One. Two. Three.

My average, but hated, self

See, I had never been the popular one... Let me rephrase that, never been the liked one. And it had impacted my mood swings, friend-making skills and well... Everything about my loving, funny personality went down the drain. I never thought of myself as an over the top sweet person until I found myself being bitter and grumpy.
     So, let's start on the first day of school grade, no matter how much you hope and plead, you will never get a clean slate. People never forgive nor do they forget. Sorry to break it to you, change you hair, change your clothes, your whole personality. It doesn't matter. So happy old me walks into the school with a big grin, excited for a new start. It only lasted a few minutes. After I had gotten my schedule and headed to the 1400 wing I met up with my locker and was greeted by glares and "ugh"s. My grin was slapped off my face and thank goodness my locker was in the corner because I  turned away from them and opened my locker to set up my shelf and put away my bag. The first bell wrung and I took out my binder looking at my schedule, I headed towards the stairs, knowing my first period math was in the 2500 wing. Expectantly, I got grazed over, or disapproving looks from seventh and eighth graders, thankfully it was more of the former. I was somewhat average looking. On the shorter side, olive skin, round face and nose, thick eyebrows, bright eyes, golden brown hair and light brown eyes not quite light enough to call hazel. That and I had  surprisingly, defined curves for a sixth grader. Why I was chosen as everyone's target, the world will never know. My math teacher, Mr. Colmen, was very tall and loud (not to be mistaken as yelling, just very loud) and had the emotions of a brick wall. Other than my later developed crush, and crush-ing ( on me if you couldn't tell) bully, it was a pretty boring and extremely easy class for me, as I had only been one point away from the next grade class.
     The rest of my classes were pretty okay, I loved loved loved my drama class, it was mostly seventh and eighth graders who seemed to like me and a few nice quite sixth graders. But after fourth period heaven came fifth period-well you know what goes here,(h-e-double hockey stick.). My Spanish class was all sixth grade boys who all hated me, three popular girls who didn't talk to me and one study-holic who glared at me for not knowing an answer. I mean, why take the class when your already fluent! Don't get me wrong I loved my Spanish teacher, she had long dark curly drown hair and she was totally a Star Wars nerd. She was great, class not so much. So after what felt like hours in there, I met up with my "friend" Beatrice. I quoted "friend" because we really had nothing in common. She was there for me when I needed it and I was grateful for that.
     I ended my day watching safety videos in wood shop with my not to shabby looking teacher Mr. Robinson, no I don't have a crush on him like every other girl in the school, but I'm not going to deny, he's not ugly. I misguidedly sighed, thinking my troubles were over, it was far from that because next I was going on...-cue scary music-...

The Bus