It Was Meant To Be

Molly dreams of two things: getting into her first-choice university and finding true love. Music-loving slacker Zayn also dreams of two things:winning the battle of the bands- and winning Molly.He is determined to make her fall in love with him.

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3. I'm a Surviour

Chapter 3

I'm a Survivor

2 September, 7.49 a.m

Molly's POV

When Caitlin slams into my backpack running past me and screaming about Aruba, she doesn't even stop to say sorry. This is the way it's been between the beauties and the brains since like for ever.

I tell myself it'll all be over in nine months. Nine months, thirteen days and approximately eight hours. Not that I am counting or anything.

Those of us who got here early are penned up in the cafeteria until registration. Trying to sit like I could so not be any less concerned that I am sitting all by myself on the first day of senior year is just not working. I lean forward with my elbows still on the table. Then I sit back and try and sit straight on the un-comfortable bench. I really don't know where to put my hands to make them appear unconcerned. Shania’s not here yet, and Elizabeth went to the toilet. At least I have my sketchbook with me to calm me down.

My sketchbook is actually a combination archive of my artwork and designs, scrapbook of important events, and a collection of journal entries. But its main purpose is for me to practise my architectural sketches, so I can make a portfolio of my work for college applications. I want to be an urban planner, which means double-majoring in architecture and environmental science next year. This will hopefully occur at Oxford University. This is not exactly easy to get into. This is why I’ve been working like a maniac for the past three years. My motivation for for kicking academic butt is to escape this middle-of-nowhere town in Bradford, this realm of nothingness. Living in Oxford will be the ultimate existence. Anyway, I take my sketchbook everywhere I go. I sketch whatever inspires me. You never know when it will happen.

I decide that it's important enough to document my first-day-back thoughts. I turn to the next blank page. I sneak glances at everyone around me. They're all running around frantically, acting like they care what everyone else did over the summer. I hate myself for caring that no one comes over to my table to talk to me.

Not like I expect them to suddenly realize I'm alive. I'm used to being invisible. Why does it still bother me? Why does it even matter if Caitlin + Co treat me like I don't exist? I have real friends- two of them- which is more than most people get to have. I've been telling myself to get over it for years. And I'll never achieve inner peace if I don't. So I really need to move on.

But I can't.

Plus, how can I survive another year of the same expectations and stress? And if I see Joe Zedepski drop his calculator one more time I swear I will lose it. Just put your calculator in the middle of your desk instead of right at the edge where you know it'll fall off. How hard is that?

I try to visualize my future life. The place where everything feels right and good things always happen and I can be the person I want to be. I imagine my ideal, completely confident self in a pink bubble, floating into space, letting the universe make it happen.

But my visualization skills are working at less than maximum efficiency today. Because it's time for regi and first impressions are everything.

I'm a nervous wreck.

I peek into the room, pretending to be waiting for someone. At least Andrew's not in here. But a lot of his friends are, like Caitlin and Alex. If I manage to come off as cool, or at least as someone with a sense of style, it'll get back to him. Then maybe he'll ask me out. But if I act like a dork in any way, he'll know about by third period. This is a small school, and word gets around fast. This school is way too small for anyone to even think they can keep something to themselves.

I walk in with shaky legs. I find a seat and I pretend to look for something in my bag.

''OK, people!'' Ms Picoult yells. ''Your timetables are ready! Come on up!''

Ten seconds later, her desk is completely surrounded by kids complaining that their timetables are messed up and demanding to see a guidance teacher. Ms Picoult yells that no one is to enter the guidance office until lunch. Chaos happens as a result. Snarly seniors rant that the people who programme classes have no skills.

I move to the front of the room. My schedule is the only one left on her desk. I pick it up, expecting the worse. Miraculously, it looks OK.

But of course there's a problem. It's the curse of first-period gym. I've had gym first period every year. I've tried to get out of it before, and there's no way. They just tell you that all the other classes are full and this is the way it is and there's nothing you can do about it. So now I get to experience the thrilling sensation of sitting around in my seaty underwear all day for a whole other year. Fun times.

I sit down to fill out the seventy-three forms we have to do. Caitlin's sitting next to me, filling out her forms and talking to her posse. After a few minutes, she suddenly turns around and stares at my kneesocks. I only tried on a million outfits last night before I decided on these retro kneesocks and my new denim skirt and my favourite sky-blue T-shirts.

I go,''Hey''

Caitlin looks right through me like I'm not even there. Then she turns back to her friends. One of them laughs.

I raise my hand to go to the bathroom.

In the hall, some seniors are huddled together, clearly too cool for the dull class of regi. I'm about to walk right by them. But then I notice Andrew is one of them.

I freeze.

Should I go up to him and say hi? Or just walk by and wave? If I don't do something now, I probably won't see him for the rest of the day. And I can't stand not knowing if he likes me. But look what just happened with Caitlin. She obviously thinks I'm lacking. Now if I go up to Andrew, it could be catastrophic.

I'm still debating what to do when Andrew and his group walk down the hall, away from me. He never even saw me standing there.

My life is over, and it's not even first period yet.

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