As I come in from lunch, headed towards my next class, I see a group of kids re-enter the building. I guess they could be called beautiful, but everyone still watched after me.
I glide into the math class, and ilicite the usual response. This is my chance to show that I am not just a pretty face. I actually have a brain, unlike the steryotype people usually clump me under.
I look around the class, thankfully, it is mostly empty. There is, however, the clique of kids I saw coming in from lunch. They are all sitting in the back. They all look over at me, and watch as I walk over to the teacher. He seems busy. I say, "Hello, my name is Vashti. I am new." He glances up, a slightly crazed look in his eye.
He looks me over twice, then waves me to a seat. I have a choice of either one in the back by the Clique, or in the front, surrounded by boys on all sides. At least they are normal boys. pimples dotting their faces. Blood rushing up when they see me staring at them. I pick that seat.
I can't stand Elite groups.