A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

Becoming Ronnie: 7.

“Right then!” Sophie said cheerfully, interrupting us. “I’ll let you two get on to class. I’m sure with each-other’s help you can find it.”

“Thank you,” I replied, “but there is really no need. I know this place already.”

“I’m sure you did have a tour, yes, but I think it is polite to show Dylan around, too, he didn’t have a tour.”

I resisted rolling my eyes, something Demi did all the time. I gritted my teeth together before mustering up a fake smile. “Fine! Dylan – follow me.”

“I have a feeling you don’t want to show me around…”

I sighed, part of me did want to just go to class. After all, I was a senior. I’d been at this school for four years. Why did I have to show the new kid round? He seemed like someone who enjoyed his own amusement.

“It’s not that…” I said reluctantly. “I just want to get to class.”

“Oh, what class do you have first?” He asked, looking at his timetable in his hand.

“Math.” I responded immediately, already know of the top of my head.

“Wow. You must have a photographic memory.”

“No. I’ve just been at this school for a long time. What year are you going into?”

“Senior and I have math too.”

“Cool.”

“Are you really new?”

“No.”

“You didn’t seem like it.”

“I’ve been going here for the past four years.”

“How come the woman back there didn’t know?” He asked.

“I’ve… transformed.”  I said at the same moment that I walked past Poppy, who thankfully didn’t notice me. She was too busy pinning a freshmen up against the lockers. The poor boy looked petrified. Dylan seemed to notice what I was looking at because he spoke.

“Sometimes, people don’t think about the future. In school no one thinks about the future, why would they? But the way high school works, they should think about that. They’re maybe a kid that, when they’re being bullied, has no friends, who, in the end, might grow up to have everything they ever wanted. There may be a girl who is exhausted from sleep because she had to make sure her best-friend doesn’t do anything stupid. There may be a kid who lives out on the street, because his parents kicked him out and locked the door.  I shouldn’t judge, and I’m not going to judge you just by being a cheerleader. Everyone’s got a story to tell – you and I included.”

“I’m not going to be a cheerleader.”

“Really?” He asked; amusement in his voice. “But I thought that girl–”

“She’s my sister; and the head cheerleader. She’s just trying to help, but she’s not. I’m not going to be a cheerleader.”

“Well, be what you want; and what you will.”

“I will.”

“What do you have after Math?”

“Biology,” I said quickly.

“Um… same.”

“Really?” I asked, grabbing his timetable.

My sister had French, then, instead. I scanned quickly over the list, frowning as I realised every class I had, Dylan was in it; apart from Art.