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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1965236-So-Not-Normal
Rated: ASR · Chapter · Teen · #1965236
So this is my second chapter of my book, So Not Normal. Don't forget to rate and review!
Chapter 2

The next morning, I forced myself up. I didn't want a repeat of yesterday's drama.

When I got to school, Bridgette and I were the first few there, along with Mrs.C (what we call her now).

"So, are we sitting with Nicole today?" I asked her.

"Yeah. Don't we always?" she replied.

"Yeah...I just... I don't want to. She's mean and you know it."

It's true. Nicole was mean. She laughs at everything we do. I trip, she laughs. Bridgette drops her stuff on the floor, she points and laugh. We tell her about something horrible that happened to us and guess what? She laughs. Loud, too. But you might think it's not something too bad. Like we should just let it go. And you're right. But it's how she does it so often without thinking that makes me wonder. I guess Bridgette doesn't keep that in mind.

"No, she's not too bad. She changed since last year, " Bridgette answered. No surprise.

"She didn't change, " I argued.

"Yes, she did. Just you watch, " and before I could argue anymore, the bell rang for first period.



"Hiya!" I heard someone yell. I whipped my head around. It was Nicole. "Howya doin'?" she said.

"Uhh, great!" I lied. What else do I say? It's not like she cares.

Nicole is what you might call a, umm, runt, I guess. She's really short. Shorter than me, and that's saying something. Skinny, too. She has blond hair, but it's not what a normal blonde would have. It's like Barbie hair. Looks and feels like it.

"Okay, then! Let's get to lunch!" she blustered. I didn't say anymore and followed her to the cafeteria.

Our lunch "group" consists mainly of just five people. Me, Nicole, Bridgette, Susan and Addy. Susan isn't very tall either and has short, very short, brown hair. Addy's an exception to the rule. She's about a head taller than all of us. She's not very skinny but I wouldn't say she's on the big side either.

"How was y'all's summer?" questioned Bridgette. That's another thing. You would never count on Nicole to be the one to ask about our summer. In fact, she never asks us about anything other than herself. Surprise, surprise.

"Oh, my summer was great! So we went to Dallas and on the plane..." she started but I tuned her out.

I looked around. Everybody was with their friends since kindergarten. I looked at the self-centered spoiled brat in front of me, talking about herself again. Yup, Nicole.

"...right?" I looked up. They were all looking at me.

"Umm, totally," I replied, clueless of what I had just been asked. And right then, I knew this was going to be a long year.



When lunch was over, I gathered my courage and pretended like the Populars blocking my locker was fine with me.

"Umm, excuse me, coming through," I muttered as I pushed through the crowd. No Jake, I thought. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Here you go," said my science teacher, Mrs. S. She handed me a slip of paper with the number 17 scrawled across it. "Go sit at desk number 17,"

I walked down the row of desks and found desk number 17 at the end of the row. James plopped down next to me.

James. I looked at him. He had changed since fifth grade. A lot. I remembered when people first told me he liked me and I didn't believe them. Then after awhile, in the beginning of sixth grade, he would say hi to me in the halls, find out where my locker was, and when he did, he'd get jealous of the pictures of Harry Styles hung up in my locker. I would finally ask him whether he liked me or not. Of course, he denied it. Then, his exact words were: "Okay fine. I admit, I used to like you. But not anymore. Not anymore." I would smile and nod and he'd walk away.

That was sixth grade. Now look at him. He was skinny, his hair was long and shaggy, and he was taller. He wore blue skinny jeans, a pair of Converse, and a grey sweater over a white T-shirt. His head was so low to the desk that if he lowered another centimeter, his forehead would be against the desk. He had a No. 2 pencil in his hand.

Probably drawing, I recalled his love for art. I smiled at myself for staring at him. He was a little cute, I thought as Mrs. S started class. Maybe this year was going to be better than I thought.
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