Light from the window washes over me and I sit up, frowning that it's another day of school. I get myself ready and head downstairs for breakfast - except I only have a glass of water. When I'm finished, I clean my teeth and head for my car, locking the house behind me.
At school, everyone is milling around, talking or finishing some last-minute homework.
I find my way to my locker and drop my bag, grabbing out my timetable from my diary. Deciding I don't want to have to keep taking out my diary, I take a photo of my timetable and have a look at what classes I have on.
Nerves surge through me as I see what I have on second after drama: P.E.
Anyone that knows me knows that I loathe P.E. It's the worst class because I have to move and run. High jump, long jump and running are my least favourites.
I can't propel all of my weight over a beam and then expect the mattress to bounce me back up when I land instead of sinking underneath my weight.
Long jump means I also have to propel myself and then be good at balancing so I don't fall over and have my top fly up, revealing all of the layers of - no not clothes - fat.
Running is pretty much the same. It is the worse of the three though because we usually have to do it as a warmup every P.E lesson. It annoys the shit out of me.
Thank God I remembered to bring my sports uniform and shoes to school this morning or I would be doomed to run in jeans and in converse.
I sigh and unlock my locker, grabbing out my drama book; I can come back to get my sports stuff before the class actually starts.
While waiting for Thomas to greet me, I sit, scrolling through Instagram. Slow footsteps make their way towards me. Thomas is here, I think. I look up, smiling, but instead of meeting Thomas's blue eyes, I meet brown ones; Bailey's.
"Hey, Martina," he says, sitting down beside me. "How are you?"
I'm aware that I sit straighter, seeking to hide the rolls that I hope no one can see through my shirt. "Yeah, I'm good," I say, feeling confused that he's suddenly interacting with me. "How are you?"
"Pretty good," he smiles at me, his brown eyes twinkling. "Do you have drama and sports first up?"
"Yeah," I say.
"Cool. So do I."
I sit staring at the ground when a question pops up in my head. "Why aren't you hanging with your friends?"
Bailey looks slightly startled. "I just thought you looked a bit lonely..."
I chuckle and say sarcastically, "Gee, thanks."
"No," Bailey starts, "I don't mean it like that. I just thought you'd like some company I guess."
"Well, thank you," I say, genuinely, "I was just waiting for Thomas but it looks like he could be either late or not here."
"Oh," Bailey's lips quirk down slightly. "If he's not here, I'll keep you company for the day." Bailey smiles at me and - I know this sounds cliche but - I'm lost in his gaze.
Somehow, I find myself wishing that Thomas would suddenly get sick and have to stay home, or that - if I had a shred of luck - he'd at least turn up halfway through the day.
Just as Bailey stands, Thomas arrives with another guy trailing behind him.
I jump up when I see him. Bailey is looking down at me.
"I guess I'll see you for drama class," he says.
"Yeah, I guess so," I nod and Bailey walks away.
"Hey," says Thomas. "This is Samuel. You guys know each other, right?"
Samuel is blonde and his frame is tall and lanky.
"Hey," Samuel greets. "I think we've had a couple of classes together."
"Yeah, most likely," I say, knowing that what he says is, indeed, true.
"Great!" Thomas clasps his hands together. "Then we'll be sitting with Sam and his crew today, Marty. If that's OK with you."
"Uh," I start uncertainly. Thomas has never decided to branch out before and sit with other groups. What makes Samuel so special? "Sure. I don't mind."
But really, it bothers me for the rest of the morning, even in drama, one of my other favourite subjects.
"So, we're just going to play a quick game called 'Change.' In this game, we have two or three people acting and a caller who calls out 'change.' The group will start acting out any random scene. This caller will call out 'change' when he wants the scene to change. And if the actors take too long, then they're out. Everyone understand?" our teacher, Mrs Gregory, explains.
"Yes," people mutter.
"OK, let's start. Thomas, you can be the caller. Everyone else, choose your partners and then I'll choose who'll go first," the teacher explains.
Glancing beside me at Thomas, we exchange a frown. I was looking forward to having a partner in this game instead of being by myself. Thomas gives me a shrug and then I see his gaze flick over to Samuel, who is laughing with his other friend, Owen.
