Someone Just Like Her

Things arent Awful

I look at Chris with curiosity as he drinks from his water bottle, biceps bulging.

I've never really spoken to many boys in my life since I got past the age of ten, and even then, I've never been very sure on how it's done.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, this mysterious boy sacrifices his own solo so I can see the nationals.

"So," he says, "How are we going to do this?"

I look at him blankly.

"How are we going to practice?" He rephrased.

"Oh," I flush slightly, "Well I'm free just about every day of the week, so just pick-"

"Ok," he says, walking away, "Everyday then. 6:00pm, here,"

"Oh ok then," I have to almost shout back, "Starting from tomorrow?"

"Is tomorrow included in 'everyday'?" He asks, rhetorically.

"Shut up," I say playfully.

I hear him laugh slightly, then walk down the hall and call back faintly, "You're a good dancer by the way, Indigo,"

I smile and exit the studio.

Thankfully, it's my Mum waiting for me outside the studio and not Taylor. I really don't feel like dying tonight.

"You look happy" she says with a smile. I just laugh and nod and smile continuously.

The alarm clock went off again this morning, but I didn't hate it this time.

I threw on another of the outfits that isn't as nice but oh well.

I viciously rub some acne cream on my acne, which has worsened drastically since last night. I sigh.

Then I think about dancing - the nationals - Chris.

My acne covered face lightens.

Granna honks her horn gracelessly outside the apartment.

I barge past Taylor, who is drinking his cereal from the bowl.

He spills some down his shirt.

"Indigo! You bitch!" He says angrily.

I jog to Granna's car and manage to get myself in the front seat before Taylor comes lumbering outside, giving me a cold stare and squeezing himself into the back of the car.

The other classes I have don't have assigned seats, so I sit as close to potential friends as possible, but never actually say anything.

I must look like a freak, following them, then never speaking.

I cringe at my own actions frequently.

Before I know it, I'm almost at lunch, English.

I honestly won't lie to you, I loved English at my old school.

I was shit at maths, my science teacher hated me, my French teacher called me "Eendijo" and my history teacher was only slightly insane.

Only. Slightly.

But this English is really awkward. Especially since I sit next to two boys.

At least one of them looks nice.

I accidentally make another awkward eye contact and he gives me another warm smile. It's nice to see someone that looks that nice.

The teacher begins to speak. I try hard to focus but all I can think about is dancing, and Chris.