As we walked down the road to my house, me and my best friend Georgia, that is, disscussing homework and other boring types of school things. To be honest, i would've rather talked about things like my boyfriend, my super annoying parents, and what i will wear to the next disco. The truth is, i didn't have any of that. I didn't have a boyfriend, i happened to love my parents, and i would never ever be allowed to go to a disco. Same goes to Georgia.
So there we were, walking peacefully down Woodstock Avenue, when Georgia elbowed me. Hard.
"Hey, check that out!" she pointed to a vast group of teenager girls. Like us.
Oh, who am i kidding!? Like us? They were wearing at least two pieces of Hollister, all had their feet covered with Converse, and Louis Vuitton bags. And that was just their every day clothing. i couldn't imagine what they wore on their weekend 'parties'... And we were... well, what can i say? I don't know about Georgia, but most of my belongings were from Primark (those of you who don't know what Primark is: it's the cheapest possible clothe shop. Sad, isn't it?). I compared myself to the group of rich kids. I was wearing my favourite stripy short sleeved top, a pair of plain black jeans, and grey trainers. My bag was ordinary; dark pink with blue swirls. My long, blonde hair tied in a simple pony tail. Then i looked at my friend: her short, dark curls hanging freely by her cheeks. She was clothed with a denim jacket, and a blue t-shirt underneath. Her legs were covered with plain black tights, and pink shorts on top. We happened to always wear the same shoes...
We got closer and closer to the huddle, curious about what was interesting enough to bother the spoilt kids. As we approached them, and managed to catch a glimpse, we found out the reason of their excitement. A new girl.
I heard someone call "Ketia! Get this!" but i couldn't see what she was meant to get. Ketia... i coulnd't understand why everyone adored her so much. New kids are usually brutally pushed around the playground and cornered and bruised. She was wearing a red leather jacket, as far as i can remember. And a pair of black jeans, and... heels? She must have, yes. Red and black wegdes, which made me automatically jealous. I grabbed Georgia's denim sleeve and mumbled, "let's go".
"Hey guys, get this!" someone shouted, "Looks like the two geeky chiks are trying to get some new friends! Awww..." Everyone laughed, at us of course. I couuld feel my face red-hot, and i tugged on Georgia's sleeve even harder. "Don't ya think ya can get away know!" I recongised the voice. It was Kandy Wright. She was just about to punch me in the face, when...
"Guys, don't diss these girls!' an American accent, i think it was. The type black people have, the cool type. Ketia, it must have been; i didn't recongise it as anybody else.
It was Ketia, after all. Her black hair, put into hundreds of tiny plaits, reaching half-way down her back. Her brown skin looked so flawless, so soft. Though i bet it was because she wore so much make-up. You could clearly see it. She walked up to us, her heels clicking on the pavement. "What's your name, huh?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "i - i'm Sara, and that's G- Georgia" i answered. I wasn't used to one of them talking to me. I found it terrifying, although i felt quite proud. She just nodded and walked away. So did we.
I could tell Georgia was in shock, as her usual un-stoppable mouth didn't moving once by the time we got home.
And that's how we met Ketia, who, as i later found out, turned out nothing but a bitch. It's now three years since the incident with Mike, and i still can't bare looking at her face. Let me explain...