I sit in the back of the classroom. On my own. All the tables around me are empty. Nobody wants to sit near me. Nobody dares to. Even the teachers never call on me for an answer or give me any work. This lesson is history. The teacher's saying something about how they used to accuse people of being witches and they'd try and drown you. If you were a witch then you'd be able to save yourself and if you weren't then you were a dead human. Wrong. If you were a witch, you were a dead witch. If you were a human, you were a dead human. That's why nobody actually managed to save themselves. Water burns witches to a frizzle. I should know: I am one. I'm so bored. I raise my hand.
"Yes Jasmine?" the teacher says. Everyone turns to stare at me. I give them all a venomous glance and they look away quickly.
"Can I go to the toilet?" I ask. The teacher nods and I walk out the door, my black heels clicking on the floor. I don't go to the toilet. I just wander about the corridors. I catch sight of myself in the plastic covering one of the noticeboards. My black heir hangs dead straight to my shoulders. My green eyed match my top. The bell goes and everyone crowds out of the classrooms. I slip into the girls toilets and wait for the crush to go past.