My nose was pressed to the cold glass of my bedroom window. My body was shivering under the hot blankets. I was sweating. My hair was a mess. It was 12:46 AM. 6th of November. I was 13.My name was Zoe. I think I might of had the flu... maybe... I remember just one more thing. The moon wasn't visible as it was surrounded by a blanket of dark grey clouds. That's it.
6 Months Before May the 6th.
126th day of the year.184 Days until I die.
"Okay class. I'm afraid Mrs Murray isn't here today... So I'll be taking her class..." I'd always strongly disliked Mr Davidson. He scared me. He spoke with long pauses and heavy breaths. He was old. One way of telling that is because of, as I've already mentioned, his effort to breathe and talk, not to mention Mr Davidson (Or mister D, because we had noticed he had a very large penis) (What?!!! He does) Has white hair, a long beard and too many (even for his age, assuming he's about 80) wrinkles from frowning all of his life, every day.
Everyone groaned. "I've been left some... work for you to... complete..." Mr Davidson puts on his best tight smile, curving his lips up. "Please take out your... books... Come on guys... I'm not very good at... English... so your gonna have to... help me out here"
Some of the nerdier pupils up the front giggled a little. I sighed. Mr D was an English teacher. Not to us, to the juniors, so he was used to making lame jokes that less than 5% of the class actually found funny. I'm not very good at maths, but of the 34 people in our class, and the 31 that actually turned up, I don't think 5%s alot.
I pulled out my light blue text book and zoned out for the rest of the hour long period. I only dazed out of my daydream when the bell rang. I had Maths, Geography, science and music left. Maths geo and science I hated- I only chose them because the teachers were OK- but I loved music. I was actually interested in it, even if all we were doing at the moment was learning about Mozart.
Some people would probably say that I was rotten. I had people who cared about me, loved me, I had friends, a boyfriend, a family, money... What more could I want?
"Heyyyyyy princess" Jordie ran up to me a great big grin on his face.
"Heyyy J" I sighed trying to look as sad as possible- I WANTED him to feel sorry for me.
"What's up Zoe?" He stuck out his bottom lip as a poutie expression.
"Nothing, sorry" I put on a smile.
The thing was that we'd been dating for 3 months, yet apparently he was 'in love' with me and he had all these nicknames for me- Princess, honey, poppet, sweetie, doll.
I didn't love him. Never had, never will. It's for 'the public'. When you're popular you have responsibilities to carry out, and most of them include pleasing the crowd. Jordie's the captain of the rugby team, the school's hearthrob, yet since I was the leader of the cheerleading team, I had to pair up with him.
So stereotypical, I know. Sounds like something from a Disney movie. Popular girl and popular boy. Argh. I hate this.
