When I think of mornings, I have trouble saying names for those who don't like the sweet tweets of birds and sunshine peeking through the curtains. It is mainly because :
1. I don't have any friends.
2. I'm an official weirdo for anyone to not come near me.
I despise mornings. Each morning.
Because it is the start of another torture. Another day in hell.
When it comes to my habitual area, it is much worse than a stray dog. A one- bedroomed, a small 1 square meter kitchen, and a bathroom enough to fit one little goat exactly.
But, it is all I can afford. From my little salary from the cafe, it is considered as a luxury. Some people would say it is very lucky for poor children to get scholarships on big, luxurious, and expensive schools, but it is worse for them.
Being the most poor one amongst the richest children. All children of VIPs. And in my case, I study and at Strafford High, the most luxurious school in London, but have no money to buy one day's meals.
Since the day my mother died, my life has been like this. At least she kept me happy; she let me know no pain; no struggle.
It has been seven months precisely. The day she died, I thought I was going insane. The last living relative I had was gone. Technically, she was the only one I had.
I sprang from the little bed and rushed to the bathroom to have a quick shower and to brush my teeth. After finishing all my businesses, the next task was to choose an outfit that didn't highlight the fact that it was a torn, hand-me-down. But, the other fact was that every outfit I had was pretty out-coloured.
Anyways, I chose a forget-me-not blue sweater with faded lines and black jeans, then my forever Nike shoes, which I thought the sole will peel off when I was in 8th grade. But thanks to my small feet, I haven't got a chance to buy another one, or more specifically, I haven't had enough money to pay all the rent and buy myself a shoe. I knew my mom was working so hard so I didn't mind to bother her.
Life was better in a weird way when you are poor, I'd say. I mean, you will get used to being hungry, so no breakfast, no meals, no problems. You will get used to the fact that you will never get anything nice to wear, and mainly, no boyfriend, so prom isn't even on the list.
So, I was a girl who had nothing, not even a single penny to live herself some girly life.
Anyways, I was used to this life. I am used to this kind of life.
I grabbed my bag and keys and went to the bus stop.
Mind you, it is the keys to the house. Not to my car. I seriously don't want my house to get robbed. And it's not like I have a car after all those definitions I said about my life. Not that I have anything valuable, I have nothing money-vice valuable. But I do have some things that mean a hell lot to me. When things were extra bad for me, memories of my mother helped me ease the pain. The pain of losing someone you love.
I hardly ever cried since my mother died. But, the pain in my chest was big. My mother always said that when the world turns against you, you keep on walking.
It was ten minutes since I've been standing here. Probably a hundred cars passed by, except my bus.
Now after another five minutes, here comes the Strafford High School Bus!
It pulled over and the door automatically opened. I flashed a toothy grin to the driver, Mr Grayson. He is the only one who at least smiles at me. Even though we don't talk much, it has been a ritual since my 6th grade to grin at him every day.
And obviously, I'm one of the few who takes the bus to the school. Everyone has at least have a Volvo S60. Only ones who take the buses are mostly the ones who got grounded by their parents.
I sat in the first seat, and I
could hear the blabbers from my fellow seniors. Is it weird that I know at least something about them, and they know nothing about me or doesn't even know that I exist?
The bus pulled over after some time, and again as the obvious it is, I was the first one to get off the bus. I walked down the hallway, absorbing all the disgust looks and some words like 'slut', 'cheapo'.
Eh, I'm not buying that, sorry.
My first class was in Biology. Most favourite one. Actually, every subject is my favourite. Well, it's the reason I even got into this luxurious school in the first place. I'm just smart.
I stepped into my class, and I was the first one to enter.
I chose a window seat and took out all my books and stuff. Slowly the class filled up, and I was stupidly staring at the blackboard with a big BIOLOGY in it.
I was completely floating through my mind when I was snapped out of it.
And there stood the mighty bitchy queen Madeline Huggins. Why does she have to ruin my every day literally?
"Hey, cheapo. How did you manage all your school supplies this year? One-night stands all summer?" She asked in the squeaky bitchy voice.
"I'm hell not like you, Madeline. Piss off," I muttered.
She stood there, glaring at me. And I knew this was another war starting.
"What did you say, you bitch-" she began but was interrupted.
"Madeline, why are you standing there? I thought all the students were supposed to be seated before the class starts," said our biology teacher, Mrs Smith.
She groaned, and sashayed all the way to her seat, next to her beloved boyfriend, Ethan Baxter.
Does he always have to be this grumpy?
I'm calling him Mr Grumpy, but no one knows that.
Of course, I would be dead if anyone knows. But no one will ever know because I'm calling him in my mind. Each time I look at his face, he's pissed off.
He's definitely one of the most handsome boys in this school. Those dark eyes, and perfect body, tall and captain of the lacrosse team and co-captain of soccer. And he got what he deserved for a girlfriend; physically, not mentally.
What, she's mental! Soon she will start eating his brain, and then he will dump her.
Yes, I'm having a crush on the most popular guy on school, who doesn't even know that I exist. Isn't it lovely?
The class started, and Madeline kept turning back at me to shoot some glares. I turned my attention to the teacher instead, and her eyes probably came out glaring at me.
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