Then there’s me. I have dark brown hair with a thick side fringe. I’ve been growing it since I was ten years old when my mum decided to cut it up to my shoulders. Now, its half way down my back. Perfect for flicking around when I do street dance. Jenna thinks I’m pretty but the other girls don’t seem to think so. I’m shy, really shy. I never put my hand up in class. I just get on with my work. That’s why I’m such a “boffin”. Because I listen and concentrate in class, unlike some of the other girls. I’m quite tall and slim and I live for dance. It’s the only thing I really enjoy. Where I can pretend I am someone I’m not. Forget who I really am. It’s easy to hide behind a mask when I dance because you’re telling a story. You have to play the character of the dance. After practicing a dance everyday it’s very easy to stay in that character.
Jenna and I hate school. We’ve always had a rough time. We both just want to finish school, go to college and university and become successful dancers. It’s been my dream ever since I started dance school. We made a plan that we would get great jobs, buy a flat and live together, happily without the need for boyfriends. Well that’s the plan. Don’t know how likely it will be if we succeed.
As we get to the school gates I take my headphones back, put them in my bag and prepare myself for the random insults thrown our way. Freak, boffin, know it all, weirdo. I take a deep breath and we walk into school. The popular girls are flicking their perfectly highlighted hair, touching up their makeup and flirting with the popular boys. Chantelle is there, the leader of all the girls. The ring leader, that is. They all look up to her like she is some sort of goddess, so do the boys I suppose. My theory is that because Danny asked Jenna out that Chantelle has always been slightly jealous of Jenna. I don’t know if it’s right. Maybe Chantelle has always been a stuck up cow, I don’t know. Maybe.
As we walk across the field they flick their perfect blonde hair round to stare in our direction, laughing, pointing and whispering. I’ve learnt to ignore this, you have to look ahead, keep talking as if you couldn’t care less. We just keep chatting to each other as we walk across the endless field to out lockers. Thank god that our lockers are next to each other. I open my locker and take out all my neat and tidy books for today’s lessons. The bell rings and suddenly a crush of people swarm the corridors. Like the rest of school, popular people get to go first. Followed by their friends and boyfriends, followed by normal people, then followed by us. The freaks. It’s like a secret law or something. It just works that way weather you like it or not. We head to our first lesson, maths, great.
