"Welcome everyone, new and old. I am Mr Edwardson, head of 6th form here at Barden Secondary School - if you didn't already know - and I would like to take the time to wish you all the best in achieving what is necessary to set you on a journey of happiness and ambition in the future. This is the start of you becoming adults," the sweaty and pale man that was stood on the stage at the front of the hall paused to take a breath and wipe his brow with a silk handkerchief before continuing, "Barden School is dedicated to squeezing the best out of every single one of you," he says with the emphasis of squeezing his plump fingers together into a fist. Facing the short man in his charcoal suit sat row upon row of gormless faces dressed in an array of bright and dark shades, inspecting either him or the drizzle falling on the windows at the sides of the hall. He sighed slightly, thinking about how students nowadays are so set on impressing one another, and never goal-orientated, before continuing his speech of desperation which lacked originality.

Three rows from the back, on one of the stiff plastic chairs, sat a brunette. Her hair fell in natural dark brown waves to just below her shoulders, creating coverage over the smokey grey polo with a black front pocket which clung loosely to her torso. To match the 'alternative' look, her lower half was covered by ripped black skinny jeans and bulky black matt Doc Martin boots. Her wrists held several thick fabric bracelets in place, and her ears were both heavily pierced with ear spikes & studs. On her face, a smirk tugged at the edges of her ruby red lips as she noted the blushing man stuttering on his words nervously, before turning her attention to the thoughts within her head. One section of her mind was solely based upon 24/7 remixes of songs electronically - this was a combination of mixes she took pride in having created, and also the works of artists she admired most. However, this portion of her buzzing mind was not what she decided to focus on. Instead, she thought it more appropriate to head to her train-of-thought: the things she would say if she had people to say them to, but didn't.

These thoughts went from her perception on how crap the school year was going to be, to her then followed fears and distaste on who her form tutor (Ms. Radcliffe, a highly biased teacher whom had been punishing her victims since their first day 5 years previous) for the whole of year 12, and 13 was to be, and finally to her annoyance at her dad and the step-monster he married for forcing her to go to 6th form rather than follow her dreams in the world of practicality and experience. Why couldn't she just get out there and make her difference in the world? Why did she have to spend even more time in stuffy classrooms learning absolute nonsense that wouldn't be necessary in her future?

The side-tracked 16 year-old snapped back to reality suddenly when an eruption of loud clapping started. She joined in reluctantly as the man now dripping with sweat and bright red waddled off the stage. A line of 6 teachers filed on past him, all beaming with sickly sweet smiles and dressed in their best attire. The grungy girl raised an eyebrow and smirked at the teachers as they took turns to step forward and introduce themselves before giving directions for how the students could reach their particular form room after the assembly. Finally it came to a short and thin lady dressed in a pencil skirt and tan blouse to step forward. She cleared her throat quickly before saying sharply, "For form 12e, walk along the corridor straight ahead until the end. Enter the area by the pond and turn right, followed by another right. Go past the next pond and then turn right again. You will reach the French Department. This is where you shall wait for me to take you to our assigned tutor room." She nodded briefly, as if pleased with herself, and remembered to plaster on a toothy smile before stepping back to let the last teacher address the year group.

15 Minutes Later

Ms. Radcliffe marched to the crowd of about 20 gangly teenagers stood around the building labelled 'French Department'. She took out her register from under her arm, "Right, listen up please," the class obeyed and turned towards her patiently, "as I said in assembly, I'm Ms. Radcliffe and I will be your tutor for the remaining two years. Some of you this is too late to say to, but to those of you who are new at Barden, make sure you're organised and achieve your targets and we'll get on fine. Now, I'm going to register you so that I know you're all here before taking you to our form room. This classroom will be the ours for every morning registration and afternoon tutor time for the rest of these two years, too. Like with me, if you treat it well, all shall be fine," she smiled slightly in an attempt to show her humour only to receive a lack of laughter from the blank faces.

Focusing her attention down, the lady started briskly barking pupils' names from the register, looking up to see who they were and if they were present before proceeding. The girl in grey and black attire stood a little away from the crowd of fellow students, she stood behind and allowed her (lack of) height to become an advantage as she went unnoticed. Unnoticed until, that is, the shrill voice called, "Beca Mitchell?"

Beca groaned before reluctantly raising a hand and replying with "yes madam." She was aware of what was to come..

