✯The Secret Heir✯

III

Song for the Chapter :
Pumped up Kicks ~ Foster the People

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The rest of the morning went by uneventfully as I got settled into my classes and thanked the heavens that I crossed neither thick girls or that arrogant, amber-eyed twat from maths.

However, I hadn't made any friends at that point (unless you consider the scrawny freshman who showed me to maths) or met anyone I would consider being friends with, so all-in-all I really might need to consider working on my people skills. The fact that nobody took a shining to the kind, honest, pretty and modest new girl sucked big time and was also the reason why I am so hesitant to go through the double doors in front of me.

Lunch.

Okay, this wouldn't have been such a problem if I was back in England. There, I would simply sit at any table with my small friend group, consisting of three, and we would chat about whatever we wanted, be it the latest gossip flying round the school about the headteacher's newest facelift or Robert Millward's (often referred to as Dodgy Robby) newest 'unique' haircut.

We would laugh together, eat together and basically do everything for each other, except go into the toilet cubicle together because that was off boundaries ever since 'The hamster accident' of 2009.

I involuntarily shudder.

However, I am no longer with the comfort of my close circle of weird, but ever so wonderful, bunch of hooligans I call my friends. Here, the people I had met and had the pleasure of talking to, note the sarcasm, turned out to be, well, not the nicest people in existence, frankly, so you could understand my hesitancy.

I take a deep breath, subconsciously stroking playing with my thumbs, while trying to sum up all my inner badass and swagger.

I think you officially lost your 'swagger' when you said the word swagger.

Shut up.

Nope.

Why?

Because I'm here for life.

Joy.

I shake myself out of my inner turmoil, which I obviously won, and slowly push the double doors back, feeling a sharp wind, until I have a clear view of the hall.

The dining hall, or canteen, consists of many circular, multi-seated tables arranged in no obvious pattern with fluorescent orange seats surrounding them. These were all scattered around on a dull grey floor to which, much dust and dirt had accumulated, no doubt from all the scrubby teenage shoes scraping against the surface. To the left of where I stand lies the food serving place supplying many different meals, not all of them identifiable, hot and cold. There is also, thank goodness, a wide selection of vegetables so that people, like me, who are on a no carbs, no artificial flavourings, low fat, no sugar, little protein, nothing coloured red diet could 'eat'.

SARCASM

A body roughly whacks into my right shoulder causing me to stumble suddenly forward in shock. I whip my head up and glared menacingly into the ocean of people but was quick to realise that I had no clue what that jerk had looked like.