Confined Shaming

Alice Smith wasn't one for adventures or hilarity or terror or anything with a purpose. She felt content sitting at home everyday, recording her thoughts into a journal.
But what if one day everything you new fell apart? What if one day you had to choose which path to take?


1. Alice's Journal

Dear diary,

Today was different. An actual change. I ate lunch outside of the cafeteria with Bonny. We sat outside in the field whilst munching on our cheese sandwiches. It wasn't a big difference, but I feel as if it is a path widening into a sea of change. I am no longer going to be the shadow girl, but things are so easy that way. I don't have to keep up with the latest trend, I don't need a new phone, I don't need to worry about keeping track of Instagram likes. All I need to do is keep my journal from harm's way and jot down everything. My thoughts. 

Oh, diary. Oh, oh, oh. I've picked up fiction again, less thoughts spent thinking about how dreadful it went last time. My mind is set forward, and I intend keeping up to scratch and hitting high above my own set standards.

Alice dropped her pen and threw her journal to the side of her bed. She sat up, tousled her hair and stretched. Was this really the third day after school she had stayed in bed? Really? Was she that much of a disappointing friend that she couldn't even breath a tiny bit of fresh air to have a good time? 

Alice thought about calling up her friends and going to the lake, after all it was such a hot day. They visited the lake quite recently, but were shooed away after the popular people from Robertson High showed up. They weren't intimidating or anything, and surely enough some of them didn't care if they were there, just Alice preferred staying at her side of the school. Popular's and unpopular's never mix. Ever.

So after brushing away the lake idea, Alice got out of bed and tied her long blonde hair into a high ponytail. She wasn't ugly or anything, she didn't think so, trying to sound as least modest as she possibly could. 

Alice looked in the mirror, poured some moisturiser over her inflamed cheeks and studied her face. Blonde hair, brown eyes, pale skin. All situated on a heart shaped face. Some people told her how she looked like a young blonder Kiera Knightly, or even sometimes young blonde Jessica Alba. Alice didn't see how those two compared to each other let along herself. But she took the compliment and moved on every single time.

If only people at school thought the same, especially the boys. She just wanted to feel accepted and even sometimes a little challenged. But the other truth was she liked how she was. Easy going and not caring. Popularity shouldn't define who you are.

"Popularity shouldn't have a say in who likes who," Alice said the next morning in English class. "It tears people down and rises some to power. But what if the same thing was done with say... hair colour? Or maybe gender? Age? Would you all be as smug as you are now?"

It was a class presentation about modern issues. Most people focused on things liked obesity and pollution, Alice had opted for something closer to home. 

"Very good, Alice, maybe next time you can focus on something a little more... Oh, I don't know, suitable?" Mrs Jackson commented.

Some kids blew raspberries, others laughed, some took on-board Alice's words and sat there thinking carefully. The next presentation was on X-box games. Alice zoned out.

She started thinking about the new girl in her class, also fifteen, with blonde hair and brown eyes. They had some recognisable identical features, but other things were way off. Starting with their eyes and hair, both exactly the same. Both with pale skin and small bodies. But this girl was sometimes wore glasses, her lips were fuller, her hips were wider, her figure was more drool-worthy as some of the boys had already noticed. 

Alice heard the teacher say her name in the register, Grace Willings. From Australia. It was strange having an Australian girl in an English school. She didn't speak the same as everyone else, but Alice thought her accent was magnificent, so she went home to write about it.

Dear diary,

We have a new girl, Grace. She's pretty and all, just her face looks like me. Her body certainly does not. But she seems nice enough, I would love to talk to her and find out how it is down under. That came off a little stereotypical. Not everyone asked that today, some people did, others complained that it was racist and wanted to change classes. Mrs Jackson has learned to deal with these stupid people. But I haven't. They frustrate me. Don't make fun of others when the hardest word in your personal dictionary is elephant.

You make think I am joking, or think of me purely mean, but these certain people haven't treated me nicely ever since I came to Robertson High back in 2009. It has been five years, do people not get that? I guess not. A lot of people don't get a lot of things.


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