An everyday love story, but in real life, does a love story have a happy ending?
OK, I can do this. Step 1, act confident, so walk like you own the place.
I walked through the rusting school gates, walking tall, head up, just in case he might be here early. However, the problem with walking tall with your head held high is that you can't really see the floor. Which is dangerous, because the paths in this hellhole have cracks and uneven tiles metres deep. I should have really seen this coming I thought, as I tripped on the uneven tiles and went headfirst, almost in slow motion, flying onto the floor. I didn't hurt myself phsically, but my pride was badly damaged.
I heard screams of laughter around me. I looked up to see some year 10s in hysterics, laughing at the idiot year 9 girl sprawled on the floor. I could have been dead and they would find it funny. I was still on the floor, so I hoisted myself up, and as I did so I spotted him. God, why do you hate me so much? Why did he have to be here? OK, hang on, it isn't too bad, at least he's not laughing... Oh God, he's coming over... Now, FOR GODS SAKE, ACT CONFIDENT... SMILE!!!
I bared my teeth at him, and he looked startled, so I quickly shut my mouth.
"Hiya, Roseanna, are you ok?" he asks, looking concerned
"Yeah, I'm fine" Oh God, my voice has just come out like the sound of a hamster being sat on. Lower your voice - act confident!
"I just tripped, that's all." Great, now I sound like I've got a cold. Ok, just laugh - make it sound like that was a joke. I laughed, and to my horror, out came the most high pitched bleat in the entire history of the world.
He laughed uncertainly, then mumbled "OK...Oh, would you look at the time....Well, see you later" And with that he scurried away, actually, he kind of ran away.
Oh God, now he probably thinks I'm a high-pitched bleating idiot with a cold and a mental disorder. So much for acting confident.