"McKinley welcomes you Miss Fabray," my new, Indian principle says to me with a hesitant look on his face. I shoot him a smarmy smile and he drops his gaze and ruffles the papers that are laid on his frayed, wooden desk. "I know you've had some problems at your last um," he stops to check the paper in his hand and swallows hard, "seven schools, but I think you'll settle down at McKinley in no time." Even before he says the last words I can tell he has absolutely no faith in his words. He straightens his tie then looks at me with a wan smile, expecting me to say something but not particularly wanting me to.

I smile sweetly and push myself up out of the chair. "Thanks but, I wouldn't count on it," I retort before leaving the room and letting the door shut with a hefty slam behind me.

I sigh to myself as I walk down the corridor that is packed with students that are constantly getting in my way. "All I want to do is find my damned locker," I mumble to myself. I feel something connect with my right arm, rolling my eyes as I shoulder barge a short brunette girl. She lets out a small cry of shock as she drops her books. I turn around to look at her and smirk. I can almost guarantee that this girl gets bullied by the entirety of the school, has no friends and definitely tries too hard. My gaze sweeps from the pink, sparkly head bank, over to the knitted horse sweater and down to her overly long plaid skirt complete with knee length socks. I smirk even more. She shoots me a fierce look but doesn't say anything; she just proceeds to gather her books. I'm about to turn back when I hear a small voice come up from the floor.

"Why don't you watch it next time," the girl says, barely above a whisper. I lock eye contact with her and glare.

"What?" I snap.

"You... you knocked everything out of my hands, and didn't even say sorry!" She snaps back, louder this time.

I scoff. "Why would I do that? Just pick your shit up and get out of my sight princess," I say the last word sarcastically. The girl bites her lip and turns her attention back to her scattered books and papers on the floor as though I weren't there. "That's what I thought."

I leave the girl behind in the corridor and continue my search for my locker. I un-crumple the piece of paper with all my information on. "Ugh," I say as I look at my time table. I have English next, great. I hate poetry and frickin' Shakespeare. Eventually I find my locker. I enter the combination and hit it when it refuses to unlock. I try again, this time it works. I frown as I realise the previous user left some of their crap in here. I pull out a Yale prospectus and a small, round badge which says 'Go Cheerios' on it and toss them both to the floor, shoving my bag and books in their place.

The period bell sounds and I grab my pencil case and books from the locker. English is in room four. I have no idea where that is. I puff out my cheeks in frustration and make my way through the corridor, scanning the number plastered on every class room door.

Seven

Six

Five

I stop outside of four. The corridors are silent now, everyone's already in class. I open the door without knocking and the whole of the room fixes their attention on me as I stroll in, interrupting the teacher's sleep-inducing flow of speech. I look for the owner of the thrilling voice. An old woman shuffles over, firstly greeting me with a warm smile but then looks a bit taken aback when she notices my attire. Dyed pink hair, black band T-shirt, leather jacket, dark, ripped skinny jeans and a ragged pair of Doc Martins. It's easy to see why old people think that teenagers are just out to stab them. I let my head roll to my shoulder, waiting for her to get a move on and finish telling me what to do. Eventually, she points to an empty seat on a joint desk at the back of the room. I notice who my desk-mate is and raise an eyebrow. You've got to be kidding me, I think. It's the girl from before. Well this should be fun. She hasn't noticed me yet, she's too busy writing something down on lined paper that is decorated with golden star stickers. I roll my eyes. I pull my seat out heavily, making her jump and draw a huge line down her page. She says something under her breath before looking up at me and instantly her face clouds with anger. She then looks around the room, possibly for an empty seat but returns to her ruined page when she realises she's stuck with me. I take my seat, the teacher resumes talking and I look at what the girl was writing through the corner of my eye. Song lyrics. Ah, she's a music geek, probably with some big dream of making it in the world as a famous, number one hit singer. I smile to myself and shake my head. If I actually liked her, I'd tell her to save herself a tonne of shit and give up that dream right now.

"Look, I'm sorry about before. I don't want any trouble in this class okay? I'd move but there aren't any other seats so you're going to have to put up with that," a whispering voice breaks me from my thoughts.

I look at the girl callously and whisper back, "Whatever, I don't really give a crap to be honest. Just don't talk to me and keep out of my way and we'll get along like a house on fire."

"You don't have to be so rude about it! You're new here aren't you? You could do with being a bit more friendl-"

"And what makes you think I want to play nice? I don't want friends. I'll be out of here soon anyway so you can have your desk back to yourself in no time."

"Fine, suit yourself. Sooner you're gone the better," She says shaking her head and dropping my gaze.

I grit my teeth. This girl is really pissing me off. Who the hell does she think she is lecturing me like that? What the hell did she know?

For the rest of the lesson, Little Miss Perfect doesn't utter a single word which I'm happy about, though I'm even happier when the bell goes. I pack up my stuff and flee the class room. It's lunch time thank god. This time could not come soon enough; I'm craving desperately for a cigarette. I venture outside, looking for a place to smoke without getting caught. I find a nice quiet spot under the bleachers. I look down at the floor, spotting previous dimps and packets. Apparently this is a popular spot. I dig into my pocket, feeling the familiar touch of plastic. In no time, my smoke is lit and my craving is settled, though my peace is short lived.

"Hey, new girl. This is our place, beat it!" I turn to see three thug looking girls staring at me impatiently with their arms crossed. I hold their eye contact for a second and then blow the wispy grey smoke out and watch it gradually disappear into the air.

"Nah, I kinda like it here," I reply smoothly, still concentrating on the long gone smoke.

"Damn, this girl's brave Sheila," the smallest girl with bird nest like hair says to the large copper-skinned girl. The small girl steps closer to me and plucks the smoke out of my hand. "Girl, do you know who we are?" I look at her dumbly, then back to my cigarette, irritated.

The other large girl walks up besides Bird's Nest. "We're the skanks, we're the kids who smoke 40 a day, take other kid's lunch money and don't give a shit about the rules they have in this joint."

I pull out another cigarette and light it. "I'm failing to see your point here," I say blandly.

Sheila storms forward. "Scram or we'll beat the crap out of you. See that point? We ain't got no time for people like you."

I laugh. "People like me? Take a good look at yourselves, I'm exactly like you. Smoking, bad attitude, devil-may-care appearance. So like I said, I like it here. I kinda fit in, don't you think?" I smile to myself as I watch the girls start to glance at each other. They know I'm right.

To my annoyance, Shelia takes the new cigarette out of my hand but says, "Alright. We're not going to beat the shit out of you...today. But the moment you step out of line, you're a goner." I nod and she continues, "I'm Sheila, that's Ronnie," she says pointing to the other large girl who's wearing a shiny black cap, "and that's The Mack," she gestures to Bird's Nest and hands me my cigarette back after taking a couple of drags.

I inhale and between drags I say, "I'm Quinn." They all nod their heads in acceptance and pull their own packs of smokes out whilst counting the lunch money they'd bullied out of kids today and talking about who their next victims were going to be.

Maybe that god-annoying brunette girl was right, maybe friends weren't such a bad idea after all, though I'm not quite sure this is what she had in mind. Sweet.