I Was Replaced by the New Girl

I Was Replaced by the New Girl (One)

Like most clichés, it all starts with a leader.

Jessica's parents were... I dunno, but they were quite well off. They had two cars, which is quite ordinary, although not so ordinary when you realise that they're Mercedes Benz and BMWs. A two-story house, and she's the youngest out of an older brother and a sister. She goes wherever she pleases, and unlike me, she doesn't have over-protective parents or an empty wallet, she also has everything a boy could ask for. Jessica was tall, long caramel-coloured hair, and well, just everything you imagine a cliché leader to be. She had her wrongs, but they were all ignored, unlike everyone else's.

Leader are always bound to have admirers. Unfortunately, in my group, there is one.

Mish. I don't really know much about her, only that her parents are split, and i dunno whether that has really affected her. I mean, what is there to say about a girl who idolizes some school girl?

These two girls have got to be the nicest around here. They're sweet, kind and they never embarrass you, or say anything mean about you, well, never in front of your face. Helene and Nina have been the sweetest people around since i met them. Helene, tall and skinny, brown-haired and beautiful, accepting of others and happy all the time . Nina, one of the most cutest girls in the school, is just as sweet, although almost sickly sweet; I have never gotten a chance to catch her talking about someone who she was bittersweet to. I think they're quite swell.

My good friend, Victoria, is the cutest thing ever. She wears clothes that are the causes of our huggings of her, and her sweet high-pitched voice makes it even harder not to just, eat her up. She wears flowery skirts, blouses with intricate embroidery, and ballet flats. Her most favourite thing to do is read and listen to Vampire Weekend.

Jo, super confident and is capable of doing anything on her own. Our group has its own, kind of, style, we wear similar clothing, listen to the same type of music, but Jo, can like something that we don't and still get away from it, because we all love her so much because of her individuality and self-confidence. She's just one of those few people in the world these days that can do something that is shunned, without being shunned by society.

Other than some random people that sit with us, that's my group that I sit with at school. They're cool, I guess.

***

I coughed deliberately hard so that the rude and insolent man would hear me, and finally figure out that it was ignorant to smoke at a tram stop, where I would be waiting with the dry and horrid smell of cigarette smoke for, I'm guessing, another twenty minutes, thanks to careless tram drivers.

I looked in the distance, searching for the shape of a tram for the 69345th time, and finally, saw the white tram heading towards me, taking its own, sweet time. I picked up the Borders Bookstore bag that contained this year's worth of learning and education in its form of books. It was actually light as a feather. I wish.

The tram doors opened for me and I heaved the two bags of books, plus my school side bag up the steps and into the small and cramped space inside the tram. As usual, there were no seats left, all taken by old ladies and office workers reading and listening to their own music. So I was forced to stand up beside the window with my three bags on the floor, looking smart. No, looking like a tool.

I couldn't reach into my bag and grab my iPod, because there was some man severely intruding my personal space, and let me tell you, I have never smelt anything as worse as that man has. His armpits were exposed to my face because he was holding onto the handrail on the ceiling. I left my books alone and sat on the seat in front of them, which was conveniently free, thanks to a person who got off.

Minus the two bags of books and condense them into my one school side bag, gives you an ordinary route to school; being forced to stand up, old ladies shouting at you because you won't move, and middle-aged fat men who pong. Revoltingly pong. Like foot fungus and fart mixed together.