Drop-Off Dandy

Let me introduce myself. No-one reading this will know much about me. I'm enjoying life to the full. Because I'm Lucy "The Assassin." Now to explain the nickname.

Ever since the beginning of high school, each person in my class got a nickname. My best friend got the nickname Butterfingers after he spilled the ball in a vital, knock-out soccer game, resulting in the other side winning. I got the name Assassin because of the way I looked at people if they got on the wrong side of me, as if I could turn them to stone. One guy in the class got the name Drop-Off Dandy. He went to sleep in a French lesson. The teacher saw this and tapped his shoulder. With a jolt, he woke up. The teacher asked him, "Did you drop off, Dandy?" His real name was Danny but she pronounced the name wrongly/ I've no idea how. However, the class reminded him of this incident again and again until the nickname stuck.

Now we're in Year Nine, and our Head of Year has told us that no-one can drop off during lessons this year. (Insert looks at Dandy, blushing and giggling.) We've had it banged into our heads that this is going to be the year where we decide what we want to do with our lives. It turns out that it was going to be much more than that.

You could tell that from the beginning of the year when everyone chatted about the guys and girls they'd hooked up with. Even my best friend, Ryan, had picked up a girlfriend.  This was pretty amazing in itself. Everyone had done something exciting and everyone had something to talk about. I didn't. I didn't care, either.

That was until English. The last lesson of the day. The teacher, Mr. Jones, asked us what we had done. I zoned out at this point. However, this question was followed with loads of shrieks which went along these quotes

"I got a boyfriend!"

"I bought a guitar!"

"I went on holiday!"

"I went to a theme park!"

"I saw Mr. Jones at a concert!"

Everyone laughed at the last one, including the balding, aging Mr. Jones. When he saw that I didn't laugh, he knew I wasn't listening. Unfortunately Mr. Jones and I are quite similar in certain ways so he knows what I am doing and thinking.

"So what did you do, Ms. Assassin?"

A couple of titters could be made out from some of the ditzy girls in the class who had forgotten my nickname. I gave them an Assassin-glare. They stopped.

I turned back to Mr. Jones and told him, "Nada. Nothing. Nought."

Mr. Jones frowned at this. You know that specific look that teacher give you when they are so disappointed? Mr. Jones gave me that look. He looked at me straight into my eyes and told me that I needed to get some hobbies. Some people took it as a joke and laughed aloud. The rest knew that Mr. Jones was serious. The jokers soon realised their mistake. They suddenly stopped their cackles.

I shrugged. He rolled his eyes at me and started his lesson.

I soon discovered that I was going to have to take up his advice. I was always bored. I didn't have a lot to do. I tended to read but I sometimes got so sick of it that I would lounge around the house and watch television. I needed to do something.

After the lesson, I could finally relax. It may have just been the summer holidays but I felt like I was midway through the year again. And so I decided to do something with my life.

As I walked out of school, I thought about what I would love to do. I would love to play the guitar and write music. I would love to write books and novels. That was it.

So as soon as I got home, I attempted to write a chapter of a book. There were so many ideas revolving in my head that I could just pick one out and write about it. That's what I did. And after brainstorming and writing, I wrote the start of a novel. My novel. Then I left it, did some homework and continued with real life.