Snowflakes

December 4th

4th

"The most memorable people in life will be the friends who loved you when you weren't very lovable." - Unknown.

I know right from the start that it isn't going to be a good day. The moment I open my eyes, only to involuntarily shut them again and proceed to oversleep for a further fifteen minutes, I can tell that my mood is going to be less than cheerful.

The weather seems to reflect how I feel. As soon as I step outside I feel my clothing becoming saturated with icy December rain. Fog hangs low, hindering my vision of beyond a few feet in front of my face.

My failure to drag myself out of bed in time means I have to break into a sprint in order to just about manage to jump on the bus before the door closes.

At least I get twenty minutes or so to relax as the bus crawls through the early morning rush hour traffic.

❄

"I cannot believe it's tomorrow!"

"What are you wearing?"

"Do you reckon he's inviting his ex?"

"I'm so excited!"

The multitude of voices I hear at once as I step into my form room are startling. They all have the same ecstatic tone and pretty much the same message. It takes me a moment to work out what the buzz in the room is about. When I do work it out, I can't help but groan.

I scan the room for the sight of my best friend. When I spot her - firstly by her brown hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head - she's chatting animatedly to one of the popular girls. No prizes for guessing what they're talking about. I'm quick to weave my way through the maze of my class mates and desks until I reach her.

"Immy!" I exclaim, my voice surprisingly bright considering my dull mood.

"Oh, hi Scarlett!" Imogen replies, pulling me into a brief hug. The popular girl, Emily, offers me a small smile. It's as if she's unsure how to act around anyone with a below average social status. I muster a half smile back, after all she's one of the better ones.

"Em and I were just talking about the party tomorrow night," Imogen tells me. My half smile falters at her words. "But I just have no idea what to wear!" As she hears a mention of clothes, Emily – the fashion icon of the school – visibly perks up.

"Well you see, I bought this gorgeous body-con dress from Topshop at the weekend. It's black, but it's got little flecks of gold in it. I don't think I've ever loved a piece of clothing more! Well, maybe I have... but that's beside the matter! Anyway, whilst I was shopping this beautiful top caught my eye. The colour would compliment your eyes so much."

As Emily babbles on about how a certain outfit could make my best friend look like a supermodel, I wonder why the popular girls feel the need to be so animated in their speech. Almost every other word is emphasised and each sentence features some form of light headed giggle or a flutter of lashes.

Imogen sometimes slips into their habits, but I'm always quick to point it out. It's not that I hate popular people, I'm sure they're alright. Well, most of them at least. It's just that everything seems so... fake. As if all the exaggerated embraces and air kisses are just for show, a way to boost their popularity and make them the one everybody wants to be.

❄

"But surely you're at least a teensy bit excited for tomorrow?" Immy asks in a small, whiny voice.

"No," I reply stubbornly. "And stop talking in that voice."

She rolls her eyes. I take a left in the maze of school corridors, turning into the corridor that contains the block of metal lockers that, since the start of the month, have been making my heartbeat rise at just the sight of them.