His Heartwarming Secret

I weave my way past the crowds, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. I've practically memorised the route to my locker without having to lift my head up once to check my surroundings. Skills, right?

As quick as a flash, a pair of bright trainers come into view and I stop abruptly to avoid crashing into them.

"Ew, why are you walking like that?" A high pitch voice fills the air causing me to freeze. I glance up nervously and meet eyes with someone I never thought I'd cross paths with. My eyes widen and I begin to stutter incoherent words, already backing away.

No way is this happening to me.

I refuse to believe it.

Its no other than Beatrice Walden.

Beatrice Walden doesn't know the meaning of the word unpopular. Ever since I've known her, she's always been surrounded by her so called friends. She's the mean girl, alpha female, class A bitch of Heywood High. She's also one of the highest members of the Popular's. The social group who walk the corridors thinking they own the entire school. The people who laugh, sneer and joke about their less popular peers.

She reaches up with her hands, running a perfectly manicured nail through her dark locks. Her hair is always curled to perfection, makeup immaculately done alongside it. When she isn't snarling or teasing people, some would dare say Beatrice Walden is pretty.

up as she notices me and she lets out a heavy sigh, almost as if I'm the

feel myself disappear inside myself. I shrink back against the wall, too stunned to speak. It feels like my tongue is being held hostage,

eyes at me, sick smirks on their faces. I can feel the tight hold on

speak

into laughter. It fills the air and bounces off the walls in the corridor and I flinch, my throat tightening until it becomes difficult to breathe. I quickly dodge to the side and force my legs to scurry down the corridor, my head hung low. My cheeks burn with heat

It's

to empty, crowds of students disappearing. I reach my locker and rest my back on it, closing my eyes to take a second to

In, out, breathe. In, out, breathe.

breathing can suddenly become such

further and further until it feels like your gasping for an ounce of oxygen scares

I need it and to have my back against people like Beatrice Walden. Growing up I wished for a twin sibling to keep me company. The thought of having someone to lean on, talk to, laugh and bond with has my eyes glazing over in fresh tears. Whenever Dad or Jedd question my lack of friends I wave it off and act like it doesn't phase me. The harsh reality of the situation is that

I don't know how to

*****

stands from their seats, the chatter in the room rising quickly. English is finally over

least favourite

the sport skills of