Fillipa

New school

I walk into a new classroom, of a new school, of a new town, a new fresh start. Once again. I seem to be moving schools every six or seven months the past three years and it has not been fun at all. But I have to say, this one has a better uniform policy. We barely have to wear any uniform! It’s practically a free dress school, so that’s one good thing about it.
There are four rows of five, so this class must have a maximum of twenty people in it. Small class? Check. But there are no completely empty tables, so nope; I cannot sit on my own. A few of the tables only have one person on them. Shame for them to sit next to me.
“Fillipa Brighton?” a teacher interrupts my important thinking. I can tell it was a teacher because of its irritating enthusiastic sharpness. “Stand over here, darling,” she says as she looks at me. I walk over to where she wants me to stand. Okay, this is getting awkward already. “Okay class, this is Fillipa.” Let me go woman, let me go. "Tell us a little something about yourself… ” she says. So I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “Uuuuuumm, okay, I was born in Spain, and I have moved schools seven times…” Teacher still has a cheesy grin on her face. Class looks board. Well, most of them. “…And I have seven siblings.” Teacher looks shocked, class looks shocked, but they soon go back to being board.
“Okay, I think you can go to a desk now…” The teacher says. Finally. Now back to my thinking. Where do I sit? I don’t know. There is a boy that is resting his chin on his hands on his desk, alone. He kind of looks, sad, and all the other kids that are sitting on their own are laughing and chatting to the people around them.
I have a long history of sitting next to popular-looking people so I get a better chance. But today, I think a may take a risk, even if it does ruin my chances completely. I will most likely move schools in a couple of months, anyways. But I feel a tad queasy in my stomach, but that’s normal on a first day of school, believe me.I cringe slightly, remove all thoughts from my mind and walk swiftly over to the lonely boys table. There is a few mumbles and whispers from the other kids. Okay, I bite my lip, and slide slowly into the plastic green chair next to him. I survived it. Just.
Lonely boy, who is not so lonely now, looks at me with his huge green-ish brown eyes and gives me a small, watery smile, and I notice he has a small dimple and a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose as well. I quickly look back at the teacher, as she writes, ‘Miss Glass’ on the white board. So finally, I know her name. Lonely boy still hasn’t told me his name and I feel his eyes boring into me shoulder and I also think I am blushing severely now. Talk about awkward. I am pretty sure most of the class is staring at me now, just because I am sitting next to lonely boy. Is there anything wrong with him? Anything bad he did to anyone? Miss Glass gave me a slightly surprised and slightly shocked look but not saying anything. “So okay class,” she finally says, “the bell is going to go soon, and when it does, can you please follow Mrs Day up to the gym.” Oh, great. It’s PE on my first day here. Just awesome. It does not look like lonely boy is to keen on it, either.
As we are waiting silently, the bell goes off and every one scurries out of homeroom with their bags. As I get up, I am noticing that I only come up to lonely boys chin. I am also noticing that lonely boy is as skinny as a toothpick, and his skin is ever so slightly tanned. There is a small crowd accumulating around the doorway, blocking it. Lonely boy is behind me. I sigh, and then shout, “MOVE!” at the top of me lungs. A few of the people look at me shocked, but quickly move away. Glad my little trick still works well! I look behind me, and see that lonely boy has another watery smile on his face, showing of his small dimple again, he is staring into space and daydreaming. I am kind of staring at him, he looks at me and as soon as he does I quickly look away to avoid awkwardness. I think I am turning pink so I hide behind my blond hair and swiftly walk through the doorway, with lonely boy still walking behind me.
The corridor we are walking in is very long and boring with sickly yellow carpet with dirt stains on it. I am trying to walk a little faster, but lonely boy caches up with me. He gently taps me on the shoulder. “Errrm, sorry, but my name is Ashley.....” he says, but not quite looking me in the eye. Yippy! Lonely boy now has a name! “Okay, good to know,” I say, TRYING to look him in the eye, but he avoids it.