A Hundred Types of Hurt

Millard Elliston and Kyra Ridley, both fifteen, are two completely different people from different parts of Australia. Millard is a country boy from Hughenden, Queensland, who wants to take after his dad, a cattle farmer. Kyra is a girl from Wodonga who wishes to become a singing sensation. When the two end up moving into Melbourne and going to the same school, the both of them are hit by different types of bullies from every direction. And when they finally meet, they find they have some chemistry and work together to hit back at the bullies. After all, opposites attract. Right?

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7. Millard

The night before school. Once again, I found myself incapable of sleeping. What chance did I have of making friends? Would there be someone who would bully me? What about Mrs Honeysett? Could she be even scarier than already thought?

The night seemed to pass by yet again. The clouds crept across the sky and the stars and moon all gleamed brightly. It was beautiful.

If only that could help.

Night eventually went and daylight returned. Mum woke me up, as usual. I entered the kitchen and grabbed breakfast. Blah, blah, blah, all the usual before-school crap. And as we got into the car, I began looking out the window as usual.

I noticed Kyra and the younger boy getting into their car. For a moment, her glance turned toward our car before she got in theirs. What school would they be going to? Not that it mattered.

 

Whenever we're taking a drive, no matter how short or long, I enjoy just sitting back and looking out the window, checking out the moving scenery, the trees and animals and other such beautiful things. I remember one time noticing, for one second, two kangaroos fighting each other. It looked pretty much even stevens, but a second isn't long enough.

But this time, there were no boxing roos or majestic trees. Just houses, houses and more houses. Colourful, but boring. Different colours, but they all looked the same. Not like trees. No two trees are the same. Up to a million houses can have the exact same structure. Perhaps even tens of millions.

Seemed like hours until we reached the school. I checked the little clock on the dashboard, which tells not only the time, but also the date, to make sure it wasn't years. I was already quite certain, but you can never be too sure. It's the only clock on any car I've ever been in that also tells the date. I still think a calender's better. At least you can move a calender without dragging two tonnes of steel with it.

The school seemed different to what it was when we were there the other day. The paint was no longer peeling, but fresh. No litter on the grounds. And it was no longer empty. There were heaps of kids, all shapes and sizes, in every type of group possible.

But I didn't see any that I felt I would fit in with.

As we walked through the gate into the school, Tessa went to the nearest all-girl group and started chatting with them like they had known each other since kindergarten. One boy, approximately Neville's age, asked Neville to go play with him. That left me on my own, feeling like a loser.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one fat, ugly kid who was as visible as a black sheep in among white sheep. I tried to make it look like I wasn't looking at him, but I realised HE was looking at ME, and he didn't look too friendly. Nor did he look like someone who ever exercised, more likely someone who spent his day eating heaps of sugar and playing video games.

Once I placed my bag in my locker and the bell went, I realised I had no idea where I was meant to be. There were so many rooms.

"Are you alright?"

I turned to face a very beautiful teacher. The last thing I expected. Nice glasses, a brunette. That almost distracted me from the question she asked.

"Oh, I'm uh... fine. Trying to find my form room."

The teacher then studied the papers she was holding. "Would you happen to be Millard Elliston?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You're in my form room, Millard. Come with me."

I had no choice. It would be embarrassing, walking with a teacher, but I couldn't do anything else. On the way, the teacher mentioned to me she was Ms. Hearn, and asked one or two questions about where I was from.

Once we reached the form room, I couldn't see a single seat that wasn't taken.

Except for one. And I realised the person sitting next to it was all too familiar.

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