vibrant pink that fell to the right side of her face. Her hair fell to the lower part of her back, and the curls she ended up getting when keeping it long were rather unruly and stuck out everywhere. Her skin was pale with a few freckles on her arms and cheeks, and it was hardly blemish free. She stood around 5'4", if you included the sneakers. And weighing around 205 pounds, it wasn't that she was a slob. But her high intake of caffeine and living regularly off fast food didn't let her keep a girly figure very easily.

        This morning, she stood in the middle of her bedroom, tripping over a pair of pants as she yanked them on. Digging through her hamper of clothes, she found a long sleeved thermal with one of her favorite band logos plastered to the front. Pulling it over her head and shoving her arms through the sleeves, she proceeded to neatly stack her books and folders into her bag.

        "There," she said, satisfied after zipping it closed. "Now to grab some coffee and breakfast," she muttered, combing her hair with her fingers before pulling it all up on top of her head into a messy bun. With her bag packed, mug of coffee in one hand, and a half eaten granola bar sticking out of her mouth, she locked the door behind her and set off towards the school.

        It was a cool morning. Dew collected on the leaves and branches of the trees and bushes that lined the pathway leading to the school. The sun was barely over the horizon, so a hazy fog still lingered on the grounds, swirling in lazy patterns as a gentle breeze blew in. Sara smiled, running her fingers through the fog, enjoying the strange tickling sensation it gave her when she did.

        As she made her way up the stairs to the front door of the school, she heard a bunch of giggles from some young girls to the left, huddled in a close circle. They were new, obviously. Anyone who had been here before knew better than to wear high heels and mini skirts. But, unlike Sara, they would make friends quickly. They belonged to the rich groups that populated a majority of the place. Sara could only roll her eyes as she walked by them and inside. She had to just remind herself this was her last year.

        When she graduated, she would be off travelling the world. It had been her dream for as long as she could remember to be a famous photographer. Whether it be magazines, book publishers, she didn't care. She would have her pictures plastered all over the world. The thought of opening a travel magazine and seeing a picture she took on a page excited her!

        She was too engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't even see the young man who was standing in the middle of the foyer, squinting down at a piece of paper in his hands. THUD! She ran into him, dropping her arm full of books on the tiled floor, and some of her coffee splashed out of her mug and landed on her arm, burning her. She gave a small painful yelp at the sudden heat, but then she looked down at her feet, and even several feet away. The books had scattered around them with a loud echoing. Sara shook her head and knelt down to pick up the books so she could head to her locker.

        But the man she ran into decided to help out, and the next thing she knew, their heads were colliding with a loud and sickening crack! Sara lost her balance and fell backwards, landing on her butt with an oomph! Groaning, she rubbed her forehead where she hit her head, feeling a bump forming already. That would certainly put a damper on her day.

        "You know if you wouldn't be standing in the middle of the place-" she began, pausing to look up at whoever it was she ran into. When she did, she felt color rise to her cheeks, and she sat there frozen for a moment.

        He was attractive, compared to most other guys in school. He was of average height for a guy, around 5'9" was her best guess. He had dark blue eyes that seemed kind, but also had that crazy wild twinkle in them. His shoulder length brown hair was pulled back into a low pony tail, a few strands had fallen loose and fell around his face as he looked down at her.  He wasn't necessarily muscular, but he did look well toned, if not for what looked like a few lingering pounds around his torso.

        And he wore rather plain clothes. His jeans were a little baggy with small holes in the knees, held up with a belt. He was wearing a plain grey shirt, the seams and threads seeming a little worn and faded. Over the shirt he wore a denim vest that had seen better days. It appeared he had stitched a lot of patches that had various designs, but as far as Sara could tell, a lot of them were of bands, and it seemed these patches were the only thing holding the article of clothing together.

        "Sorry, I was just trying to figure out where to go," he muttered, offering one hand to help her up, the other rubbing his head as well.

        Growling, she pushed herself up on her feet, pushing his hand aside. "Well, next time, stay out of the way," she said with a bitter note to her voice, picking up her books as quickly as possible and stalking off through the empty halls to her class.

        The young man stood there a little puzzled. What the hell did he do to deserve that? Shrugging, he looked back down at the paper. Creative Arts was his first class. He walked across the foyer to the main office and asked one of the ladies where he should go. Once he had directions, he took his time to find his locker since there was still plenty of time left before the first bell even rang.

     

           "Dammit!" he yelled, walking as fast as he possibly could to class. He had stopped at his locker before heading to class, and ended up in a very heated conversation with the guy next to him. In doing so, he lost track of time and was now running late, the second bell had already rang minutes ago, and there was still two flights of stairs to go.

        He burst through the room, tripping over his feet and trying to catch his breath. His cheeks were red as he stood in the door way looking at the other students who were listening to the teacher, but now were staring at him. Just what he needed. He was already a new guy not just to this school, but the city as well. He hated drawing even more attention to himself than needed. then he looked over at the teacher with an apologetic smile, who just rolled his eyes and waved him in.

        The teacher was sort of intimidating, especially if you hadn't known him long. He looked like a rather typical biker sort of guy. He wore a leather vest with a metal pin boasting Harley Davidson pinned to the front pocket. Under that he wore a white shirt, blue jeans, and leather boots with various buckles. He was tall, well over six feet if one had to guess. The only hair he had was the pair of bushy white brows over blue eyes and a well kept goatee. His skin was slightly tanned, probably from summer days of riding his bike, so it seemed weathered and leathery. But he didn't look to be much older than forty and well fit for a man of his age.

        "Class, this is Brent. He's new here and just transferred from Tennessee. I do expect you to show him some decency and help him out until he's comfortable," the teacher said, pointing Brent to his desk. "Now, if you'd go take your seat next to Sara over there, I can get this introduction over quickly and get us all started!"

        Now, if any of you can remember, most classrooms weren't very big. There was room for about thirty students, decks, some shelves or carts, the teacher and their desk, with walking room. Creative Arts though, was different. Since the entire hour was dedicated to various forms of art, the room was enormous!

        There was about twenty students here, but each had a large drawing desk they could work on. Two additional teachers were in the class to help. All the shelves and walls were lined with sculptures made from clay or metal, canvas portraits ranging from ink to charcoal, to water color and oil paintings. Even the window sills were lined with this and that from previous students. And in one corner, a large stereo sat on a desk playing some oldies music.

        Brent slid into his seat, and turned slightly to look at Sara who was staring over at the teacher, listening. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to-" he began in a hushed whisper, but was cut off before he could finish.

       "I don't care," she said, glaring at him with a sideways glance. "But, since it seems I'm going to be stuck with you, Brent, I want you to know something. I will help you, but that doesn't mean I like you." She had said his name with such bitterness, it was like the very word was poison to her. And, it was also the tone of voice that told him there was no chance they would be friends.

        Well, for having a new place to start fresh, you're making such a great impression already, he thought to himself, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the teacher.