The gaggle of faces all turned to look at her as her tutor continued to say, "Now this is such an interesting thing..I've been Beca's tutor for how many years? I was her tutor in year 7 - when she was such a small, shy little thing. I also taught her geography for year 8 and 9, until she dropped it of course! Don't worry Beca, I don't hold it against you," Ms. Radcliffe grinned at Beca innocently, but Beca knew the truth.

"And finally I was her tutor again last year! We had such fun, there she was as a year 11..though still just as small and shy," Ms. Radcliffe laughed (cackled in Beca's opinion) before shaking her head to herself and going back to the register.

Beca's face burned red as she seethed over what had just happened. She hated being the centre of attention, but even more so when being humiliated. This was not going to be an easy time for her, she could tell..

10 Minutes Later

Beca swiftly entered the cold classroom and headed right for the empty desk in the back right-hand corner, dropping her black satchel carelessly on the seat next to her so that none of her fellow classmates took the empty seat as an invitation to engage with her.

The remainder of what would be the year 12's first and second periods were spent with timetables and letters being handed out. Beca inspected her timetable skeptically, but decided it could be worse. For her A-Levels, she had chosen to study a combination of what she was good at, what she enjoyed, and what didn't make her want to crawl into a hole and die. This resulted in her 4 options being music (which she adored), Russian (which she found boring but easy), Physics (which she was awful at, but had been told it would look good in the future to have done a science) and English Lit (which she genuinely liked as she spent a lot of her time reading..alone). Her timetable consisted of these 4 lessons along with 2 sports lessons a week, and 3 free/study periods.

90 Minutes Later

After first and second period, it was break time. Beca was thankful for this and her stomach growled impatiently as she rushed towards the canteen and weaved her short figure sneakily through the long queue. She was just weaving around a couple of gossiping year 9 girls when she collided with a tall tanned boy with immense force. They both stumbled back and Beca closed her eyes, rubbing her head and wincing at the sharp pain.

"Umm..are you alright?" The boy peered down at the frowning girl with a look of concern in his warm brown eyes. He ran a hand through his short brown hair before nervously glancing down to see her take her hand away from her forehead and display a huge red bump. His eyes widening in shock, the boy grabbed her by the shoulders, spun the now tensing and confused girl around and sat her at a neighbouring table before she could utter a word. He quickly ordered, "Don't move, I'll be right back," before disappearing into the crowds of pupils.

Beca buried her pounding head in her hands and groaned as she probed the lump protruding from her head and inspected it in the front-facing camera of her smartphone. Why was she always so damn clumsy?

Within 30 seconds, Beca felt the cheap canteen furniture sway as the boy slid in opposite her, cradling objects in his arm as he swung his backpack off onto the seat beside him on the 4-table. She stared at the contents, trying to process it as he placed them carefully on the surface. After what felt like too long of a silence to him, the boy said, "Err..I'm really sorry about knocking into you back there. I thought you might benefit from this stuff. I do food technology AND health & social, so don't worry about my reliability in knowing how to restore you to being a fully functioning angsty teenager." He winked at the dazed girl opposite him, in an attempt to lighten the slightly awkward mood.

"Umm..thanks? Just one thing, who are you?" Beca questioned, eyeing the cup of water, Capris Sun Summer fruit-flavoured juice packet, and rocky road cake in front of her.

"Aha oh yeah I'm Jesse," he chuckled, "the name's Swanson..Jesse Swanson." Beca widened her eyes as she realised that Jesse was doing a shitty and highly uncool impersonation of James Bond.

"Well..Mr Swanson," she humoured him, "you must sweep your girlfriend off her feet."

He grinned, "Oh I don't have a girlfriend. Actually-"

"WHAT?! But you have juice pouches and rocky!" Beca joked back, her voice exclaiming at a high pitch in mockery.

The two year 12's talked for the remainder of break, Beca sipping at the Capris Sun while Jesse nibbled at the cake she had declined politely. At the end of break, they said their good byes before embarrassingly realising they actually both were in the same Russian class next lesson.

Beca's Russian class went by quickly enough - she knew the teacher from previous years so avoided being picked-on compared to the new students to the school, and got by simply making a few notes and staring out the window at the grey sky beyond the school walls.

