isabel (h.s.)

2.

I sat alone at lunch. So did another girl though, I thought I'd go and sit with her but she glared at me as I looked towards her so I thought better of it. She was pretty, with dark brown hair and clear, tanned skin, but it was bunched up into a frown as she stabbed her plastic plate with a stainless steel fork and ignored the chatter around her. I sat on a tall chair at the side of the dining hall, facing away from people as I looked out of the window. It was a hell of a lot darker here, all concrete and grey skies and I hated to say it, but I missed home.

Home was never a great place. Mum and dad used to scream at each other intensely and there was never peace in the house, my brother locking himself in his bedroom with the electric guitar bought for his birthday and my elder sister sneaking out of my window, hers was too high. When mother had moved up here we had no choice but to go with, despite our entire lives being disrupted, all so mum could get back at dad for divorcing her. I don't know why they divorced, they'd always screamed at each other. Jessica's first words had been "shuddup" and I'd learned to shake my fist before I'd learned to crawl. But I'd left my friends, my father and my beloved-not-so-beloved hometown behind. It stung.

I concentrated on my pasta, realising that memories from home held the emotional surge I needed to cry in school on my first day. I bit my lip, determined for that not to happen.
"Hey?" A monotone voice questioned behind me. It was glaring girl. I raised my eyebrows, motioning for her to continue. She sighed, obviously not great at making effort to talk. "Can I sit?" she said, not convincing me that she wanted to.
"Well- yeah, I mean, yeah, sure." I answered, practically choking on my pasta. She raised her eyebrows as she struggled to hide a smirk. I laughed and she sat down.
"April." She stated, biting down on her own pizza.
"Isabel." I shot back, smiling at her.
"I know, you're in my English."
"I am?"
"I just said that you were."
"Sorry." I blushed.
"Don't apologise," she said, wrapping a piece of cheese that refused to come with the rest of the pizza around her finger.
"Sorry." I said. But this time I smiled.