The Elite School

The Girl Who Doesn't Like Fun

This chapter is not edited 

I am someone who doesn't like fun.

Now don't get me wrong. I do enjoy having fun sometimes, like hanging out with friends. Its just that, because I do it so rarely, people have deemed to me that I don't enjoy fun because all I do is study. And that if I do have fun, its always something to do with academics.

I guess my kind of personality is that I can be too subjective to what people say of me. I just believe what everyone says about me, because they have experienced the world and know it better than me, while I lived under a rock for almost my whole life when I was homeschooled. Having strict parents and all who made sure I stayed innocent and that I wouldn't be exposed to the 'real world.' So when I did go out into the 'real world' when I was 15 and began High School, I just believed what everyone told me because I didn't know any better. Because they told me that too.

And so I became the girl who didn't like fun.

Okay, maybe I should properly introduce myself, being that this book is about me.

My name is Amy, or in full, Amy Elizabeth Hashimoto. As you can see, I have an Asian last name. (Am I being racist cause I said that?) This is because my mother is Japanese, and my father is kiwi. Not an actual kiwi. I mean he is a New Zealander. And so what does that make me? A Half! Yes, I am half Japanese and half Kiwi. I'm a pretty unique person, aren't I?

... Okay maybe not that unique, but you know. It still feels kinda special. Anyway, back to the picture. Now don't worry this story is not going to be written like an entire biography. I will try and write it like a normal book would. Just I might try and interact with you (the audience, the readers) a bit more. Try and make it a bit unique and interesting. Wow, this feels more like a authors note, than an actual first chapter. 

So, as I said above, for most of my life I lived under a rock, never being exposed to the world. And then I was finally allowed to go to High School when I was 15 in order to get a 'proper' education. I went to a Catholic School, called St Mary's College. Here I met my friends who told me about the real world and all. But I have always wondered what are friends really?

I always thought that friends were the kind of people who always stayed by your side and people who could make you happy. At least, that was what I was taught in Home School. It seems that the real world has a different definition for friends. Something like will make you happy only after you have done something for them. For me, it seemed, they only hung out with me and were nice to me when they wanted help with study. And the moment I wasn't needed, they left me. But I guess that was the way society and friendship worked in the real world. I mean I didn't know any better than them, living under a rock and all for 15 years.

Being the new kid in school, I knew that I would be considered weird the moment I went there. Although I was homeschooled, I did understand that I was ... different to them. And so I was not surprised when they kept on asking me questions about homeschool and treated me as though I was some kind of mysterious alien. Some did try to be friendly with this mysterious being, but it seems like they couldn't understand my language. They couldn't understand my culture. I was the weird being. I was not normal. Why? Well, It all started on my first day of school, during my Economics Class... 

The bell rang. It was sort of like a screeching noise a bird makes before it dies. The crowds of the school were rushing to their first classes like wild packs of wolves. Some were frightened of what lay ahead. Some were determined to try and get through this awful first day. And some were just oblivious and uncaring of their surroundings. Before our study classes started, we had something called whanau. Whanau was about 20 minutes long and had around 4 - 5 people from each year, and one of the teachers at school would be the whanau teacher. Whanau was supposed to get people from different closer to each other. Although the teacher, Mrs. Walter, who was an English teacher, was very nice to me, no one else seemed to want to talk to me. No one except for a quiet boy named James. He was in the same year as me and we both had economics first. So I guess we kind of got along with that.