I have never considered myself worthy of being called a girl, the reason being is that I am not a girl who is obsessed with the colour pink and talks about boys all day. Nope. I am me, I am Blossom. Blossom Jaque. I am no one else. But, I most certainly am not a boy. When I say I don't consider myself a girl, that doesn't mean I consider myself a boy, not at all. I'm just a unique version of a girl. I'm not what society says I should be. I don't cry at sad films, I don't scream when I see an insect, I don't act like a girl. I'm like a Rubik's cube, I'm impossible to figure out, some would say.
People say to me, "Why do you act so strangely?" I become speechless and press my lips into a thin line, how is one supposed to answer such a straight forward yet odd question?
My life summed up into one question is rhetorical, it's not meant to be answered and if it is, then I haven't exactly found the answer out yet.
I go to an average secondary school and if you passed me on the street, you would straight away call me a 'tom boy' even though I am not. I just am not a 'barbie'.
I have one friend, Poppy. Poppy is worthy of being called a girl. She dresses like one, acts like one and is just a girl. The reason Poppy and I are friends is because her dad is best friends with her grandad, which caused us to meet and because 'opposites attract' we instictively became best friends. Poppy has huge brown eyes and short blonde hair to just above her shoulders and she is classified as a girl in society.
"Why is she with Blossom?" Is all Poppy and I heard the whole way through year seven, it was quite sad actually, being called a 'weirdo' for not strutting down the hallway like a model and flicking my hair conceitedly every five seconds. I'm over it, I have tried being a girl before, and it just didn't work out. It's not me.
I was currently walking to school, pulling up my sleeve and glancing at my brown watch that read 08:05am, I was going to miss the bus that left the city centre for school at ten past eight. I shifted my gaze from the ancient watch to the boy who was passing me, I have no idea how he was passing me as I am jogging as fast as I can without sweating. I do not want to smell going to school as my reputation would be even more doomed, if possible. The boy turned his head as he passed and sent me a small smile. I had no idea what to do, did this guy just smile at me?
"Ah- err.." I mumbled glancing at every aspect of the boy's exquisite face, it fascinated me. The boy held an amused glint in his eye before turning around and once again walking faster than me. I glanced down at my thin legs and started to curse them under my breath for being so short and slow. I then mentally hit myself for not making small talk with that boy.
I pulled my shoulder bag up as it was falling down and raced toward the bus stop, that was still two minutes away. I am fed up of missing my bus every Monday morning, it's so sickening.
"Wait, wait!" I shout after the huge red bus, that was turning on its indicators, to pull out of its parking space. I got a glimpse of the mysterious boy who passed me early, sitting in my seat. You might think it's crazy for me to say that the bus seat belongs to me; but it's not. I have sat in that seat every day that I didn't miss the bus since I was eleven. His facial expression was what surprised me, he wasn't giving me a rude look like everyone usually does, he was smiling cheekily. This confused me until I remembered - I'm quite slow - that I missed the bus becasue I'm slow at running.
"Crap," I muttered as I noticed a stall selling fruit, I woke up late so I never quite got to eat breakfast. I trudged toward the little stand and took my time looking for the best apple. I decided on a red one, I handed the elderly man a pound and he threw me the apple. I caught it - with little skill this surprised me - and smiled, showing my teeth. "Thank you."
"Of course," The guy says courteously as he nods his head and walks away. I breathe on the apple and then rub it against my school jumper, in an attempt to clean it. I then began walking the mile from the city centre to my school.
I took the last bite of the delicious piece of fruit as I approached the big school. I threw the core in the bin before opening the gate and walking down the narrow pathway to tutor class.
I opened my blue locker and threw my journal in, for English literature class, we had to either write in a journal for a full year or auditon for the part as Juliet in the school play 'Romeo and Juliet', and this seemed like the easier way out. I have been writing in it for three months now and everyday in English lesson, we write in it for ten minutes. I don't have English until fourth period so I left it in my locker until then.
"Blossom!" I hear an all too familiar voice call from down the hall, I rolled my eyes and made my way toward them.
"Poppy," I say with fake enthusiasm, Poppy glared at me as she's used to my bizarre behaviour.
"Let's just get to form tutor," Poppy says as she grabs my hand and drags me toward the classroom where children go to die, Mrs Kinney's class. She's our form tutor and she hates every one of us, which makes me question why she ever came to the idea to become a teacher.
We entered class late, but just in time for Mrs Kinney's words to come to our attention.
"We have a new student."
I shifted my gaze from Poppy's surprised gaze to the new kid, it was him.