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I'm sitting here, alone, eating my lunch, reading a book from the library. It's a deserted hallway, and, if I'm sure nobody's around, I let a tear or two fall from my eyes. I miss my old school. I miss my old friends. I miss my old teachers, and the playground, and yes, I even miss the crazy lunch ladies.

I told my parents it wasn't fair, that they should let me be with my friends. I cried, I screamed, I prayed, but they weren't swayed by my pleas. I was so alone. I didn't know anybody, and nobody wanted to know me. They all hated me. I was a loser, you know the kind, the one kid who's always left without a partner, or a group, or a friend. I cried myself to sleep every night, because once again my prayers had gone unanswered.

So now I sit here, alone. I see one of my teachers walking by, and I hastily wipe the tear from my cheek. She squats down next to me, and asks in her kind, teacher voice, "Are you OK?" I nod, and hold up my book, just praying for her to go away. "Alright," she says, standing up and walking away.

I look at my watch, and wish that lunch could go on forever, just reading in the shade, and not having to force interaction with those who so obviously disliked me. The bell rings, and like always, I put away my book, throw away my trash, and head to my next class. I sit down in the same spot as always, and look straight forward, as always. I try to ignore the audible thud as I sit down in my chair, just as I ignore the kids who snicker and say, "Ms. Piggie!" I pretend I don't care, that it doesn't matter, that they don't matter, but they do. They have friends. They are happy. I am not. It is impossible to ignore what they say, and harder to know that what they say is true.

I hate my life. I spend every waking moment wondering what it would have been like if I had gone to the same school as the rest of my friends, and spent the year happily. But now it's over, just another year gone, in a blink, and the final bell of the year rings. Everybody runs out happily, talking and yelling and laughing, making plans and signing yearbooks and boarding buses and and going home. I wait until everyone else is gone, then slide out of my seat, and walk down the empty hallway, until I reach the gate. And then, for reasons unknown to me, a solitary tear traces its way down my cheek as I open the gate, and begin the long, lonely walk home.
This was my 6th grade year. Yeah, it sucked. Big time.
Toaster-Omlette Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2010  Student General Artist
Sure sounds like it. <feels much pity> But...what about Katie and Juliekins?

AARGH, I HATE having to walk home, and I live even FARTHER away from the school than you do. <kicks at pebbles with sneakers and makes funny little noises> Plew.
AlcnorKinz Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2010  Student Writer
I didn't really become friends with Juliekins until 7th grade, which is also when Katie moved to our school :)
Toaster-Omlette Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2010  Student General Artist
And don't forget meeee! (And Katie B.) :glomp:
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