A Rose as Black as your Heart

(8) Friends- at last!

Chapter 8

The week passed with agonizing slowness. During school, I saw nothing of Daniel or his ‘cult’. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved about that or not.

School days settled into a steady routine. Some people still stared like their eyes were magnets glued to my every movement, but there was less of it. I guess it didn’t help that I was constantly drawing attention to myself in class. I couldn’t help it; I couldn’t be bothered to raise my hand, and I often had a lot to say. Generally, they didn’t have all that much to do with what we were discussing in the lesson, and if they did, it was usually to contradict something the teacher had said. I got a feeling after a while that they didn’t really like me much. The rest of the kids didn’t seem to mind me, but none of them really wanted to chat.

Until Friday, that was.

I got to school early that day. As usual, the rain misted down, and I pulled up my hood as the raindrops settled in my hair like tiny pearls. I watched as more people flooded the school, picking out the obvious cliques that clumped together; the so-called “nerds”, who usually aren’t really nerds, just the clever, quiet people who listen in class; the jocks, who raced around with various sports equipment and wolf-whistled at girls; the sporty girls, who all looked tough an athletic, and the popular girls, gathered in their giggling group with perfect hair and Gucci handbags swinging from their arms. The boys crowded around them like bees around honey. I resisted rolling my eyes; every single school was exactly the same.

Then, the top dog parted the crowds of make-up-wearing, high heel-loving girls, her waves of golden hair perfectly straight and neat, her long tanned legs barely covered by a mini-skirt that could easily pass for a belt. As she swaggered towards the school with her illegally high heels clicking loudly, the crowd of Gucci-loving populars followed, and the jocks trailed after them, mesmerised. All they needed was some slow motion hair tossing and some electric guitar and they could be playing a scene from Mean Girls. I actually snorted at the thought.

As I looked round, I realised I was the only outcast. In Belleville, I’d been an outcast too, but I always had Savannah, so it wasn’t too bad. I really needed to get myself a friend.

The bell tolled, and all the kids waiting outside streamed into the corridors. I eased my way through the rushing crowds, trying to think of the simplest way to get someone to notice me (without being weird, that was). In the end, I decided maybe I should go for the cheesy scene you always see in corny American movies: the poor new girl walk along with her head down, and collides with someone who helps her pick up her books, asks for their timetable and then see’s (surprise, surprise) that they have exactly the same schedule. It happens all the time in the movies, so why not to me?

Oh, because my life is a mess, not a movie. That’s why.

I tucked my hood over my hair and walked through the corridors that were slowly emptying, holding a bunch of books in front of me like a shield, praying for someone to walk into me who would instantly befriend me.

BAM! I smacked into a huge chest, and dropped my books. I had been planning to do that anyway, but the force took me by surprise. No one mentions in the movies how much crashing into someone hurts.