CHAPTER 2
I weave my way past the crowds, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. I''ve practically memorised the
route to my locker without having to lift my head up once to check my surroundings. Skills, right?
As quick as a sh, a pair of bright trainerse into view and I stop abruptly to avoid crashing into
them.
"Ew, why are you walking like that?" A high pitch voice fills the air causing me to freeze. I nce up
nervously and meet eyes with someone I never thought I''d cross paths with. My eyes widen and I begin
to stutter incoherent words, already backing away.
No way is this happening to me.
I refuse to believe it.
Its no other than Beatrice Walden.
Beatrice Walden doesn''t know the meaning of the word unpopr. Ever since I''ve known her, she''s
always been surrounded by her so called friends. She''s the mean girl, alpha female, ss A bitch of
Heywood High. She''s also one of the highest members of the Popr''s. The social group who walk the
corridors thinking they own the entire school. The people whough, sneer and joke about their less
popr peers.
She reaches up with her hands, running a perfectly manicured nail through her dark locks. Her hair is
always curled to perfection, makeup immactely done alongside it. When she isn''t snarling or teasing
people, some would dare say Beatrice Walden is pretty.
Her glossy lips curl up as she notices me and she lets out a heavy sigh, almost as if I''m the biggest
inconvenience in the world to her right now.
"Can''t you watch where you''re going? It''s not hard, look up!" She says firmly, humour lining her voice.
She res at me from head to toe and I feel myself disappear inside myself. I shrink back against the
wall, too stunned to speak. It feels like my tongue is being held hostage, refusing to let me apologise or
respond to her.
"Hello? I''m talking to you. What are you. . . mute?" Beatrice mocks me, standing with one knee bent as
she res at me to respond. The girls standing on either side of her narrow their eyes at me, sick
smirks on their faces. I can feel the tight hold on my lungs as I struggle to keep myselfposed. My
palms begin to sweat and I can feel my legs trembling under my weight.
"Does she speak English? Hellooo."
A hand is waved in front of my face and all three of them burst intoughter. It fills the air and bounces
off the walls in the corridor and I flinch, my throat tightening until it bes difficult to breathe. I quickly
dodge to the side and force my legs to scurry down the corridor, my head hung low. My cheeks burn
with heat and embarrassment and I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Calm down Be. It''s over now.
The bell rings loudly signalling the start of the school day and I watch as the corridors slowly began to
empty, crowds of students disappearing. I reach my locker and rest my back on it, closing my eyes to
take a second to breathe.
In, out, breathe. In, out, breathe.
Isn''t it weird how something as normal as breathing can suddenly be such a difficult task to do?
The thought of being unable to breathe, your throat tightening further and further until it feels like your
gasping for an ounce of oxygen scares the living crap out of me.
These are the times I wish I had someone who''s always there for me. To help me when I need it and to
have my back against people like Beatrice Walden. Growing up I wished for a twin sibling to keep me
company. The thought of having someone to lean on, talk to,ugh and bond with has my eyes zing
over in fresh tears. Whenever Dad or Jedd question myck of friends I wave it off and act like it
doesn''t phase me. The harsh reality of the situation is that I''m so lonely.
I don''t know how to ovee that.
*****
"ss, please leave your homework on the desk before you leave, thank you." The teacher instructs
before turning back to herptop. Everyone stands from their seats, the chatter in the room rising
quickly. English is finally over and I have PE to get through before the school dayes to an end.
PE is my least favourite subject.
I for one, have the sport skills of a snail.
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I''m uninterested in sports, I''m awkward and I flinch every time a ball heads my way. The majority of my
PE lessons are spent aimlessly day dreaming at the end of the football pitch. Staring up into the sky
and seeing what shapes I can make out of the clouds is literally one of my favourite things to do. I love
how as each minute passes, the clouds would slowly change shape bing something totally
different.
Sometimes I wish I could do the same. . . change myself in a matter of minutes to suddenly be a
popr social girl surrounded with the best of friends.
Maybe fall in love with somebody?
I''m slightly embarrassed to admit that I, Be Winters, have never had a boyfriend in all of my
seventeen years of living. Unless the boy who lived next door to me when I was five counted. He''d held
my hand for almost 1.5 seconds before he realised the dating life just wasn''t for him.
I sigh quietly, noticing the ssroom is empty before I grab my backpack and head for the door.
"Miss Winters?" The teacher stops me and I turn to face her, slightly shocked that she knows my name
without having to check her register.
"Yes?" I reply quietly, keeping my eyes glued to the floor. "Your homework please."
I nod my head and silently take my homework out of my bag before cing it on her desk.
Ipleted it the same day it was handed out.