I'm not like other girls. I love books, indie music, and a whole other host of weird stuff. No wonder I don't have any friends. Yet as I walk through the corridors of East High on my first day, I feel like I need them. All the groups stare at me, and snigger as I walk by. They're all clad in spaghetti-strapped tank tops, mini skirts, and of course Ugg boots. As for me? I'm buried in my hoodie and baggy jeans, hoping to stay invisible.
Clearly, that's not going to happen.
When I sit down in my form room, I make sure it's in a seat at the front, with no one sitting around it. I don't think I'll ever fit in, so what's the point trying? I get out my old battered copy of 'Wuthering Heights', and start to read as my indie artists yell at me from my earphones.
The teacher eventually comes in, and whacks his folders onto the wizened table. "Welcome to high school! I'm sure you're going to have a great year and—" A knock at the door interrupts him. "Come in!"
The mutters that had been dotted around the room whilst the teacher had been talking now have stopped. There in doorway stands the most beautiful boy that ever lived. I swear on me mam's grave. Blue orbs the shade of a summer night, blonde hair that could have been woven by the sun itself, skin that must've spent months in a tropical paradise...
I was swooning. I didn't want to swoon. I'm just a weird girl, and he's just gorgeous. So I carry on indulging in my book, as the teacher gestures for him to take a seat. A collective sigh goes around the room as the chair next to me creaks. Oh my god. I can't believe it. Out of all the seats in the room, he sat next to the freak.
All the other students started muttering, concocting plans to initiate the boy into their friendship groups. He doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he leans closer to me. "I love that book."
"Me too," I smiled, letting him lean closer to me to read it. He smelled like the ocean, and I smelt like Tesco Value deodorant. God, why am I such a weirdo?
Now form has ended, I analyse my schedule, to try and figure out where I was going to class. The boy chuckles. "We have identical schedules." He slides his crumpled schedule out of his pocket, and proceeds to show me. "I guess we'll be sticking together, huh?"
My cheeks turn bright red. I furiously rub my cheeks, hoping that the boy didn't notice. I read his name off of his schedule. "Ryder, that sounds good." Ryder Wilson. His name is beautiful.
We agree to meet by the water fountain before class, as our lockers are miles away from each other. Now I have finished gathering my books, I'm leaning against the wall. Little to my surprise, a group of girls came up to me. They are the cheerleaders. I know that they are about to sneer at me. Their red lips are pouting, their foreheads are pulsating. They want Ryder. Just like everybody else.
Including me.
"You could be, like, so pretty, if you put on a bit of makeup," one of them smiled, twirling a strand of blonde hair.
I smile at them wryly. "I'm not like you, don't you see? I'm a weirdo."
"We'll give you a makeover. Make you presentable to be on Ryder's arm. Deal?" The cheerleaders grin at me.
They do have a point. I'm too weird for Ryder, and as much as I'd love to be with him, he'd never give me a second glance. Chances are he's completely forgotten about our water fountain arrangement. So suddenly, something clicks in me. Maybe the emotional side of puberty. Maybe God is sending down some hormones. Whatever it is, I nod. "Sure."
I want to be like other girls.
ns 15.158.61.13da2