One amusing factor in her lesson was that of a boy with short tight light brown curls for hair and a round face. When the teacher finally picked on him by saying, "Let's see..you at the front. Sorry, what's your name again? Could you please tell us the correct sentence on the board?" the boy physically bounced up and down eagerly before replying in a voice at top-speed, "Yes, yes of course sir. My name is Benjamin Applebaum sir. However, I would greatly appreciate being called Benji. My cousin is called Benjamin see, and it gets awfully confusing at family meet-ups when the family are calling for one of us. I always have to say-"

"Yes thank you..Benji. Would you perhaps be able to tell us the answer on the board compared to your family background please?" the teacher interrupted, not irritated more than slightly amused at the now-blushing boy sat in front of him. Beca chuckled to herself at what had just happened between the adorable dork and the now-smirking teacher. Now that's a cool kid..she thought to herself with amusement.

After 3rd Period

4th lesson had gone by fast, with Beca simply getting into her own world of bliss while her music teacher explained to the class their tasks for year 12 and then let them go on the computers to start researching more into the background and technical requirements they'd need in order to start the main part of their coursework: a piece produced solely by them. Beca wasn't friends with anyone in this class, and there were only 10 of them who had chosen to do this A-Level, so she managed to focus her attention fully - no dorky boys or collisions to interrupt her.

The bell for lunch filled the air after what only felt like 10 minutes to Beca - not a full hour lesson! She packed up her folder, shoved it into her satchel and then headed for the canteen. Outside the canteen she spotted the child-like boy from Russian talking to a girl in school uniform (meaning she was probably in the year group below), stood by the tanned boy from break time. The tanned boy appeared to be looking for someone, his eyes squinting in concentration as pupils filed past, whereas the two next to him seemed in such deep conversation that Beca thought if there was an earthquake they wouldn't notice. They were even making gestures with their hands to emphasise their points, and occasionally one of them would place their hand on the other's arm or shoulder, before blushing and removing it quickly. Beca paused to watch the cute exchanges before walking on towards the canteen entrance.

"Hey Beca! Over here!" A familiar voice called to Beca just as she reached the doors through the buzzing crowd. She looked over and saw three figures struggling to reach her. She waited patiently and was finally reached as Jesse used the door frame to pull himself to his destination. He grinned back at Benji & the girl, "See Em, I did find someone as clumsy as me!" he addressed the younger girl, whom Beca assumed to be called 'Em', chuckling internally as she realised it was like the James Bond character 'M'.

Interrupting her thoughts and bringing her back to the real world, Jesse asked, "Do you fancy sitting with us? This is Em, or Emily if you want to address her by her full name," he rolled his eyes jokingly as if Emily was the most strenuous name to pronounce, "and my good friend here is Benji. Before you ask, we're not pedophiles, Em is my neighbour and I've known her since I was 4-"

"That's what he tells everyone, but really he's just a guy who offers me lollipops." Emily joked, winking at Beca.

"Hey! I get you the best lollipops there are..chuppa chups!" Jesse joked back.

During the joking argument, Beca noticed Benji standing with a fearful and childish expression of hesitance on his face so decided to help him out, "Hey Benji, you're in Russian with Jesse and I, right?"

He nodded timidly, but with a clear look of relief and gratitude towards Beca.

"Right, I'm starving, let's get some food!" Jesse interjected, leading the quartet inside. They all chatted happily as they queued, Jesse & Emily throwing positive and bubbly enthusiasm into the conversation as Beca added light-hearted sarcasm and Benji occasionally rushed the odd line of speech. Beca noted the change in Benji's confidence from his comfort to speak at full length in the lesson, obviously where he's at ease what with being a nerd, to his awkward lack of social skills - not that she can talk about lack of social skills!

They all got their food (a combination of junk food, salads and juices) before sitting down at a small table.

"I love junk food..isn't it the best?!" Beca exclaimed. Jesse, with a teasing grin on his face replies, "Oh we all love the Junk family, don't we Em?" Beca expressed confusion so Emily quickly explained, "Jesse likes to embarrass me by bringing up to new people how my surname is Junk."

"Why did you choose that na-" Beca started to ask, but Emily jumped ahead in her explanation, "Well, my Dad's last name is Hardon, so we thought it probably a little easier - though not much - for me to take my Mum's..so here I am! Guess I better get married asap though, right?" She chuckled at her own remark and Beca saw Jesse wink and give a subtle thumbs-up to the now-blushing Benji. Aww bless, she thought, feeling nothing but soppy adoration for the two dorks she'd become acquainted to.

