Contrary to popular belief, RC was not an introvert. She was loud and funny and herself. Just herself. Sometimes loud, sometimes funny, always herself.

That was probably why everyone hated her.

That was probably why Simone liked her.

Simone was RC's best friend. She was as alike to RC as a lion was to a trout. Not alike in the least. RC was boisterous, noisy, confident. Simone on the other hand was calm and collected, quiet and tranquil, and had grasped the fine art of holding one's tongue. Which was unfortunately one of the few fine arts that RC had not quite yet grown to appreciate.

Their friendship, though, was quite unorthodox. Both mostly kept to themselves. They told each other everything, but only when walking home. That had somehow become their unspoken rule. Each had her own squad.

Their friendship was… intersquad. Almost illegal, at this school. Abnormal. It was even a wonder they had lasted this long.

And that was why RC never had a permanent seat at lunch. As if it wasn't obvious enough, RC was not invited to sit with Ally and her thirteen snooty nosed daft broads. And RC was more than thankful for that. She couldn't stand any one of them.

So she would find herself on Nadine's table, talking about home, or at Steph's table talking about art, or, though rarely, at Simone's table just listening.

But often, she would just stand at the very end of the lunch terrace, pretending to be invisible, or pretending to be Rose from Titanic, leaning a little too far over the edge. Mostly pretending to be invisible if nothing else. Rose was a throw too far as RC thought she was neither slim enough nor petty enough to be Rose. Even in her imagination.

She was just… there. Existing.

Which was where she was today, finishing the last of her potato chips, and watching the shiny crackly bag float down to the ground three floors away. How luxuriously it fell, like it was in slow motion, waiting for the wind to take it where it may. Waiting for…

RC's stream of thoughts was interrupted by a boy's deep voice.

"Hi," he stood near her, so near that their shoulders were almost touching. So near that RC could smell his cologne, and strangely, fast food. RC felt hungry again.

She jolted out of her thoughts, her guards flying as high up as they possibly could, and regarded him hesitantly. "Yeah?"

"You're RC, right?" The boy looked vaguely familiar. His light brown eyes seemed to be shining in the sunlight. He ran his hand through his longish dirty blond hair.

"Yeah, that's me." She looked him squarely in the eyes.

"I've been wanting to talk to you." He replied, his gaze as firm as hers.

"No offense, but I can't see why. I'm practically social cancer." RC brushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

"No, I know that." The boy chuckled.

"So? Are you forcing yourself into hermitage?" RC shrugged.

The boy laughed, RC noticed a dimple form in his right cheek. "No, no I am most certainly not, ma'am, thank you very much."

"Look, it's nice of you to walk up to me, and attempt a conversation, it really is. But it's not the right time, and I'm not the right person, alright?" She could feel Shay and Company Limited Crooked boring holes into her cheek with their burning gazes.

"So when is the right time?" The boy was unrelenting.

"Never, I'm serious. I might end up rubbing my unlucky fairy juice all over you. I swear it will never be same." She pulled her jacket sleeves over her hands when she saw him looking at her cuts.

"I'll see you after school then, right?" RC observed him, wondering why he was being so stubborn.

"If your social life dies, don't say I didn't warn you." RC shrugged, stepping back, away from him, as the bell rang signalling the end of lunch.

He chuckled to himself. "Later then!" He called.

"Stay fresh," she responded, her back now already turned. She did not want to be late for English, her favourite subject.

Unfortunately, Brent had other ideas. He cornered her on the stairs heading down.

"What do you want, Brent?" RC asked, scared but trying as hard as possible not to show it. In fact, she tried to sound tired, bored. It worked.

The response was a resounding punch in her side, causing her to groan softly as she doubled over in pain.

"Is that all?" She asked, looking at him, her eyes watering slightly. A reflex action. "Are you done?"

"For now," he replied snickering as Shay approached from behind him and took his arm.

"I think RC has cramps," she announced loudly to the entirety of the stairway. Other students shamelessly stopped to listen. "Do you need a tampon?" She pouted at RC.

Still clutching her side, RC frowned. She thought about how much she hated Shay. How she wanted to see that pout shut forever. "No thank you," she replied coolly, and squeezed away through the scandalous crowd.

Freaks. Mostly cowards. Cowards more than freaks.

She slid into class and settled at her desk with no more disruptions. Her side hurt. It really hurt. That stupid oaf really could pack a punch. In her head, RC could punch him back.

Mrs Powell entered behind Shay and immediately got to the topic; types of adverbs. She left them with two essays to write. This prospect made RC happy. She liked the subject. Genuinely. She liked Mrs Powell. But mostly, she welcomed the distraction.

RC spent the entire afternoon ignoring the pointing and giggling that was very much directed at her. It seemed that every time she looked up at the source, the snickering would intensify.

So she looked down instead.

Several spit balls hit her. She took deep breaths, in and out, out and in, trying to keep from bursting. She knew it was what they wanted. And so she would not give them the satisfaction of getting to her.

As she left class that evening, a razor blade came flying at her. She swore loudly and narrowly dodged it.

"Go kill yourself!" Brent yelled from across the classroom, inviting laughter from Shay's friends.

RC looked from the razor blade on the ground to the stupid smirk on Brent's face. "Thanks for the suggestion, brother. Too bad you don't make all my decisions for me." She watched the smirk drip off his face like melted ice cream. "Stay cool, man." And with that, she was out.

Stupid retard.

***