Kerry. [First chapter]

Tuesday.
I came home from school early.

I had English last period, and I never learn anything there. Plus, in that class, I always end up sitting alone, always. I hate sitting alone. The only time anybody talks to me in class is if we’re forced into group work. Even then, whoever gets stuck with me spends the whole time talking across the room to friends, texting or looking out of the window. Anything but talk to me.

I decided to make Mr Egan’s life easier and just not go.

The house was empty when I got home. I guess my Mum is still at work. I don't know where Tara is, probably at church, or feeding the homeless. Sometimes I think I hate Tara, though that’s not entirely fair. People at school don’t even bother learning my name; I’m just Tara’s little sister. Little Sister, like I don’t even matter. Though, there’s nothing little about me. If I were to ask you, you’d definitely pick me out as being the big one. Tara’s perfect. Everyone who goes to my school knows her, everyone in all of the other schools knows of her. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect body... and perfect sister. It would be much easier to hate her if she wasn’t always so nice to me. Whenever she’s going out to parties or having friends over, she tries to include me. I once went to Laura’s house with her, but it was so clear that nobody but Tara wanted me there that I made an excuse that I was seeing friends and left. A pretty awful excuse really, as they all know I don’t have any.

Sometimes when friends of Tara’s come back to our house, they don’t believe that I’m related to her. Physically, we’re poles apart. She’s petite, slender, long gorgeous, glossy black hair and shapely legs. I’m tall, chubby and have bushy dishwater coloured hair. I hate standing next to her in pictures. In primary school, they used to think it’d be cute to have the siblings pose for end of year pictures together… I made sure I tore myself out of every one, just in case anybody decided to make posters of Tara for her birthday with pictures of her on them. Somebody most likely will, she’s incredibly popular. Last year, two people in the whole year remembered I existed on my birthday. Guess which two?

I suppose it’s my fault, and not Tara’s, my Mums’, or the girls in schools’ that I’m unpopular. I suppose I don’t make any effort to talk to them either. But I don’t understand their world. During Psychology, where I have to sit next to James due to there not being enough desks for one of my own, the girls are forever turning around to ask him to parties, to borrow pencils or to generally flirt with him. I don’t know how to do that. They’re doing it wrong anyway, because he doesn’t seem too interested by them. I’m not interested in boys, which is just as well, since I can’t even get people to want to be my friend, but, as an exception, James is gorgeous. He has brown cheek length hair, very well kept, and piercing blue eyes you could drown in. He always smells nice too… not in a freaky, I-smell-people-who-sit-near-me way, but whenever he turns his head slightly towards me to write, there’s this breathtaking shampoo-boy-aftershave smell. He’s nice to me. He’s an artist too, he showed me some of his sketches once, when we had a substitute teacher. They were really good, though he said they were only rough. He also does an online comic strip. I’ve been checking it out every week since he told me about it. It mainly features tiny gothic girls with long hair being rescued by boys looking a lot like James. Girls not like me.

Thursday.
James ate lunch with me today. I say he ate lunch with me, we were at the same table anyway. I usually sit alone, or sometimes with Antonia and Grace, if they’re not at meetings or extra classes. They’re pretty much my only friends in school, and that’s just because all they talk about is school, they’re both doing 5 ‘A’ levels, and seem to do nothing but study for them. They’re almost as strange and loner-ish as I am, and I think maybe they feel sorry for me. Today, I was alone, at the table at the back of the cafeteria, right underneath the stairs. I eat quickly; so that I can go for a walk afterwards, get away from it all for a while, you know. I don’t like people seeing me eating anyway.

One time, I was on the bus with Tara, eating a bar of chocolate, and a woman whispered ever- so-subtly ‘’Look like she eats enough of that’’ I was so humiliated I gave the rest to Tara to finish. She’s so lucky that she’s thin. From then, I always think people must think I’m greedy when they see me eating. Today it was freezing cold, so I ate a bit slower than I would normally. James is not usually around at lunchtime. I figure he spends most of his time in the art studios. For someone so popular and liked, he spends almost as much time alone as I do.

Anyway, today he came in to the cafeteria about halfway through lunch. He asked if he could sit at my table, or if I was waiting for friends. Bless him; he doesn’t even know how much of a freak I am. He even used my name. It sounded so good to hear him say it, like I was worth his attention or something. I was completely shell-shocked that he was even there, that he knew my name, and that he wanted to sit with me. Everywhere else was pretty busy, I guess. I nodded, not wanting to shower him with bits of apple, and he sat down opposite me. He was reading as he ate. I wanted to make some kind of conversation with him, about the book, but I couldn’t see the cover of what he was reading, and I might look like some kind of stalker if I talk to him about his choice of lunch... I also figured that maybe he wanted some peace. While I was sitting there, staring absently, because I couldn’t dawdle much longer on my apple, and didn’t quite want to leave yet, some girls from the psychology class I’m in came over. He seemed quite annoyed when they sat down, I have the feeling he doesn’t much like any of them. Maybe he’s gay.

Eventually I gathered up my rubbish and my bag and stood up, I couldn’t stand Melanie’s voice for much longer. As I turned away from the table, James caught my eye and mouthed ‘‘see you later’’ at me. Being inexperienced at what one should do in this situation; I stood there like an idiot for about ten seconds, mouth open. And then gave him a swift thumbs up and left. A Thumbs up. James Miller makes conversation with me outside of a classroom and I give him thumbs up? Now he’ll think I’m some kind of stuck-in-the-80’s weirdo who can’t actually talk. Melanie Jason even stopped talking about her new shoes, or whatever other big news she had, she noticed him talking to me. As I turned to walk away, my face scarlet, I heard her hiss ‘’why were you sitting with her?’’ I hurried away so that I couldn’t hear his answer. If it was a joke, some kind of trick, I’d rather not know. Not yet.

Friday.
We were given this report thing to do, coursework in Psychology. Since me and James sit next to each other, we were paired up. I don't know whether he was particularly happy or sad about this, and I don't know which I am, either. We have to choose a study from the book and write a report on it. When it was announced Melanie looked hopefully across the room at James, but he wasn't even paying attentin, he had his head down, scribbling furiously at his sketch book. He told me he's working on a new webzine type thing now, he didn't tell me what it was though.
Tara brought me home this brocure for the community college, they hold amateur writing classes at night, and she thought I might be interested. I am. Of course I am, but It'll be like another two hours of extra school twice a week. I can picture it, me sitting at the back of a classroom, everybody else in little groups. You also have to do readings of your work. As if.