As if to mirror how the day was progressing (and to complete the cliché), Beca thought, the earlier grey clouds which had loomed above and dropped specks of drizzle had disappeared, to unveil a pale blue sky. Beca's new friends all also noticed this and were commenting on how beautiful it was, etc while Beca snorted inwardly and just reminded herself that she only had English left after a dreaded 20 minute tutor time at the end of lunch.

After Lunch Time

During tutor time, Ms. Radcliffe droned on about the rules which had already been stated in the assembly that morning (not-to-mention repeated to Beca constantly since her joining in year 7, five years ago). Then, the register was taken at speed, simply requiring a "yes madam" or "afternoon madam" from the students when their name was called. Finally, tutor time ended when letters alerting the pupils of school photographs was handed out.

WAIT..school photographs.. Beca groaned; she thought that might be over with now that she was in the 6th form. But no, instead she would not only have to try and for once make her hair obey for the photo but it seemed that, because the 6th form allowed a non-uniform dress code, find something along their requested guidelines to wear.

These thoughts of dread all passed however when the bell rang for 5th period and Beca headed for the tall, 3-storey English block. The building itself was highly ugly with a beige and brown colour and rectangular windows on each floor along with the stairs up. However, the classrooms were one of the best in the school. Beca thought this was because the teachers taught so many topics for each year group that they therefore got more choice of what to put on their displays. One teacher, Mr Dapp, even had a board filled with simply Game Of Thrones quotes and pictures! He taught her last year, and Beca probably spent 85% of her English lessons staring at the pictures on that wall. She remembers them all, and the quotes - but her favourite was a photo of the brave and pale character Ygritte. Ygritte was a wildling, with ginger hair and a fiery personality to fit the name of her type of people. Beca sighed at the memory..

Heaving heavily after her climb, Beca's tired little legs reached the third floor in their big boots and she stopped at the doorway in front of her teacher, Miss Lavender, who smiled before directing her to the seat she was to sit in. With a thud of her bag connecting with the ground, Beca slumped in a similar fashion into her chair. She was sat at the front of the class, by the window and just behind Miss Lavender's desk. The person who was to sit next to her hadn't arrived yet, so Beca focused her mind on looking at the sea gulls swoop past the window and the children from the primary school next to Barden spill out to meet their parents. She sighed, remembering when school days was just fun games, naps and then going home to eat ice cream with her Mum, and play more games with her Dad when he got home from work..

Beca jumped when she felt a finger tap her on the shoulder. She turned to face a grinning girl looking down at her. Her green-blue eyes stared into Beca's dark blue irises with dilated black pupils as they looked the girl up and down. She had long wavy brown hair, which complimented her pale skin and dark eye make-up. Her full lips were shiny from what Beca assumed to be recent application of lip gloss. However, the now gawking Beca was only more abash as she studied the body attached to the face. The tall girl had a tightly-fitted white lace top, and bright red skinny jeans which clung to her long legs before disappearing into calf-length brown leather boots.

"Hi, I'm Stacie!" the girl chirped, extending a hand to shake Beca's as she sat down next to her. Beca tried to close her gaping mouth and to drag her eyes up from Stacie's revealing top to her eyes.

"Err..I..uh..I'm Beca. Nice to..err..meet you," Beca managed a small smile and Stacie chuckled at Beca blushing and squirming uncomfortably in her seat. Before she could tease the poor girl though, Miss Lavender called to everyone and walked to the centre of the room.

The lesson went relatively quickly, with Stacie flirting obviously with Beca, and Beca awkwardly trying to ignore the remarks by concentrating on reading the extract from Macbeth. She was so distracted however that she ended up reading the same sentence "unsex me" 4 times in a row before shaking her head (as if to clear it of her thoughts) and just starting her answer to the question on the board, despite having only read half the extract.

When it came to Miss Lavender asking Beca for her take on the question however, she gave an intelligent and confident answer which the teacher was very pleased with. This was because, when you spend a lot of time alone and especially in your room, Beca figured you may as well be doing something - so she started reading. Films weren't really her thing, and editing music was great but her wifi and software at home was really slow and crashed if it was used too frequently. Old-fashioned novels it was..

After school

Once Beca got home, she quickly walked down the hallway into the kitchen, ignoring her step-mum in the living room as she passed it, grabbed a snack from the cupboard and re-traced her steps down the hallway to the stairs. She then took them two at a time in order to reach her bedroom before she had to engage in conversation with the monster.

