Chapter 2

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Authors note: Hey guys, thanks so much for sticking with this story! I truly appreciate it and didn't expect it, also thanks for the votes you lovely peeps did you don't know how excited that made me :) So yeah, as promised this chapter is much longer this time but my chapters won't be as long as this I just wanted to give you guys a good dose as the plot picks up a bit.  i once more apologise for the lines which I can't figure out. I would still love some comments if possible and thanks for those who did last time, I appreciate it and I hope you enjoy and like it as much as before and hopefully more, I've had a lot of headaches this week so I hope it's okay because I fought to get this out today. I will be updating every Monday. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

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I stare out the window lost in thought, mesmerized as the trees outside the window dance to the beat of the wind, the trees branches frantically winding and bending to keep in time with each other and the spell of the wind which casts its spell but missing out each time, as forth fit shedding a tear of pain which the trees can't afford to lose as too many have fallen already, that tear is a leaf, one of the same in appearance as most of the rest that have fallen yet equally different if placed under the microscope, the veins of water that keep them alive wound and drive in different directions, much like peoples lives as we grow old and change, live and die. The shimmering tree leaves tremble more as the wind cracks it's whip down on them, presenting the force of nature to those who can't reach or appreciate it as it takes more leaves from the tree which were before joyously free, letting the sun reflect its light off them for the last time, sending rays of gold, blood orange and fire across my textbook, their last defiant mark to show that they lived. I smile sadly to myself as I think how much this is similar to how human life is; how we love to dance and live and to be free but there is always an overruling factor, commanding we do what we love but without fault and that we all be the same and in unison but that is not how we work, we can be made to appear the same by having the same hair, body size and eyes but we are not the same up close, we do not all have the same dreams, idea of fun or ideas of how we live our life. We are not the same. So why can't I build up enough guts to show my difference? I sigh in frustration, holding my pen a little tighter as I focus down on the maths question I'm supposed to be doing. Oh god, I need to get a grip and stop moping is what I need to do.

"Roxy what's that girls name over there? I'm having a blank moment and I'm doing reports." Mrs Scott whispered. Okay no, they're not talking to about you, it's okay you just think they are because of your own stupid insecurities. My eyes flicker up involuntarily towards Mrs Scott's desk at the front. I feel my heart fall straight to the floor as I see Mrs Scott glancing my way, her caramel eyes met mine for a split second before she immediately looked at her computer screen, guiltily biting her already worn lip. Okay, teachers have blank moments, I've heard her call me by my name before its fine. But Roxy, she's a different story as I've been in her class since year two, even though she is part of the bitch squad that sends students into more panic attacks than exams, she should know my name, right? Without shame she flicks her glossy blond wavy hair behind her shoulder and turns fully towards me. I look straight down at my page pulling my hair to cover my eyes more so I can still see her. She looks straight at me with uncaring, cold eyes which seem to shoot straight into my mind, picking out my insecurities like apples out of an apple barrel. Her face showed no sign of an expression as she looks at me giving away nothing whilst I feel like I can't breathe. She raises a perfect stencilled eyebrow at me and turns back to Mrs Scott whilst the rest of the girls around her wait for her response eagerly.

"Who the Middle Row Girl?" my heart feels like it's about to beat out of my chest.

"Yes!" my teacher whisper hissed, clearly frustrated with herself that she had to ask the worst person.

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