"That" girl

Chapter 3

As the bus pulled up at school, I quickly put my book away, and threw my backpack over my shoulder.

Entering the building, I am greeted by the sounds and smells. Apparently nobody knows that more is not always better when I comes to perfume and cologne.

I scour the people-infested lunchroom for an empty table, preferably in a corner or some other secluded place.

Knowing my luck, it isn't hard to believe that there were absolutely no empty tables. Time for Plan B.

I retreat to a wall away from the "students".

They act like drones; they all laugh the same, talk the same, walk the same, dress the same. It's like they're programed to annoy the life out of non-drones.

I used to listen to music while waiting for the bell to ring last year, but apparently "it's important to hear if there are announcements."

After what seems like an eternity, but is probably only a few minutes, the bell rings. Good news: I'm finally free of the packed lunchroom. Bad news: the bell releases a flood of bodies through the halls.

As I try to push my way past the overly-perfumed drones, I'm bombarded with stares and curses. It feels like everyone is watching me-it's probably only a few of the more popular people that are staring.

I eventually reach my locker, randomly throw my backpack in, and grab my things for the next few classes.

Some idiot thinks it's funny to push my books out of my hands, spilling them all over the floor. Of course, everyone laughs. It's at moments like these that I wish I had somebody to stand up for me. Or at least death-stare the laughing drones. Oh well.

First period social studies. Yay what joy. I'm obviously being sarcastic duh. I actually used to enjoy social studies years back. I used to enjoy all my subjects to be honest.

Except gym.

I've always hated gym with a burning passion for some reason.

But school used to challenge me, and that's what I loved about it. Ever since about seventh grade, it's become way too easy; they just reteach what we learned in elementary and middle school.

I've learned over the years that a great time to read is when I'm supposed to be paying attention because "I will use this information in my later years." Right.

Every year, we "review" American history, and every year, they tell us that we will get up to the modern age. We keep getting stuck in at the Civil War. Last time I checked, we're not living in the late 1800s.

I pull out my book, hiding it in the depths of my desk, and disappear into a whole new, better world.