The Fear List (The Fear Series, #1) ON HOLD

Chapter 1 - Fantasy

(The date below is not the date this was posted but the date in the story)

Chapter 1 - Molly's POV

*Tuesday afternoon 11/05/14*

"Molly" Elle hisses while budging me with her tanned skinny elbow. I give her a scowling glance as I pull myself out of my daydream and into the dull English classroom. Mrs Woodland's dark lifeless eyes are staring at me blankly, waiting for what I presume is an answer. Her gaunt face and grey bristly hair tightly twisted in a bun makes her a no-nonsense woman.

"Errhh...." I stutter while coming fully alert. I say the first thing that pops into my head before I can stop myself. "S-Shakespeare?" I whisper quietly. A hushed tone of sniggering spreads from seat to seat around me. Mrs Woodland sends a disapproving look my way which makes me slump low in my single wooden desk so others won't see my flushed face. I let out a sigh of relief when she moves on to the next question harassing someone else.

I think back to the daydream I was having, the obsessional daydreams about Ethan Clark that occur at least once a week. I've kept them to myself because I know Elle would find some way to tease me with this information, goading me to give speaking to him a try. That would mean that I have to approach Ethan and confess my feelings. I'm not ready for the rejection.

As the bell rings for lunch my shoulders relax, I have an hour before I have to be with these people again. Elle and I make our way to the cafeteria and become engulfed into the hectic lunch time buzz in seconds. Grey tiled floors resemble those that you would find in a hospital. Handfuls of circular tables are clustered together, some already overpacked whilst others await their occupants. The white chalky walls are kept in pristine condition with no sign of graffiti or vandalism, reminding me that the school spends a lot of money to keep up appearances even though we're a public school.

We take a seat at our usual table which of course is empty and likely to stay that way. That's what happens when you're classed a average. Definition of 'average' at Holden View High School is that people know of  your name but wouldn't necessarily be able to pick you out of a crowd.

Suddenly tripping over I look behind me only to be met with a confident looking smirk. Football jocks are so full of themselves.

"Watch where you're going mute!" he shouts purposely, loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear. He doesn't even try to hide the foot that tripped me, still leisurely stretching it out in between the tables.

Maybe it would be more fitting to call myself less than average because the other students wouldn't be able to pick me out of a crowd and they definitely don't use my name when addressing me. Nerd or Mute being some of their favourites but I can't complain when they are utterly true. Having a 4.0 GPA and non-existent social skills can get you labelled pretty quickly. Anyone that I don't share relations to or who haven't been my friend for at least half my life will get the shy reserved side of me. Even my teachers have come to realise that there's no point calling on me in class, well apart from Mrs Woodland that is. I think she enjoys torturing the students.

I'm not sure why I find it so hard to speak to others. It's as if it has been ingrained in my head for so long that I don't remember the exact reason why it started to be something I became scared of. Maybe because I have low self-esteem and decided it's best for people not to notice me. Not being noticed comes in handy when you're an accident prone. I've been told by my mom that when I was younger I had a broken leg, my wrist broken twice and so many fractures, sprains or unexplained marks that she lost count. Half the time I didn't even know how they happened. Mysterious scars, long brown hair, uncontrollable frizz, plain hazel eyes, pale skin, skinny 5.2ft frame and thrift store clothes pretty much sums me up. No one would take a second glance at me and that's the way I like it.