So What If I Cry

The tears fall thick and fast as usual, she wonders if she'll ever stop crying. The hurt will only stop if she gets away from here. But she can't. She can't even fight back. She's too tired even to say, 'So What If I Cry?'.

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5. Alone

I awoke with a start, feeling a sudden stab on my shoulder. It was Pamala, one of the girls from the other forms, jabbing me in the shoulder with her pencil. Disregarding the fact that there were nicer ways to wake people, I listened to what she had to say.

"Come on, bell's gone already." She said in a slightly grumpy voice. I simply nodded absent-mindedly and stood as she left. It was lesson time now, the only problem was, I couldn't remember what lesson I had now! Praying I wouldn't be late, I began to run almost, scrambling all the while in my pocket for my timetable. Finally, I found it, and deflated visibly as I read in black and white that I had Technology next. My Tech teacher wasn't exactly the most understanding, forgiving, or fully-present person. I've heard stories about him, not very nice ones. Maybe I'll have time for them later. I stumbled all the way to the jumble sale of a technology classroom, and stepped inside.

 

"You're late." Mr Harrison's stern voice informed me. Like I didn't know it already...

"Sir, I-" I began, but he cut me off.

"I don't want to hear it! Sit down, you have detention at the end of the day in here. And don't even think about making yourself scarce..." I sighed inwardly and took my stool. It was the second term in school, we were coming toward the end of the first half of it, and I'd had Graphics Technology already. The teacher was kind, and not in the least similar to Mr Harrison, and the class was something I could actually do. But I hated 'Resistant Materials' Technology (some would call it woodwork, just to annoy Mr Harrison), I had a teacher who didn't know half of what he was teaching, and couldn't handle a class of 10, let alone our class of 27. My strong point had always been my lessons, and if I wasn't learning in them, I didn't have that to hang on to. Of course, I had always been hopeless at P.E. but that never bothered me, even though the reasons behind it did.

 

When I said I was troubled, I meant it. It's been happening ever since the beginning of last year, my final year in primary school, and two boys decided they wanted to bully me, and I can't see why, I've never done wrong to them. At first, I could deal with it. but then it got harder and harder, until I was halfway to what I am now. If I talk about what got me the rest of way now, then I don't know what'll happen, so I won't.

 

Working in that class was hard for another reason-I was the only one from my form there. I didn't know anyone else, I'm not exactly socially-inclined... I felt alone, especially after the company of Andrew, which had filled a large, very hollow, long-empty, hole. Nevertheless, I worked, knowing that, as usual, there would always be more to do, never good enough. At least this afternoon's lessons were a bit more 'busy'. For once, I was glad there was only time for work.

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