School, Prejudice and Survival

Chapter one, Part one.

Prologue

I stare blankly at the annoying posters on the wall, not knowing or caring what my nameless English teacher is on about. It's not that I hate school, but long hours of nothing fill most of my days. Don't get me wrong, however, its not all that bad. After 10 or something years, you learn new techniques to get you through each day; and different people do different things. But me? Ive been doing the same thing for as long as I can remember. And I love it. Daydreaming is an overlooked form of escape that everybody secretly needs at some point in their lives.                                                                                                 My mind wanders on from the Shakespeare poster, and onto the sound of the door opening. Grateful for the distraction, I turn my head to see Naomi at the door. Our (still nameless) teacher stops talking and turns to face her.                                                                                                                                                                   "Sorry, but may I speak to Indigo for a moment?" she says politely in her slight Italian accent. Our teacher nods and I stand up, glad to escape, thinking what my friend wants.

Chapter one: Summer end

"Indigo!" The sharp sound causes my daydream to shatter around me. Jerking upright, I realize I've been staring absently at the clock for about fifteen minutes. Great. Every eye in the room is now on me. I cant even see most people, but I can feel it. There's my first real wave of 'first day back blues'. 

"Since you seem to already know what we've been talking about, why don't you share with the rest of the class the reason why we use shorter sentences in creative writing?". She stares at me , waiting for my answer - which I already know anyway - and a quiet murmur goes through the class. A few years ago, I would have panicked and worried about the eyes of my classmates on me, but not now. As I said, I've picked up lots of techniques over my time in school, and have recently realized that I can actually apply them in my life. Right now, for example, is a time for one of my favourite teacher-surprising techniques.                                                                                                                                                                     "We use shorter sentences in creative writing to create a sense of surprise, or tension, which is a good way to stop the reader from getting bored. This way, the reader is much more likely to finish your writing through to the end." I say this with a tone of voice that suggests I know exactly what I'm talking about, and was listening to everything she had said. And there you have it! I just proved a teacher wrong. Teachers hate being proved wrong. Which is also apparent from the glazed look on her face as she goes back to her lecture.

The minute she has dismissed us, I walk quickly to the door and lean against the wall outside. I don't particularly like sitting in English class, it is nowhere near being a lesson that I enjoy. Pupils file out after me, some of them saying hi, or asking if I'm okay. I talk to some of them, asking what lesson they have next, and just generally being polite. I don't walk with any of them, however, even those who are close friends of mine.                                                                                                                                                                       I continue to wait for Carly, who is probably my oldest friend. She's sweet and fun and we always have something to talk about - mostly boys or celebrities nowadays, she's in that phase - so even though she's not currently in my main group of friends, I always make time for her.                                                         Carly walks out later than most people, smoothing her light-brown hair and muttering something under her breath that I couldn't quite hear. After a double dose of English, we walk slowly across the school ground to a smaller building where various fifteen and sixteen year-olds are shouting and laughing - obviously getting it out of their systems before an hour of History.                                                   Almost immediately, I spot Naomi and Chrissie leaning against a wall, Naomi gesturing to Chrissie's hair. It's just a matter of bypassing the crowds - and Keiran throwing someone to the floor in a mock fight - until I reach them. They're pretty much the only people I feel like talking to right now, well, apart from Scarlett, so it's lucky we're waiting for History.                                                                                     History and Geography overlap for the year elevens, and most of my friends are elsewhere. I join in on the conversation about Chrissie's hair colour ( and whether she should dye it black) for the few minutes we have before we have to start our lesson.

I suppose now is a good time to explain a little about me and my fairly average life. My name is Indigo Jones, and I am fifteen years old. I live in England (born and raised) in a small town, in an average sized house on a busy street.                                                                                                                                                       I currently attend Oakwood Academy, a highly rated secondary school. Like I mentioned earlier, I don't find school that bad, and I am definitely not one of those people who sit in class and moan about how much they hate school. Those people annoy me. As much as I hate getting up early, I'd rather be in school than sitting at home doing nothing with my life, except watching Youtube videos and chatting with my sister Scarlett. 

Okay, you don't have to believe me if you don't want to, but me and Scar don't act the way you expect sisters to act. Of course, we do fight and have our moments, but most the time she is my best friend and I know she would say the same about me. Before you ask, no we are not completely identical (her hair is light brown and her eyes are dark blue) yet people often tell us that if we had the same hair and eye colours we would be indecipherable.                                                                                                                         We both have hair that is as long as our hips, but Scar's is (as you already know) brunette and mine is a deep reddish ginger.I have wanted shorter hair for a hell of a long time, but I still haven't gotten around to booking an appointment to get it cut. Also, whereas Scarlett has deep blue eyes, mine are a deep green.

As close as we are, me and Scarlett are definitely not the same person at all. It's the golden rule that opposites become friends; Scarlett and I could not be more different. Basic examples include our sense of style, different hobbies and interests.                                                                                                           Scar counts as a classic teenager down to a point. Love of boys, obsessing with social media and celebrity trends, and NOT shutting up about the people she fangirls over. I don't fangirl. I generally do not care about how hot someone is, or which celebrity did what and I don't even have a Facebook account. Skype, sure, but only to talk with people I don't see often. You won't catch me liking a hot male celebrities instagrams. Scarlett has dreams of falling in love and raising a family. Who doesn't? The only difference here is our opinions of priorities. Scarlett needs to be married by the time she is 25. I-myself- need to have a killer career and passport full of stamps. I need adventure. Marriage and kids can wait.

I hope you liked this part :)

The next part explains more about Indigo's life. And I believe chapter two is better than chapter one so far, I have already written half of chapter two.