Dandelions and Freckles.

uno

"Chromebook bashes," Mocked Josie, sitting down at the our table. Ben shut his Chromebook in shame. She rested her chin on her knuckles and batted her eyelashes. She had an angelic vibe about her, with wavy ginger hair that caught the light perfectly at every angle and her glowing hazel eyes that anyone and everyone could spend weeks getting lost in. They almost made you forget everything, even your name. "You do realise this is my table, don't you?" My eyes were fixated on her, almost envying to be her own. Sam, Leon, Ethan, and Ben looked very confused. "And I thought they called you the radgie lot," She huffed. "This is my table, that's yours." She said, frustrated, pointing to the table next to us. "Please just sit there to cause less complications, they're expecting me to like, you know, kick you lot off the table and I really can't be bothered." I assumed by saying 'they' she meant her friends that were staring at us angrily. So we got up and walked to our other table. She mouthed 'thank you' and sat down at her table.

The bell for our next lesson went off and everyone rushed off to their class but not Josie. Never Josie. She sat, still eating her sandwich and listening to music on her iPhone. She looked so peaceful. I wanted to go talk to her but...but I couldn't.

Later, Josie strolled into class -5 minutes late- and placed an apple down on the teachers desk following with a handshake with the teacher. All the teachers loved her because she got straight a's in every lesson. Josie didn't have much friends and to be totally honest, the ones who she was friends with weren't really her friends but just people she happened to hang out with with. However, Josie knew everyone and everyone knew her. She knew everything about everyone but nobody knew anything about her. She was funny, clever and...beautiful. So I was confused why nobody wanted to either be her best friend or be her boyfriend. These days you have to be blonde, have blue eyes and do everything society tells you to. Just like Hitler wanted. You have to be fake. Merely another person in a sea of faces. Faces that all look identical.