Status: Writing.
Don't you recognize my face?
Chapter 3
In our tutor there’s about ten of us, fifteen nerds and some messers. Messers are the people who permanently get into trouble and aren’t very cool at all. I take my seat at the back, next to Sian. She passes me some chewing gum and I pop it into my mouth, smiling at her. Passing chewing gum at our school is like a drug deal, seriously, our tutor is like a hawk.
The nerds come tumbling in and take the seats in the middle. The nerds are smart, but some of them cause a bit of trouble and they all like the same emo-ish music. About three of them used to be my friends. They sit down with their backs to us, laughing at us when we say that we’re going to put fake tan on tonight. I walk up to the emos with Sian. I stand right in their face, and say really loudly; “if you have a problem, go back to your coffin.”
They laugh loudly, smirking and nudging each other. I see one at the back, one of my old friends who is obsessed with some stupid band. Her hair is long, way past her waist and she’s close to tears. I nod, and just walk of, being plastic means we only cry over precious stuff.
Flipping my hair over my shoulder, checking my fringe and walking over to Sian, I hear sounds from the people we just left. Swivelling my head I see that the girl is crying, tears spilling freely over her face, and her friends’ shoulders. I hate it when we do that, but they shouldn’t be wimps, I left them ages ago.
I remember when I started to hang out with them, I was into all their favourite music and I’d volunteer to pair up with them in P.E and all that. Standing up as miss comes into class, the girl wipes her eyes and puts on a brave face, obviously not wanting to snitch about me. Good. Miss starts blabbing on about our assembly, and then I hear my name. I sit down, realizing I’ve been standing up and then look at Sian. She’s got her bag up, and is starting to walk out the door.
I follow her, seeing as I’ve got my name called out. Once we hear the door slam, I ask her “Where are we going? What for?”Urgently. “We’re going to Mr Jenkins, for truanting.”
I nod, I remember. We went to the capital, shopping on a Friday. Damn. Truanting card. Following her, we step into the teacher’s classroom. Since he’s also an R.E teacher, it’s decorated with pictures on mediation and that. I smirk, he’s a softy really. Walking up, he lectures us about the card, getting it signed and all that.
I nod and just grab the card, folding it up unevenly. I’m sick of these things. I always get late marks, which means more cards. I swear this school is trying to ruin my life. My mother is going to flip. Oh well.
The nerds come tumbling in and take the seats in the middle. The nerds are smart, but some of them cause a bit of trouble and they all like the same emo-ish music. About three of them used to be my friends. They sit down with their backs to us, laughing at us when we say that we’re going to put fake tan on tonight. I walk up to the emos with Sian. I stand right in their face, and say really loudly; “if you have a problem, go back to your coffin.”
They laugh loudly, smirking and nudging each other. I see one at the back, one of my old friends who is obsessed with some stupid band. Her hair is long, way past her waist and she’s close to tears. I nod, and just walk of, being plastic means we only cry over precious stuff.
Flipping my hair over my shoulder, checking my fringe and walking over to Sian, I hear sounds from the people we just left. Swivelling my head I see that the girl is crying, tears spilling freely over her face, and her friends’ shoulders. I hate it when we do that, but they shouldn’t be wimps, I left them ages ago.
I remember when I started to hang out with them, I was into all their favourite music and I’d volunteer to pair up with them in P.E and all that. Standing up as miss comes into class, the girl wipes her eyes and puts on a brave face, obviously not wanting to snitch about me. Good. Miss starts blabbing on about our assembly, and then I hear my name. I sit down, realizing I’ve been standing up and then look at Sian. She’s got her bag up, and is starting to walk out the door.
I follow her, seeing as I’ve got my name called out. Once we hear the door slam, I ask her “Where are we going? What for?”Urgently. “We’re going to Mr Jenkins, for truanting.”
I nod, I remember. We went to the capital, shopping on a Friday. Damn. Truanting card. Following her, we step into the teacher’s classroom. Since he’s also an R.E teacher, it’s decorated with pictures on mediation and that. I smirk, he’s a softy really. Walking up, he lectures us about the card, getting it signed and all that.
I nod and just grab the card, folding it up unevenly. I’m sick of these things. I always get late marks, which means more cards. I swear this school is trying to ruin my life. My mother is going to flip. Oh well.