Looking for love

Why does love have to be so complicated...

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2. Him again...

I'm sitting all alone in the form room watching the rain trickle down onto the window. From up here I can see girls like Anna Friskwater and Rya Levley gossiping in a corner. Yuk. I see a gang of boys playfighting. They all have blood trickling down their noses. Even worse. In the far distance I see a group of boys playing football. Their t shirts are mud stained and their hair is dripping. By the side of the pitch some boys are having an argument. And then there's....

Him.

He's standing by the side of the pitch, his damp chocolate brown hair tossed to one side, his bright blue eyes gleaming and his rare sideways smile beaming which makes your heart flip and run right out of your chest. He's leaning on a bench and for a moment there he looks up, and I think he's seen me. I want to duck but he's looking straight past me, like I'm invisible, not there.

Does anyone think differently?

For all I care, I really am invisible. So? It's not like I've tried to make an impression. I'm not one of your everyday gossip girls that hang about in a corner plaiting someone's hair and talking about cute boys. I'm not really a tomboy either, like Faye Martin who can probably run a mile in 8 minutes. No way. I don't really know who I am....I don't really have an identity.

I'm good at RE, but everyone knows that already. I love the way people express their emotions and true feelings in their beliefs. I don't really support a religion, but I know a lot about other religions. No one really cares about RE anyway. They just think it's a load of rubbish about some people who have random opinions. I'm not going to go into much detail about what exactly they say.

RE is probably the only lesson I contribute to. Other than that, I just sit in class sketching in my rough book. Before he died, granddad used to teach me how to paint using oil pastels. It was so much fun. He was such a good artist and some people say I take after him. Though they're just being nice. My sketches really are rubbish.

It's not like the teacher cares what I do. They just stand there reading from a tatty textbook which sixth form chirldren have scribbled across, whilst their 'eager to learn' pupils scrawl swear words on the walls and tables. Trust me, I have nothing to do with that.

My time alone is coming to an end when the bell rings and girls like Anna rush in so as not to get their 'best curls wet'. The boys take their time in coming and Anna's waiting for him, the boy that I've had my eyes on since the very first day I'd met him. She pulls him this sickly, devilishly evil smile which makes me want to bring out a sick bucket. She tucks a curl gently behind her ear and walks into the building. I pretend I've been waiting outside by the corridor and when she sees me she pulls a face like I'm some maggot.

"Look who it is," she says. "Hello, Jasmine."

She says my name like it's a swear word. I want to cry but I realise I can't because its Sam, him, and he's looking straight into my eyes. I look at the ground and pretend I wasn't really noticing but suddenly he turns to me and says, "Hiya Jasmine."

His voice could melt my heart. Soft, sweet, and not like how Anna said it. Like he cared. He actually noticed me! I turned to him and smiled. He smiled back. Anna was finding this hard to take in. She scowled and tossed her hair and tried to grab the attention. But Sam was looking at me.

"Come on Sam, Rya's back," said Anna.

"Oh okay," said Sam. He turned to me. "Laters, Jasmine."

I loved the way he said Jasmine. As he walked away I could feel my heart leap into heaven. This was the happiest day of my life.

And all thanks to Anna.

I'm Jasmine Kayzalki, by the way, and welcome to my life.

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