Angel face

She looked up from her work to steal a glance at ME. Again. I swear she likes me. I swear she does.

And it's Me she's fallen for. The boy down the road. The boy who gets laughed at by her friends. The boy that is innocent. The boy she can do better than. She should have fallen for one of those popular guys like Oakley Slin or Roy Laden. One of THEM, not ME. I feel like I've betrayed her by purely letting her fall for me.

Not literally, face fat on the floor like a pancake type.

She doesn't deserve a boy who's always got his head in science books like there's no tomorrow. I bet all she does is lie around watching TV or going out with her so called "chums". That's what the "Upper Class" mates are called. The upper class are the bunch of kids that mess around, you know, getting up to no good. But the funny thing is, they try to be like us. Smart. On the teacher's good side. Forever getting praise. They're trying to be like the "Lower Class".

She's still looked at me. But she looks distant. Like she isn't really looking at me. Looking somewhere else, like her mind is adrift, chasing thoughts.

I'm supposed to be doing my work. But all I want to do is escape from the same four walls I see every school day. Urgh.

I scan the room, from left to right. On the far table on the left is The lowest class people. On the next table, parallel is the uppest class people.

With Josie Sleen.

I think that's how you spell it. Anyways, then there's our table at a 90 degree angle to the lowest class people, (just to be precise; you have to be accurate when you're a lower class like myself, it's just what you do, that's the way it is. You live your life like that. I know it's sad, you don't have to remind me how much of a geek I already am, but you may as well be smart, cos no one else notices if you're trying to be a laddo.)

Laddo: a higher class mate. Which can be a girl or boy, wierd, right?

Carrying on with the tour...

( I'm sorry I have to tell you where everything is, else it just doesn't work. Anything doesn't work. And just because I have to inform you of my surroundings[I do apologise for my awfully extensive geek style of a vocabulary in which any human being should not have the pleasure of enduring as you won't understand the meaning of truly diverse words])

Anyway, now that that little escapade of geekiness has gotten over me, let's carry on...

Then next to my table, again there's another table, attached to Kipper's desk. This one has lower class people like us, same with the table behind that one, and behind ours. It's sort of set out like a six on a die. Like this:

Lowest class ....................................Uppest class( Josie Sleen here!!!)

Me( with normal lower class ).......... lower class ...................................Kipper's desk

More lower class ..............................And more lower class

Maybe a seven on a die including Kipper's desk, if there were such thing as a regular die having seven sides. I doubt any of you dummies have even seen a seven sided die.

I do apologise for the appalling rudeness that seems to be seeping out of my mouth currently. I promised myself I wouldn't try to seek myself as highly, or higher than you.

SORRY.

Urgh, I'm distracting myself. Again.

I shall try hard not to bore you by continuing with this silly, unnecesary amd unnapealing talk.

It is very strange...

Thing is I still can't get it into my head why she likes me. Josie Sleen. She's an upper. I'm a lower. Different.