My story starts on a fresh September morning, on the first day of the new school year. I stand in front of my mirror, pulling at my mousy- brown, straightened hair, trying to make it go right. I never used to straighten my hair, but things have changed since last year. My baggy, unflattering school trousers have been replaced with a pencil skirt, my wild curls now ironed out, and in a high ponytail. I flick on some mascara, and grab my bag. I'm already late, but that's what everyone does, and most definately not the old me.

"Millie, are you having a lift or not!?" My mum yells up the stairs.

"Wait a minute!" I shout.

"No, I'm going now!"

"Ok!" I run down the stairs, my bag swinging, smiling because it should all be alright now. A new year, a new me, no more bullying.

How wrong could I have been?