Y/N was just a normal 11 year old at St Bernadette School. It is her first day after moving from America and she does admit, she has a little crush on her enimy/friend Matt but she has always tried to brush it off. Y/N has always had a little burni...
I threw on my royal blue jumper over my shirt as I quickly grabbed my bag. I glanced up to the clock on my bedroom wall that hung neatly above my door.
8:30!!!
I thought I had way more time than that! I ran down the wooden stairs of my house leading into the kitchen.
"Y/N! Seriously? We are going to be late again!" She said giving me a disapproving look.
"Sorry mum," I replied, a little dejected after my mum's comment. I put a piece of bread into the toaster and pulled the leaver down. While I was waiting I ran into the living room, my socks sliding on the marble floors almost causing me to fall over. I grabbed my pencil case along with my Maths, English, Science and R.E book (if you didn't know, R.E stands for religious education) and shoved them into my rucksack sipping it up all the way.
I stood there for a moment. I felt like I was missing something. I pondered on this thought until I smelt something. The smell of burning.
"Wha-!" I yelled as I skidded back to the kitchen to see the toaster smoking.
I had forgotten to take the bread out!! Great just great! It popped up as I grabbed a nearby plate. Carefully, I grabbed the toast with the tips of my fingers, trying my best to not burn myself as I dropped the charred bread onto the plate. Honestly, it surprised me that it didn't spill any ashes on my plate.
I stared at it for a second....
"Well I guess I'm having burnt toast for breakfast," I said to myself as I grabbed some butter and a knife and spread some on it. At that moment, I heard a honk from outside.
"Y/N get in the car! We are going!" My mum yelled. I hurriedly put my shiny black shoes on, flung my bag over my shoulder and walked out, grabbing the charred bread as I did so.
I slipped on my white coat. It was starting to get colder here as I also put on a pair of fuzzy earmuffs.
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It didn't like it but my mother called "vintage" and I just don't argue with her. We live in a big house in one of the nicer neighbourhoods. My father is an artist and my mother, a famous musician. We were pretty wealthy as both of my parents are moderately successful. I had been homeschooled by a tutor most of my life and only now my parents decided it would be best for me to go to a real school.
Something to do with my social skills and me reading too much.
Our car drove up into the school gates, I noticed that I was getting some weird looks from some of the children and parents. I opened the door and stepped out observing the school. It seemed pretty basic to me. Most of the classes had settled down but mum and I had to see the headmistress, Mrs Bevan. The windows seemed to have Christmas decorations on them. I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach as glanced over to the windows and saw a lot of children staring at me. One boy, in particular, caught my eye. He had spikey hair and looked quite tall for his age. He was looking at me with his mouth slightly agape but quickly snapped it back shut when he realised I was looking at him.
