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When Jake arrived at school the following morning with his bag filled to the brim with advertisements for a babysitter, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he evidently looked like a complete and utter dickhead.
He arrived punctually to his first period of Biology, which was a rare feat for him and quickly glanced towards the board where a seating plan for the year was displayed. After a swift scan he found himself placed next to Effie Rylander - year thirteen's very own basket case.
Unsuccessfully concealing his look of vexation, he trudged towards the desk she was sat at and placed himself down on the neighbouring stool. He smiled at her in a weak, half-hearted attempt at friendship, yet was responded to with a fierce scowl.
Effie's hair was the colour of burnt umber and whilst long, it hung in tangles down her back, with the constant impression that it had never felt the tender touch of a brush. Onyx pencil eyeliner outlined her eyelids, smudged slovenly across her phantom-like skin. To conclude, Effie Rylander was a mean girl's nightmare incarnate.
Jake gave a solemn nod in her direction without looking straight at her, before facing the front once more. He truly believed that if he made eye contact with the girl for one second, she might turn him to stone - like Medusa. That is, if Medusa had been a mentally unstable, teenage stoner.
He unzipped his backpack and looked at the advertisements, immediately regretting ever having brought them to school. Did his parents want him to be bullied? Furthermore, Jake didn't very much like the thought of either an irritating chav or spoiled, bratty slag babysitting his younger sister and brother.
He removed a single sheet and screwed it up into a ball, shortly after dropping it to the floor. That way, if his dad asked him if he had distributed them throughout the school, he wouldn't feel like a complete liar. He decided he would dispose of the remaining 74 advertisements in a bin somewhere.
Jake then began to examine the students in his class, soon having the realisation dawn upon him that there was not a single soul in the room that he actually liked.
Various girls with tangerine skin, hot pink talons for nails and eyebrows seemingly coloured in with Sharpies sat in the front right corner of the room. They were occupied with either inspecting each other's manicures, applying further vast amounts of make-up to their already cakey, artificial faces or vainly admiring themselves in compact mirrors. The walking wotsits.
Jake despised them and their false attitudes, lacking in personality and benevolence. Lacking everything apart from the sense that they were superior to everybody else in the school.
