I may continue, however I'm not sure how good the story actually is, or could be 
**
The lights were bright in the classroom; too bright. I tried to focus my attention on the piece of paper lying in front of me but the miniature printed letters just flew past like a flock of birds.
Words were similar to birds in the sense that I couldn’t understand them. Birds flew in ‘formations’. In perfect harmony, all together. It must be hard, to spend that much time with each other. Travelling all the way across countries with so many other birds – never having time alone, but I guess that the formation was what kept them going. A routine.
I liked routines. I liked waking up to the same alarm and staring at the same crack in the dull grey wall of my bedroom before I forced myself out of bed. I liked eating the same cereal everyday and wearing my favourite red coat. I liked being first at school, even before the teachers. The caretaker would let me in, at a quarter to seven on the dot. I would sit in the locker room where the lights were dim but never flickered and I would sit in silence enjoying the beautiful emptiness around me.
Change was unnecessary.
That’s why I didn’t like the words. Each one was different, each sentence was different. Each lesson she’d teach us a different ‘genre’ of writing and they’d all use the same words but differently and it would all just come smashing together in my head like the violent death of a star leaving an empty black hole floating where the knowledge that everyone else was scribbling on their sheets should have been.
We had learnt about the death of stars two weeks ago and seen a video. Although the science labs are much too bright I enjoy science. It’s logical, it makes sense.
But, better than science is maths. Once you know the main rules you can do anything, if you try hard enough. People think I’m stupid though, they don’t think I can do it.
“Quickly, write down what’s on the board. She’s about to rub it off!”
I blinked and looked at the girl sitting next to me. I took in her familiar long dark brown hair cascading down her back and cherry lips. This was Ruby. My eyes followed the direction of her arm, leaving her French maniquered nails, and landing on the whiteboard she was pointing to.
The words were dotted messily around the whiteboard in a horrible pale red which was hard to read. Nevertheless, I picked up my navy blue fountain pen and pressed the nib to the lined paper, ready to write. My attention turned the board again. There was now no writing, I was too late. A quiet sigh escaped me, which caused Ruby to look at me strangely.
“I told you. You still had time.” She muttered, and then a bitter laugh escaped her glossed lips. “But, you know, it’s so hard to copy off a board after all. I don’t blame you.”
A slow smile spread across my face, causing my dry chapped lips to ache, but I didn’t mind. I looked her in her icy blue eyes and softly murmured “Thanks for understanding.”
The same icy blue eyes lingered on me for a second, unsure of what to do. At the end of that second the expression in them changed abruptly, I saw a flick of brown hair and heard her say harshly “Haven’t you ever heard of sarcasm?” She turned her back on me, her knobbly bones sticking out through her tight school blouse. She even shoved her plastic blue chair a few inches away from me until it touched the cold brown metal leg of the table, from where she could no longer move.
