Caught In The Moment

eight - back 2 school equals detention horrors

"Hello."

"Hi, could I please speak to Megan." The women on the other end of the phone said quite professionally.

"You are speaking to Megan." I tried to say as cheerfully as I could. I am not in the mood to talk to some complete stranger. It is most likely a scam to check the computer. I want to start yelling, "I know you're a scam.,Good day. And don't forget to lose the fake English accent!" And then laugh until I can't breathe. But I have to wait for her response.

"We'll that's nice. How are you Megan?"

"Just peachy." I try imitating her new ring to her voice which makes it sound more bubbly and teenage like.

"Well, there has been a slight change in schedule. School will be commencing tomorrow. We have been informed that the storm has passed and already students have had over a week off school." Her voice is back to being professional.

"I understand."

"So please be aware to dress appropriately in case of any misjudgements from the weather bureau. They always get something wrong, don't they?" She starts to giggle as if she is my best friend. If I had one. That is.

"Cool." I can't hold back the sarcasm in my voice and cough afterwards to ease the silence.

She hangs up first and I don't mind. What I am annoyed about is the fact school is going back. I've only had 6 days off of school. The storm only really lasted 2 days but I'm sure it would have caused some damage and for some to relocate. I saw on the news that a couple of families in the more rural areas got struck badly.

I huff before walking into my room and organising my backpack for tomorrow.

* * *

The hallway is busy, shuffling bodies only centimetres away from touching me. I make my way through the crowd with my head hung low and my backpack latched to my back. They don't seem to notice me as I cruise thought the hall. I wouldn't expect them to.

Everyone looks the same - dull expressions painted on their faces. I'm sure they don't want to be here. I know I would rather be lounging around at home. Except my plans were to make friends and did that happen? No. That must be the thousandth time by now.

I squeeze past everyone until I reach my first class. The door is slightly ajar and I open it and go into the class. I am just early like always, there is only a couple of other leftovers sitting in their seats, tapping their pens, shifting in their seats. Now I understand why people don't want to be friends with me. Especially if I'm as bad as them. Which I think I'm worse.

I take my usual seat, in the third row on the far left side where the window is. I like to watch the leaves change colour throughout the year and the birds that come by and perch onto the branches. I like to sketch little things like that. While at the same time doing my work. When the teacher asks if I'm doing my work I just nod and hide the drawing under the huge history book.

The bells sounds and as usual everyone piles into the class. The jocks. The cheerleaders. The math geeks. The posh girls. The odd others. The different way people walk, talk and act depend on the title they have been given. And because of these titles everyone is judgemental towards others. Because of these titles I am the way I am. I am a leftover. I have no friends. I hang my head low. I walk fast to avoid eye contact.

But I guess this is just the way that life goes. Some people call it - 'the way the cookie crumbles.' I agree. But why can't the cookie just not crumble? Then everything would be good. Perfect. 'And life isn't meant to be perfect. It is meant to have its down falls.' That's what other people say. I just wish I could ignore them and think the way I want to, but I always take their hurtful remarks to heart.