Starting a new school at my age is ridiculous. I am established in my ways. How will I fit in with new rules, new ways of doing things, stupid strangers trying to be friendly? To make it even worse, I now have no choice but to be chauffeured to school and back by my mum. It is hopelessly too far to walk and there is no public transport along this rural road. Imagine, also, standing in the persistent rain waiting for a bus?

My mum keeps pointing out that I am starting at the beginning of the new school year, and I might not be the only new kid starting, so it would be nice if I made friends with one of the other new students.

Whoopee!

Wearing this horrid new school uniform does not make me feel any better either, although my mum and Sean gush and tell Esther and me how beautiful and cute we look, while taking photos. Even if I am smiling outwardly, it still annoys me that they think anybody would want to look back and remember this day.

At school, I cannot stand the way the boys are staring at me. Some of them I am sure are wondering how easy I am. The girls just plainly ignore me, giggling at my strange accent.

For the next couple of weeks, I hide in the bathrooms at every break. It is mortifying to stand around waiting for someone to speak to me or to sit alone in the cafeteria. I act as if I am a reserved, alone kind of person who would prefer not to have friends, so I do not speak to anyone during class, keeping my head down. If anybody comes within talking distance of me, I draw a blank expression on my face and look in the opposite direction. I did not want to look desperate.

In Science, a boy named Aaron sits at the desk in front of me. Now and again, he turns in his desk and talks to the girl sitting next to me, while looking in my direction. This makes me feel self-conscience, so I always pretend I do not see him, ignoring him completely, looking through him.

I only say what is necessary in class, and if a teacher or an adult speak to me at school, I respond automatically. For me, the students all melt together into a giant blur. Besides, I do not want to be here. All I want is for things to go back to the way it was—the way it is supposed to be.

Going home every day, I smile and pretend I am the happiest individual ever to walk the earth, mostly to keep the worry out of my mum’s eyes and not to have her convince me—once again—that although I am unhappy now, I will soon see that everything happens for a reason.

I go out to my hideout every afternoon, where I can be myself without having to pretend I am happy. I swear and curse, moan and grumble, sitting in the same place every day. The moss on the trunk is starting to rub off and the whiteness of the long-fallen trunk is starting to shine through all the green.

I always seem to feel better here, as if this is my little heaven amid the larger hell out there. I can draw courage from the surroundings. It is as if my soul feels a little lighter, and then when I go back into the house, I can convince my mum I am happy. I can smile and in doing this I can make her smile.

During mid-term break, as the days drag by, and in the safety of my sanctuary, I blame my mum and Sean for this unfortunate thing happening to me. They ruined my life permanently, and they stole my happiness away from me. I am so lonely now and I am positive, I will never forgive them.

Then, the day before school starts again, and I am dreading going back, I clear my mind and look up. I marvel at my surroundings changing from different shades of green, to shades of browns, oranges and yellow, while my hand is resting on the fallen tree I am sitting on.

I feel indentations under my fingers on the tree trunk. Crouching down, I peer at the faint scratching but can only make out the outlines of a heart.

At that very moment, a beam of sun breaks through the top of the trees, shining down on me. As the light glows over me, amazingly a sense of acceptance washes through me, and I can feel the warmth move from my head through to my toes. It suddenly feels as if everything will be okay, and I will be all right.

Impulsively I decide to try to fit in here. After all, I suppose, I can try to be happy and give up on loneliness and emptiness—to try to make at least one friend.

This is the turning point for me.

The next day Jane starts talking to me in French class, and she invites me to spend break with her. She introduces me to her friends, Aaron, Connell, Siobhan, Sarah and John, and they welcome me into their group without hesitation.

They ask me a million questions about South Africa, and I answer all their questions, laughing at the silly ones. It feels, after that break, as if I have been a friend of Jane and her friends for much longer than just a day.

When my mum picks me up after school, I feel as if I am not pretending as much anymore. This is the first day I really notice the green hills rolling away into the distance. I notice the sheep with all the paint markings over their bodies grazing in the fields. I notice the neat squares of hedges, and the grey clouds blanketing us in.

Do not get me wrong, I still feel empty and bare on the inside, but now I can see a tiny, bright light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.

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