Staring across the silent, stuffy room, I stifled a yawn.
Dougie smiled. “I told you we didn’t need to get here this early,” he said, without looking up from the leaflets he was defacing.
I didn’t want to admit it, but he was probably right. The caretaker had looked quite surprised when he’d opened the gates and found the two of us waiting outside.
“I just wanted to make a good impression,” I explained.
He laughed. “Well there’s no one here to make a good impression on.”
“At least we got the comfy seats,” I said and leaned back into the cushion to emphasize my point.
“Yep, nothing worse than a hard seat on your first day of college,” Dougie joked. He put down his pen and pushed the leaflets into the centre of the round table we were both sitting at.
I gave him a sarcastic smile before checking the time on my watch. Eight-twenty. Surely people would be arriving soon.
Fine, I admit that getting to college at eight am was probably overdoing it a bit, but I really did want to make a good impression. Initially, Dougie had been against the idea due to his love of lie-ins, but I’d soon changed his mind by reiterating the reason why I wanted to be noticed.
In my old school I was kind of a loner. Not that I’m proud to admit it, but I guess that’s how all the other kids would have labelled me. I didn’t really have any friends as such; I suppose you’d call them acquaintances really. They were people I talked to in lessons, but had nothing else to do with outside of them.
Dougie, my friend of almost fifteen years, is the only real friend I’ve ever had. He’s great at video games and boring Sunday afternoons just flyby when I’m with him, but I’m in serious need of a willing shopping partner; I have never known someone to moan so much on one shopping trip.
Hearing a chair scrape back across the thinning grey carpet, I looked up from where I had been staring at the table. Dougie had stood up.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To the toilet,” he replied, as he moved to leave.
I panicked. “But you can’t leave me here all by myself!”
“And why not?” He smiled, obviously keen to hear my pathetic reasoning.
“Because if anybody walks in and sees me on my own, they’ll think I’m some sort of friendless loser and it’ll start all over again,” I pleaded, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.
Dougie seemed to contemplate what I’d just said for a moment before sighing and sitting back down at the table.
“Thank you,” I said, beaming. My heart rate began to slow back down to its usual pace.
“If I wet myself, I’m holding you responsible,” he said, trying to sound serious.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The room returned to silence so I looked back down at my watch. Realising that it was almost eight-thirty, my heart began to quicken its pace again. I started tapping my feet nervously under the table and playing self-consciously with the hem of my shirt.
“Is that a new top?” Dougie asked.
“Uh, no,” I replied, giving him a half smile. “I found it at the back of my wardrobe.” Well actually it had been the only thing left in my wardrobe by the time I had thrown everything else onto my bed in the “unwearable” pile.
“Oh.” He nodded. “I didn’t think I’d seen it before.”
“No, I think this is the first time I’ve worn it, actually.” With that, I lifted my hand to the back of my neck to make sure that the price tag wasn’t still attached. Thankfully it wasn’t.
Just then, the door opened and people began to file in. Some looked nervous while others were in groups and already engaged in conversation.
It felt strange to look around and recognise only Dougie out of the sea of faces that now filled the once-silent common room. Even though my heart felt ready to explode with anxiety, it still seemed exciting to think that anyone of these people could become my new best friend. Well, except her maybe. Lets face it. I know my limits and making friends with someone who looked as if she’d just stepped out of the cover of a fashion magazine, wasn’t really possible. I looked over at Dougie to see him staring in the same direction as Britain’s future top model. I sighed, which brought Dougie’s attention back to me.
“Well we all know who she is, don’t we?” he smirked, raising an auburn eyebrow at me.
“No,” I replied, confused.
He rolled his eyes. “The queen bee.”
“Oh.” I nodded weakly. “She doesn’t look that bad.”
“Are you blind?” He laughed and leaned in closer. “Too much make-up, a skirt that’s way too short and a clone on either side. It makes sense to me.”
I looked back over at her then, to see that he was right. She was flanked on either side by two almost identical girls. The only difference was that her two “clones” as Dougie had called them, were both platinum blonde and she had locks of chestnut hair falling to just below her shoulders.
“Maybe she just likes following fashion?” I tried feebly.
“Yeah, and I’m the worlds greatest footballer,” he replied, rolling his eyes again. He was right. He does suck at football.
“Well maybe I’ll go talk to her and find out then, shall I?”
Dougie looked at me in disbelief before folding his arms.
“Earth to Imo! I thought you hated the whole ‘girly-girl, bitchy, stuck-up vibe.’ You know, ever since what happened between you and Mandy Grey.”
“Okay!” I exclaimed, hands raised off the table. “We don’t need to go into that.”
“If you say so,” he said with a sideways glance.
“What if she’s different?” I continued, placing my hands back onto the table and raising my eyebrows.
“You never were one to be judgemental, were you?” Dougie sighed and leaned back in his cushioned chair.
“Nope,” I said and stole another glance at the subject of our conversation who was now sitting over by the television.
