by Abigail Peirce

Created on: July 14, 2008

Tell!

Everyone has those moments during secondary school where they wish the ground would just swallow them whole. There are always those stereotypical perfect popular people who get the best of both worlds. Who have. That perfect style. That perfect smile. That perfect skin? But are they really the people who will go far in this life? Out of a hundred populars' how many of them are academic? How many of them will achieve? And how many of them are guaranteed to stamp their mark on this world?

Not many I hear you state, well that's where this story is grafted to a different path. In every school you have the cliques, but in this school, my school, after a tragic turn of events, the tables are turned, and the populars, well they didn't quite exist anymore, well not as you or I would know them. But it wasn't just the populars, the wannabes, the normals, the social outcasts and the geeks, they all went the same way, and no, they didn't disappear, they changed, this isn't a fictional story, its my life and it contains problems that the average teenager like me, faces on a daily basis, but to reach the end, I have to take you back to the beginning, right back to where it all started.
It was a clear autumnal day at the beginning of a new school year. But as I stepped over the school threshold leaving the quiet streets behind me and entering the bustling atmosphere of the school, I realised I was back in the same place I'd been to every day for the last three years, back to the everlasting taunting and the ever memorable teasing. I was different from everyone else; I didn't fit in with the geeks or the social outcasts. I didn't fit in with the normals or the wannabes, and my place in school certainly didn't fall within the popular crowd. I'm a freak. A Target.
Being bullied was something that I was used to, you only had to look at me and you'd know I was an easy target, second hand uniform, dishwater greyish-blonde hair, which came down way beyond my middle back, always tied in the same hap-hazardly way, two plaits with an uneven parting, thick lenses housed in thick black glasses frames, freckles and faint aroma of chlorine which permeated everything I owned. I come from a poor background, and the reason I smelled of chlorine was because every thing in our tiny one bed roomed flat did, you see, my dads the pool maintenance guy at the local Leisure Centre and there's no storage for the pool cleaning and maintenance stuff so its kept in the living room next to my pull

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