Just as I am about to go up to the teacher to complain that I have no partner, someone taps me on the shoulder with a big grin and a glint in their eyes.
Can you guess who it is...
Correct.
It's Bailey.
I smile back at him and cock my head, giving him a questioning look.
"Hey," I say.
He looks down, surveying me. I realise that he's nearly a head taller than me.
"Got a partner yet?" he asks.
"No," I huff. "I was going to go with Thomas but he's called now." I instantly feel self-conscious about myself as I catch Bailey looking me up and down. I cross my arms across my stomach as if blocking him from seeing my insecurities.
"Right," he says, not taking his eyes off me. "Wanna be my partner?"
Stunned by this query, my eyes widen. Bailey chuckles under his breath. "Sure," I say, suddenly breathless.
Talking isn't meant to puff you out like sports, a voice inside me says.
I know, I think. I've never been puffed out from talking.
It's not talking that's puffing you out, the voice says.
"Alright," says Mrs Gregory. "Everyone got their partners?"
"I do, miss," shouts Steven. "I got big Newt over 'ere."
"Good for you, uh, Steven," Mrs Gregory nods politely then turns towards the rest of the class, her face contorted into an unsure expression.
"Miss, we'd like to volunteer first," says Bianca, pointing to Abby and Paris.
"Of course says," Mrs Gregory. "Caller, be ready." She snaps her fingers at Thomas.
"Yep," says Thomas, sounding distracted.
Bianca, Abby and Paris perform and honestly, it's shit. They all start different acts at the same time and waste a minute figuring out whose idea to use.
"OK, girls, enough," Mrs Gregory raises her arms and claps, nodding for other students to do so too.
Bianca's scowl turns upside down as everyone claps, and she curtsy's.
"Next up..." Mrs Gregory calls.
Bailey raises one hand and grabs mine with his other. Sparks fly from at Bailey's touch and butterflies flutter in my stomach.
"We'll go," says Bailey, already standing up.
Some people mutter and whisper when Bailey drags me up to the centre of the room. I cover myself like I did before, aware that all eyes are on me.
"Fire away," Mrs Gregory says, stealing the attention for a beat.
Bailey walks to me until we're standing barely a millimetre apart. He leans down and whispers, "We'll take it in turns for ideas, OK?"
I nod in understanding and he steps away and smiles.
"So, honey, what can I make you for breakfast? It's your birthday after all," Bailey grins at me.
I chuckle, my confidence building. "A cake, of course."
In the audience, I hear a couple of people release knowing scoffs. Someone says 'of course, I mean look at her.'
This makes me frown but it goes unnoticed to Bailey and he continues.
"Ah, and in your favourite flavour, which is..." Bailey pretends to get out cooking equipment.
"Strawberry, obviously," I say. Feeling awkward, I move around and pretend to be getting something from the fridge.
"Change," says Thomas.
Bailey and I freeze and look at each other. He nods to me and I think fast. Raising the - now - glass.
"More shots, Brian?" I ask.
"Sure," Bailey says after he drains his 'shot.'
I call out to the 'bartender' and our shots are refilled.
"Good night then, Molly?" Bailey asks.
"Uh, yeah, it was," I nod, a blush spreading to my cheeks.
"Oh, it went that well, did it?" Bailey smirks and earns a few giggles, even a loud guffaw from Mrs Gregory.
"Um, I guess you could say that." Then everyone remembered I was Bailey's acting partner and once again they scoff. No one says anything.
"So you wanna-"
"Change," Thomas cuts Bailey off.
"Dance?" asks Bailey, holding out his hand.
I dip my head and laugh, lost in the moment. Bailey smiling widely at me, feeling like the only two people in the world... I'm having fun.
"Sure," I place my hand in his and there are those sparks again.
Bailey puts a hand on my waist and I put a hand on his shoulder.
Before we start dancing, however, Thomas decides to speak.
There's one idea that comes to my head and I change the scene quickly.
"Get out of my house, please," I say.
"But, I want you back, Mar - Marlene," Bailey says, and I see his lips twitch, threatening to arc up into a smile.
"Well, I don't want you anymore," I shove Bailey back lightly.
"I guess it's over then..." Bailey looks down at me with his gorgeous, big eyes. I survey his face. My eyes move down to his lips, curved down in a frown.