“Well don’t come crying to me when you find out that she’s just another snotty, rich kid, who likes to be the colour of an orangutan on a regular basis.”
“I won’t,” I said and smiled defiantly.
As I made to get up he said, “May God be with you,” and smirked, putting his hands together as if he were about to pray.
“You’ll see!” I called, scooting around the table to make my way over to her.
Halfway across the room, my brain finally came to life. What the hell am I doing? This is social suicide. Why am I so stupid?
Panicking, I tried to stop myself from walking forward, but my legs weren’t listening. They just kept moving me until, regrettably, I was only meters away. What have I let myself in for? My first day of college and I’m already going to become a targeted loser by the popular crowd. Grimacing, I tried to slow my frantic heart beat, but it was as if my whole body had decided to ignore me. My heart felt as if it were about to break free from my rib cage as I took another tense step forward. There was no backing out now, Dougie was bound to be watching.
“Hey, move outta the way!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.
I spun around and saw a group of boys sitting on bean bags, looking very unimpressed.
“Yeah, you’re in the way of the screen!” another exclaimed and I finally gathered that they were talking to me.
I felt myself blush and, as I ducked clumsily out of the way of the TV, I managing to get my feet caught around the strap of someone’s bag. Not good. All of a sudden the floor seemed to be rising up and it was only when I felt my face hit something solid, that I realised I had fallen over.
Sprawled on the carpet, I felt everyone’s eyes on me. No doubt Dougie was laughing and he had a right to. He had tried to warn me that this was a waste of time. Feeling utterly mortified and with my face aching from where it had smacked into the floor, I scrambled to my feet only to come face to face with the most flawless visage I had ever seen. Her skin was completely free of freckles and pimples and her chocolate brown eyes looked up at me from under thick, mascara-coated lashes. Feeling my face getting even hotter, I turned to flee, only to realise that one of my feet was still tangled in that bag strap. I bent down awkwardly and unhooked my foot from the piece of material. When I straightened up she was smiling at me. Not nastily or mockingly, but in a friendly way. I smiled meekly in return as I was about to leave, only to be stopped by a kindly voice.
“Hi,” she began, still smiling. “Are you alright?”
She’s talking to me? I must have a concussion. Sensing that I should reply, I pulled my shirt down from where it had ridden up to my stomach and shrugged.
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Good. I suppose it was my fault for leaving my bag in the middle of the floor,” she said, her smile turning apologetic.
“It wasn’t your fault. I should have been looking where I was going,” I replied.
A short silence followed. I took a step backwards.
“I love your top,” the brown-haired girl said, her smile bright.
Did she just compliment my fashion sense? “Thanks,” I mumbled, pulling at the hem again self-consciously.
“Where did you get it?”
“Uh, it’s kind of old actually,” I replied, only then becoming aware that her two clones had reappeared at her side. The one to her left had her long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and the other had her hair flowing loosely down to the middle of her back. Extensions no less.
“Well, it’s really nice and mega trendy.”
“Yeah, checks are so in,” the girl with the ponytail said with a smile.
“And the blue so matches your eyes, don’t you think Tiffany?”
“Totally,” the girl with the extensions added without hesitation.
“Uh thanks.” I smiled. They don’t seem that bad.
“Say,” the lead girl started, “what class have you got next?”
Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, I pulled out the paper with all my lessons written on. “English literature,” I replied, hoping that wasn’t the wrong thing to say. I jumped at her response.
“Oh my God, me too!” she exclaimed. “What teacher do you have?”
My hands were still shaking slightly as I tried to read the impossibly small text in front of my eyes. “Keats I think.”
The three girls started to laugh and I could feel my blush returning.
“No silly,” the chestnut haired girl said with a patient smile. “That’s the name of the building. Here, let me see.” As I handed her the paper I noticed the bright pink colour of her nail polish. “Yay!” she said, after only a single glance at the paper. “You’ve got Mr Gallagher too.”
“Is that good?” I asked and took the paper back from her.
“If you don’t mind being in the same class as me,” she replied, bending down to pick up her bag.
“No, I mean, that’s great,” I said with a smile.
“Good. Well go and get your bag and you can walk to class with us,” she said, returning the grin.
Nodding, I turned and carefully made my way back across to Dougie, who had now been joined by some other boys I didn’t recognise. I was about to pick up my bag when he spoke.
“Managed to fall over and embarrass yourself in front of everyone then,” he said with a smirk, although I knew he was joking.
“You know me,” I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“You don’t seem that bothered though,” he stated, raising an eyebrow at me skeptically. “So where are you going?”
“I’m walking to class with them,” I said, giving him the smuggest of all looks.
“No way!”
“Uh huh,” I said. “I’ll see you at break.”
“Sure, just don’t get too carried away. They could be planning on locking you in a cupboard or something.”
“Ha-ha, very funny!” I called as I turned to find what I hoped would turn out to be my new - and popular - friends.
