I don't even know anymore

This

I didn't see Eleanor at her locker the next morning. For once it felt kind of lonely gathering up my books and walking slowly to class. Luckily Lisa didn't bother me much, just calling out 'emo' and 'bitch' as I walked past. I slumped into my seat at the back of the class and rested my head on the palm of my hand. Miss Heart began to enthusiastically talk about Shakespeare. I focused on the blank page with the grey lines stretching across it, all the exact same length and width. It reminded me of school. The boring white background and the many matching lines doing the exact same thing.
My head snapped up when I heard Miss Heart yell at someone for tardiness. I glanced at the door before hurriedly averting my gaze back to my notepad.
"Miss, I apologise but my gran's cat was sick and I had to help clean up." The late student explained, the girls in front of me made retching sounds and grimaced at the thought.
"Not good enough, see me after class Eleanor." Miss Heart responded, turning back to her whiteboard. Eleanor rushed to sit at her desk and pulled her book out of her rucksack. She turned, flailed her arm around (I assume it was her version of waving) and grinned madly at me. Almost like the night before never happened.
I was beginning to realise just how quick her mood can change. For example yesterday morning, one minute she was demanding we became friends then one snarky remark later she changed into this sassy warrior. Part of me liked it. But the part dreaming of consistency was starting to get irritated.
"Lucy! What's your favourite Shakespearean play?" Miss Heart called out to me. Slowly I met her cold stare and stuttered out an answer. Hamlet. It's a tragedy full of revenge, like my life.