Date: 23/5, Mon

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  The door to S1G2 suddenly flings open, outer handle colliding hard against the tiled wall with a mighty bang. I look up from my iPad screen to see a blurry figure running in. Ms. Windy, one of my CTs (class teacher) flies in with inhuman speed, accompanied by her high heels clip-clopping the floor. 15 minutes earlier than her daily entrance. S1G2 people -my classmates- focus on her, wondering what the heck is going on. She squeals with the widest grin possible, waving her hands in the air energetically, 'We have a prom in July!'

Voices chatter at once, rising higher and higher. Girls eagerly discuss makeup, hair, dresses, dancing and other prom related things. Boys talk about the girls. Energetic voices rise up even more until I tune them out. Nothing -absolutely nothing- can top the excitement in this primary and secondary co-ed school.

Within seconds, girls are flashing their iPad screens - we have a"One iPad Per Student" school policy- at each other, sharing pictures of their ideal prom dresses. I make my face emotionless. No use expressing myself whenever my known thoughts can be used against me. Prom is probably an end-of-the-year party with music. A summer festival. And I know exactly what dress I want.

Even though keeping my head down and staying silent is second nature, it's a strain to not leap onto tables in giddy fits. A rule I've learnt the hard way: Mind my own business. If not, I get treated worse-even worse than now. (It's a complete nightmare.) So I'm basically getting through day to day. 'High school hell' is both an exaggeration and the most accurate description there is.

Many people gathered around an extremely good-looking brown haired guy go "Lol" or "Oh, Nick." among the largest socialite group at the back. (He befriended the entire Secondary 1 population on day 1.) Being the rare type who's born attractive enough to evaporate hotness without trying, he -Nick Swanspin- could star in YouTube ads. (I'll never skip them.)

Nick gets up from his seat and leaves after laughing with his friends. I dig deep in my pocket in search of an imaginary item, averting my gaze. I clutch my dress -school uniform- tightly as Nick energetically skips past me. 'Hi cutie.' Is he talking to me? I steal a short glance at him, eyeing his face. He's deliberately waiting for a response as usual, amazingly stubborn ever since he came here. I pretend I never heard him -as always- by twisting my head in the opposite direction. He patiently waits while I sit very awkwardly in silence for I-don't-know-how-long before leaving for S1G1. (His homeroom.) Plus he's miraculously nice to me, for some reason. Weird, not that I'm planning to repay the favour.

'Can't you believe that I look fatter than I did months ago?' Eva's voice wails loudly in distress, 'Why do I have to develop hips ? My period hasn't come yet-I don't want to be behind everyone else!' Juicy gossip spills, lies spread, and backbiting often occurs in the toilets-a place of privacy. I can't help talking back in falsetto from inside a stall, 'You know I can hear you, right?' She instantly shuts up. The second girl, XYZ -I recognise her voice- giggles a bit, retorting 'None. Of. Your. Business.' 'Who are you?' Eva asks. I open the door, 'Aloha.' So this is what my voice sounds like. 'Tch, it's you.' Eva's disgust shows on her face. She'd eat her shoes if she knew my family assets. XYZ -transferred here this year- holds in her laughter, 'Wow. Awkward alert. Can you keep secrets?'

'Maybe,' I wash my hands at the sink, not daring to look at my reflection in the mirror (out of habit ), scanning behind me instead. The three of us are the only ones here. 'Maybe? You'd better zip it. Not a word. Otherwise...' Eva flicks her long brunette locks so it cascades down her back in lovely waves, '...you'll find yourself in dire need to change schools.' 'If both of you are nice to me, I won't tell,' desperate for girls to hang out with, I suck in my lower lip, pushing my chin length, side swept bangs out of my face, 'I can use some friends.' Both of them survey my fully exposed face as I brace for backlash from social sacrilege. (The only time I pulled my bangs back was for picture day, and that was for less than 15 seconds.)

XYZ considers me for several long seconds while I square my shoulders. She then holds out her pinky, 'Pinky swear?' 'Are you crazy?' Eva panics, pushing XYZ's hand down, 'No physical contact, remember?' Social sacrilege indeed. 'Either you shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you.' Eva says, not without scorn. 'Is the deal on?' I fumble with words. 'Never!' Eva snaps, grabbing her friend. I shut my mouth. Both of them back out of the toilet. 'What was said in the toilet stays in the toilet!' Eva's voice trails back.

I keep her body-changing fact to myself. And covered up half my face -as usual- for the entire day. Foolish of me to expect to wait for acceptance, I get let down every single time.

I stuff my homework into my bag and leave it on the floor. My bedroom isn't lavish, but apparently nice enough for Aranobrac to gawk at everything the first time she came here years ago. I do my nightly routine by wishing to a star even though I can't see any, hoping to numb the pain. And for my classmates to stop making my life a dark pit of negativity, especially Eva.

Lights out. Leaping out of the queen sized bed, I grab my colour pencils out and start sketching an unoriginal 2D prom dress design. If I concentrate, I can hear coughing noises rising in the dark. And if I listen harder, I'll hear my parent's tv from their bedroom even with the door shut. Guess they're occupied. A dress that's fabulously pink with neither frills nor bows nor shoulder straps. I hold a colour pencil and continue drawing when- Are those faint sounds of someone flipping paper? I listen even harder, it must've been Luke reading. Is everyone in the suite awake? 

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Hi there! Celestia's excited for prom like every girl in high school. Care to vote for the story ? And thanks a bunch for giving my first ever short story a chance. Comments and critiques are welcome! Enjoy! 

Also, "this book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental". 



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