Tired from her first day back after a long day at school, Beca collapsed onto her bed after throwing her school bag and crisps from the cupboard on the floor. After a few minutes of lying flat on her duvet cover, the teenager huffily rolled over & picked up her laptop from her desk. She dragged out her school books from her bag before returning to her bed. She then proceeded to work through the homework she had been assigned by her Physics and English teachers, occasionally reaching off her bed to grab a handful of Doritos from the now-opened bag on the floor.

She was just finishing her last assignment that evening when there was a knock on her door followed by it being opened - before she had even said "enter" which always pissed her off.

"Hey kiddo, how was your first day as a year 12?"

Beca rolled her eyes before looking at the new presence in her room and replying, "Firstly, Dad when have I EVER liked being called 'kiddo'? The answer is never.. And secondly, it was fine - same as any other day of my boring life at school. It's such a waste Dad, why-"

"Now Beca," her Dad warned, "we've had this conversation already. The law states you need to be in some kind of education until you're 18. You're only 16, not even an adult - adults make big decisions, therefore, because you're not old enough I'm making the decisions for yo-"

"Dad that is SO unfair. 'Some kind of education' includes apprenticeships, you know? It's not like I'm asking to just drop out altogether and go travel the world or whatever. I just want to get out there: feel like I'm living! I feel stuck here, Dad. The world is moving on and progressing while I'm staying here doing the same routine day-in and day-out. I'm just tired of this, we both know the academic route in life isn't for me. I'm never gonna be a clever doctor like you or a nurse like Mum!"

Feeling bad for his daughter, Benjamin Mitchell took a step further in and sighed in an attempt to show he wanted to reassure his complex child, and not force her to shut him out from her world again.

"I understand Beca, I really do. But the thing is, if an apprenticeship goes wrong or turns out to not actually be for you, what will you do? You'll have been set back a few years, and have no A-Levels to get you back onto the track which leads to all possibilities. Please try to see my point, I just don't want you to regret something and have it affect your whole life."

Beca frowned and retorted, "But I feel like THIS path in life is a mistake and setting me off. It's holding me back Dad, it seriously is."

"Okay Beca, I need you to understand something. I hate bringing this up, but I'm gonna have to if you're using that argument.." Beca tensed, knowing what he was going to use against her, preparing for the hurt to come. He cleared his throat gruffly before continuing with a soft tone, "The life you refer to as now, this 'path in life you're taking' isn't the path of other A-Level students your age. They socialise, they try hard and excel in ALL their studies, not just one or two subjects that they enjoy most. Also, they don't see this next two years as a disaster - they see it as an opportunity. A learning curve. Beca, if you just tried to make proper friends, to get involved in school activities and your lessons, you'd find this a better experience. You just need to stop thinking of the 'if onlys' and start thinking of the 'at leasts' that are in your life right now. At least you have an opportunity to have an education, unlike many in the world. At least you are smart enough if you put in the effort to get the grades which'll lead to many choices in life. At least you have a family that are here for you and love you-" He paused and glanced sideways nervously at his daughter. She sat firmly, her eyes set like cold stone and a grimace on her face.

With her arms folded tightly, she spat, "She is NOT my mother. Don't you DARE tell me I'm lucky because I live in a first-world country and you and HER like to play happy families," Beca narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her before continuing, "I mean, yes, sure I am lucky for being born into this area, this country. I could be somewhere like India, in the slums. Catching deadly diseases from the unsanitary water and looking for scraps to build my home with, right? You know what, I'd probably be dead by now."

"Beca.." Her Dad tried to sooth Beca as she infuriatingly blinked angry tears from her eyes.

"No Dad, you're right. Maybe I should go over to the slums, pick a random child and tell them we can swap lives. They can live with you and the step-monster while I realise how much I've taken for granted and starve in an LEDC's environment, yeah?"

Sighing, Beca's dad shook his head, muttering how of course he didn't mean that, before standing and leaving the room - closing the door behind him. He hated leaving her like that, but he knew that he couldn't say anything to help his situation, and she'd only end up pushing him further away. It had taken him so long since his divorcing of Beca's mum years beforehand and his re-marriage to his current wife for Beca to even start acknowledging him like a real person again. Why did he have to have the teenager who didn't like socialising or doing as her parents told her, eh? He thought, and simply concluded that he couldn't blame her - he was exactly the same when he was younger, anyway.