zombie carrot juice

page 2 :)

"a skiing trip before the start of school, bobby?" may dad had enthused all those months ago when we were still back in the states, and the England move seemed like a foggy half idea that was happening to someone else. ''perfect! what better chance for you to get to know your new classmates!''

''you can impress them all on the slopes!'' my mum had chimed in, ever-so-helpfully.

yep so that was settled, then.

what my parents had failed to figure was that Scotland was hardly aspen. and that trying to make new friends by showing off my souped up skiing skills would be the best way to get my butt kicked. bum not butt!! butt marks me out as different, like sidewalks, cell phone and soccer. when we moved to the states six years ago, they thought i sounded as British as the queen. now I'm back at the motherland again, I'm like some hybrid, a freak with an ever changing accent.

i need to learn my own language.and fast. ive had enough of the snickering, the eye rolling and people throwing hard snowballs when my back is turned. American high schools can be brutal but the British version is just as cruel.every meal at the ski resort had been torture, looking for space at a table, hoping for just one friendly face. praying that Mr smith and ms fawcett didn't beckon me over to eat with them again, knowing that it would be social suicide to be marked as a teachers pet.

but the horror is nearly over. that thought has kept me going for the last 24 hours. just the journey back to school to endure.

everyone troops off into the cheery chomper cafe for lunch, but I'm staying right here. Ive prepared, i had squirrelled away a quickly made peanut butter sandwich at breakfast. as i hid it in my bag with an apple, that reality star skank wannabe Alice hicks caught my eye and one of her minions started singing ''its peanut butter jelly time''. whatever. stupid girls with their pastel coloured ski wear and pink glitter nail polish. this lunchtime they ll have to find someone else to throw their fries at.

gah! chips not fries.

my appetite is zero, but that's hardly the problem. truth is, Ive been dying to pee ever since we set off...but only a fool would use the bathroom on board. Pete Moore made a stink on the trip up, and they gave him hell about it for 2 hours straight.how could he have been such a goob? you'd think he'd have enough to worry about already with that whole class geek extraordinaire thing he has going on. they call him albino boy on account of his white hair and see through skin, which is probably borderline racist by some peoples standards.

he smiled at me once, early on, but it was the kind of smile that someone gives when they recognise an easy target. he'll soon learn im not going to put myself in harms way to save his cling film ass. and if that means crossing my legs for the next few hours then so be it.