Nobody's Girl (British urban fiction//under revision)

2

The following day I took it upon myself to stay away from Devonte, he's obviously worse than the person I thought he was.

But that was proving to be impossible when he's in almost every single one of my classes.

My next period was art and I was shitting myself. Usually, I couldn't wait to get into class, but after what happened yesterday, that feeling felt almost non-existent.

In fact, I wanted to bunk so hard, but decided against it. It would totally ruin my report and the Sixth-Form that I wanted to get into are so strict on attendance and punctuality.

As the bell rang, I knew I had no choice but to brace myself and get this lesson over and done with.

Immediately I walked in all eyes were on me. Wait, I'm lying. No one took a single glance, and thank God for that too.

"Sorry I'm late.' I said, almost to a whisper, then walked to my seat.

"Alright, settle down class... Dylan, for the fifth time stop flicking paints at Sara! Jerome, what have I said about running in the class room? And for goodness sake Esme Richards, could just stop talking?"

"No, fuck off, am I the only one speaking?" she shot at her with the darkest screw I'd seen.

The lesson went on after Esme stopped swearing at the teacher. We just had to continue on form where we left off last lesson, which in my case was absolutely nothing.

I had already finished my course for this subject so It was practically a free period.

Ms Sykes told me to help her with the display boards around the room for her year 9 students.

Even from where I was, at the back of the class, standing on a table, I could still hear Esme and her clique speaking about me. Did they really have nothing better to talk about? I mean, my life is a huge shit. Why would they be so interested?

They gossiped on about what happened yesterday with me and Devonte. Half the things Ciara-Jane was recalling to them was nowhere near the valid truth. But of course, I didn't say anything, even though it was technically my business.

I wondered once again for the millionth time if Ciara-Jane and I would still be friends if she hadn't suddenly gotten pretty over the summer in year 7 and grown a model's body, causing her to drastically move up the social ladder.

I'd never had a boyfriend so I didn't know what being rejected by one would be like. But I imagined it was probably something like the way Ciara-Jane treated me when she decided I wasn't good enough to be her friend any longer.

We'd sat next to each other everyday all the way through primary school and half of year seven. We'd share lunch under a huge oak tree, helping each other out with homework and testing each other with maths equations.

Then one day, she was sitting in the back with row of classes with Esme Richards, having lunch Esme Richards, going to parties with Esme, walking home with Esme. And when she was with me, she'd pick useless fights and get pissed at everything I did, said and wore. She deleted my number and was always making excuses as to why we couldn't hang out.

But only after I heard she was going with Daniel Lewis, did it all suddenly make sense.

I knew I had no claim on Daniel, he was just this beautiful boy that I had this stupid crush on; but Ciara-Jane knew how I felt about him. She knew how hot I got when I saw him across the road and would always nudge me to make sure I'd seen him striding along the roads of Clifford Estate, his light brown hair glittering in the sunlight. She knew how I lived off the memory of him passing me a pencil in algebra (note, we were only twelve).