“McKenzie?”

I look up at her through the curtain of my brown hair before answering.

“Yes?” I can’t keep the annoyance out of my voice. They always pick on me. I didn’t even have my hand up, but they always pick on me. Doesn’t matter where I sit or what I do, they always pick on me.

“What is the answer?” She starts walking closer to my desk. All she’s going to find is an empty page of graph paper where I was supposed to write the answers to the questions on the board. My eyes flutter to the interactive whiteboard to find a blank screen. What was her question?

“Do you want me to repeat the question?” I grind my teeth together at her patronising voice. Why do teachers always assume their better than the students? I wrote the book currently peeking out Stacey’s bag and she’s patronising me? But then she doesn’t know that, none of them do. How could they? It’s not my name on the cover.

Slouching back in my seat, I meet everyone’s gawking gaze before returning my attention back to Mrs Bloom. “Why bother? I wasn’t listening the first time, what makes you think I’m going to be listening the second time round?” I say in a bored tone and watch her blink in surprise.

Her gaze rips through me but I keep my gaze indifferent. That look doesn’t make me cringe anymore.

“Miranda, what’s the answer?” She turns her steely gaze to the girl sitting in front of me. Miranda glances at me, and answers meekly before hunching over her desk hiding behind her own hair. I can sympathise with the girl, having everyone’s attention on you like that can make you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. I’ve been on the TV so many times now it doesn’t bother me anymore, but I know what it feels like and I feel for her.

Mrs Bloom’s voice becomes a buzz in the background as I focus on the music coming through the earphone I’ve got in my ear. My hair covers the wire well, but I’m still lucky she didn’t see it. My finger taps to the beat of the song and I stifle the yawn that wants to take over. Allowing my head to tilt forward, I close my eyes while my body relaxes into the hard plastic chair.

“Miss Prince!”

I jolt upright in my chair and look up at the very unhappy teacher standing over me.

“Am I boring you?”

“I’m asleep in the middle of the day, sitting upright in an uncomfortable chair. What do you think?” I blink and internally wince. I need to learn to keep my lips zippered.

The group of guys that sit on the other end of the back row start sniggering but then cough to make it less obvious. At least they find this amusing.

“Excuse me?” She looks at me with a look of disbelief but then outrage at my choice of words.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Shoot. Me. Now.

Just when I think the sixty year old in front of me is going to blow a fuse, the bell rings sending everyone scrambling to get their books and belongings.

In the chaos I manage to slip out the door without another word from Mrs Bloom. One day my mouth is going to get me in worse trouble than an after school detention I’m probably going to get handed when I next walk in there.

I loathe the journey between classes. Walking down a hallway packed to the walls with students, all elbowing each other to get to their next class makes me feel claustrophobic and volatile.

I walk against the wall, occasionally slipping through a crowd slowly piling into a classroom.

Every teenager goes through a stage where they think school is hell on earth; I haven’t finished that stage yet. I’m still the girl that sulks at the back of the class. Though I don’t blame the world, I blame the name that’s written on the book stuffed into Stacey’s bag and recently been added to the school’s library.

Just as I’m about to slip into the girl’s bathroom, someone slams into my shoulder, crushing me against the wall and sending my head sideways to slam painfully against the plaster, narrowly missing the framed picture on the wall. I expect them to turn around and apologise profoundly, instead they lurch into the swarm of students before I can identify them. The sudden loss of their weight pinning me to the wall sends me sprawling across the filthy hard floor. There are a few yelps of surprise as well as a large amount of laughing while I struggle to get to my feet with a pounding pain in my head and an intense pain in my shoulder. So maybe this wasn’t an accident… I think sarcastically as I stumble into the empty bathroom.

In the mirror I find a large lump on the side of my head and then when I take my shirt off to reveal my tank top, find an angry looking bruise forming on my shoulder and part ways to my elbow.

The worst part about all of this is I don’t know who did it. If I do find out though, I’ll give them a black eye to remember.

***

When I walk into class, the teacher takes one look at my head before sending me to the nurse’s calling me ‘stupid’ for not going straight away.

I sit in the chair with an ice pack on my head while listening to the music coming through my earphone. Surprisingly it doesn’t hurt my head. When the door rebounds against the wall hard enough to crack concrete, the pain in my head spikes leaving me to wince and watch as Gina comes into the room in her games kit with a bloody nose dripping crimson down the front of her shirt. I wonder if she’s left a trail of blood all the way here… `

“Wow.”

“Shut it Ken.” Her lip curls and glowers as she’s guided to sit on the bed across the room by the nurse.

We used to be friends. She’s one of the few people in the school that call me Ken; everyone called me that in our group of friends. Then they skipped out on me, she was the first person to up and abandon me. Not before completely humiliating me by posting embarrassing pictures of me on the internet.

“What happened?” I ask as I pop a couple of pieces of gum into my mouth.

“Football.” Her nasally voice makes me smile.

“You never play.”

She always gets out of playing because she hates it, she’s like me, crafty.

“No shit Sherlock! I got hit with one!” She sneers and I roll my eyes.

“Who spat in your coffee?” I say it under my breath but she still hears it and turns her murderous gaze on me.

“You did when you opened that big fat gob of yours! Keep your trap shut Ken or you’ll regret it.”

The nurse says nothing as she fixes up Gina’s nose. Neither Gina nor I speak until she’s about to leave.

“You know who body slammed me against the wall?” I raise my eyes brows.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to tell you anything.” She stomps out the room leaving me to shake my head. How was I ever friends with her?