"It is," says none other than Mrs Gregory.
Bailey's frown flips instantly and before I know, I'm being enveloped by muscular arms and drawn into a muscular chest.
"Good job, Molly, Marlene," Bailey chuckles and I feel his chest move.
"You too, Brian," I laugh. I then realise the tough situation I'm in and try to wiggle my way out - literally.
Bailey and I sit down and watch the rest of the class perform. Soon enough, the bell rings, signalling I have to head to the class I've been dreading.
When I get to my locker, I pull out my sports clothes and head into the bathrooms. I waste no time locking myself into the end cubicle - it's actually a shower - and getting changed.
Once I'm done, I head out and make my way towards the oval.
Mr Lawrence is already waiting and so are most of the boys. I'm the only girl there besides from Bianca, Abby, Paris and another one of their friends, Rachel.
"Hey, Martina, nice performance before," Bianca mocks.
"Thanks," I plaster the fakest smile I can manage onto my face.
"God, you're so dumb, that was an insult," Bianca rolls her eyes.
The boys have started to tune in now, and I notice the tension between everyone.
"Bianca," I say, flatly. "You're brain is as big as my thigh gap."
"What thigh gap?" Bianca screws up her face and looks down at my legs.
"Exactly," I smirk and the boys say 'ooh' and 'burn' and 'get wrecked.' There's a slow applause coming from the middle. My eyes search for the owner or owners and I finally find them.
Bailey and his friends, Steven and Newt, are the owners. Steven and Newt wave their hands around, getting everyone to join them.
I know that Bailey, Steven and Newt have always disliked Bianca but I never knew they'd go this far to show it.
Mr Lawrence calls for everyone's attention once the rest of the girls are out of the change room.
"Morning team," he says and doesn't wait for a reply. "We're starting this P.E class off with a warmup lap of the oval and then we're going to have a little chat and then get straight into the topic of this term; netball."
Some boys groan when they hear we really doing netball, whereas some girls cheer, happiness radiating off their faces
"Right. Off you go," Mr Lawrence dismisses us and we all head off to run.
The boys decide they want to show how good they are at running, and start sprinting. The majority of the girls are behind the boys, jogging slowly while chatting, while the more sporty girls are mixing in with the boys.
Then there's me: I'm at the back of the whole class. My job is kind of like a fast walk where I'm trying to jog but I'm also trying to walk. If that makes sense.
A pit forms in my stomach as I start to feel self-conscious about how I look. I'm pretty sure that the fat on me doesn't look good when I'm moving faster than one kilometre per ten hours.
Once I finish my lap - last by at least five minutes - I rush to grab my drink bottle. After a few big gulps, I join the rest of the class who have already started walking down to the sports centre.
Don't get me wrong, I love netball, but I never play Centre. I'm always a Goal Keeper or a Goal Shooter because I cannot run fast enough to be any other position.
But no. Today, Mr Lawrence didn't take that into account. Or maybe he did and he put me as Centre so I could 'do some exercise' to 'burn off fat.'
Well, guess what, Sir. I am made of fat, so if you want me to burn it off, there would be none of me left.
Anyway...
On my team, there's Abby, Bailey, Newt, Samuel, George, and Anita. We get to start with the ball.
On the other team are Bianca, Paris, Chloe, Samantha, Teddy, Hamish, and Steven.
There are two other teams sitting out watching our game before it's their turn to come to play.
The short, sharp noise of the whistle sounds, and I step into the circle. Chloe, a neutral who's really sweet, is playing Centre for the other team.
Most people didn't listen when I told them that bunching up won't help our game. Thankfully, they listened to me
telling them about which thirds they could go into.
Bailey calls to me and I see he's free. His player, Bianca, of course, is chasing after him. I quickly call out to Bailey and he catches the ball in his hands with ease.
The rest of the game goes smoothly and when we're off, I realise I have chafe. I think, well, that's just lovely, is it not?
I sit back and watch the next game unfold. It's shit, to say the least. I mutter all of the mistakes that should be pulled up under my breath. They don't get pulled up.
Mr Lawrence looks tired and bored; probably because he used to be a pro netball player and the students are just terrible.
I feel your pain, sir, I feel your pain.