1 | 1 | I hate school.

I'm obviously not the first person to say this...

But transferring to a new school sucks.

Most of the time.

Why do I say that?

Well where do I start.

Let's see, there the constant stares you receive when people acknowledge your unknown presence for the first time, burning holes at the back of your head. The nagging thought of being worried about fitting in, if people will like you, will people start hating you for no reason, did you wear the right clothes, put enough perfume? Avoiding trouble, making sure you don't get on any lecturer':bad side. Okay maybe I don't really care about that one...

And then there's the making friends part. The hardest part. I don't even want to go into the painful details.

All this is about to happen to me.

You see, my family and I are moving, again, to place called Steinville; a small chunk of land not even visible on the map, off the coast of Florida. They thought New Orleans was too loud of a city so they wanted to be somewhere quiet for a change, try to get away from such a turbulent life.

After a 9 hour long drive, we finally reach our new house, and guess what? Instead of taking a breather and resting from traveling fatigue, I'm told that I have the pleasure of starting the painstaking insanity that we call school the very next day since my Mom had already gone through all the trouble of filling in my online application. She tried to lift up my spirits and convince me that this school will be different, better for me, since it is going to be my senior year. Even my sister, Robyn showed much more concern than she usually does which was the most surprising part.

My relationship with my sister was somehow complicated. At times we would bicker and fight over stupid things like who gets to the last space of recording space when the VCR is almost full. Then at times when we seek each other's comfort, we are always there for each other. She may be one of the most irritating sisters ever to walk this earth but, she's still is my sister and I'm stuck with her so I'm forced to love her anyway, no matter how many times she gets on my nerves.

When it comes to my mom, she and I are really close, and have been for as long as I remember. With dad constantly traveling around on his business trips, Robyn and I are all she has to coddle and take care of.

"I don't care how old you two are, you'll still be my baby girls no matter what." She always reminds us, especially when Robyn plays the "I'm not a kid anymore" card.

So that brings us to the present.

I reluctantly load my rucksack with empty notebooks and make sure my pencil case is full of all my required materials, so I don't have to bother anyone by asking them if I could lend one of their's.

After that, I get up from my bedroom floor and throw the bag over my shoulders, adjusting it so it fit properly. Once I did that, I walk over to the mirror and check out my appearance. I grab my mascara off the dresser and apply 2 coats of it on both my eyelashes and then putting some lip gloss on my lips. Once I'm done with makeup, using a few of my fingers as a comb, I run my hand through the curly and untamable bush I call my hair.

I look down at my fitted white top and adjust it a bit, making sure that it wasn't wrinkling up or rolling up my body. Next I look down at my black skinny jeans and since they seem okay, I make my way over to the start of my closet where all my unpacked shoes had been laid out and pick out some red vans to go with my outfit.

"D, are you ready?" Robyn says, knocking on my door and entering. She is wearing a navy blue patterned blazer with matching navy blue pumps a black top as well as skinny jeans, and a few bracelets.

"Yeah, almost." I say, fitting the shoe on my left foot and stepping on the ground with my thumb partly in the shoe, so my heel can enter easily.

"Are you starting work today?" I ask her as I manage to get my foot in the shoe.

"Yes, and I'm dropping you off so we need to leave now." She says, leaving my room, her heels clicking the floor as she walks. I follow after as we make our way down the stairs. I need to eat something before I leave because I always feel nauseous from skipping breakfast ever since I was young.

Walking into the kitchen, Robyn's phone begins to ring and so she diverts her course from the kitchen and walks to another room, so I leave her behind so she can answer her call.

I enter the kitchen and find my Mom sitting on one of the island stools at the center of the kitchen, eating breakfast.

"Morning Ma." I smile at her and walk to her and kiss her cheek.

"Morning sweetie, how did you sleep?" She asks, using her fork to pick up a piece of bacon on her plate and put it in her mouth.

"Honestly, terrible. I want to go back to bed." I grumble walking over the fridge and getting out a carton of apple juice.

I hate school.

And I'm not even there yet...