Authors note: Yes, it's been a while… Around two years but I'm back with an obsession with Captain Jack Sparrow. So sue me.

"Alex is a carrot top." Nicole taunted from the other side of the table.

I acted like I hadn't heard and concentrated more on the story which everyone had to write in this lesson. I liked writing stories, even if it did make my hand ache and a lot of the stuff I wrote I ended up crossing out. I liked this story much more than any of my other ones, not that I told anyone that I wrote stories during my free time because then they'd tease me even more than they already did. Mine was about a country where being a grown up was illegal and all of the grown ups were forced to leave or gunned down, leaving only children left to rule the country. I especially liked one of my characters I'd made, she was my age and was the one who started the rebellion against grown ups. I got an ache in my chest from the amount of wishing that I were her that I'd been doing. My teacher Miss Hort (I'd always thought she had a funny name) always said she liked reading my stories, even though I was sure she couldn't read half of it. I scribbled down a few more sentences.

"Ginger-minger." She whispered again. I scowled.

"Alex!"

My head shot up, I couldn't help it because it happens to everyone when they hear their name. It was the boy sitting next to her called Joe.

"She was talking to you!" He hissed.

Like I hadn't noticed that she was talking to me. I was the only person with ginger hair in the entire school. I hated that girl. Why did everyone treat her like she was the royalty? What made her any better than the rest of us? In fact, being nasty to other people should make her worse than the rest of us but then if I said that I would be thinking that I was better than her which just makes me as low.

"Really?" I asked but I don't think he got that I was being sarcastic because he laughed like I was unworthy of even speaking to her. Nicole had him completely underneath her control, he would do anything she told him to because apparently she was going to marry him when they were older, which was stupid because our class is made up of ten or eleven year olds.

"Yes, ginger. She actually will look at you for a few seconds."

I felt my face go red with anger.

"Aww, look." She squealed like I was some cute fluffy animal in a zoo she was looking at. "Her face now matches her hair!"

I struggled to find a reply. She looked perfect, she acted like what everyone but me thought was perfect, what was there for me to say back to her?

"Shut up." I mumbled.

"Class, I want you all to concentrate - I don't know why you all think you need to talk, this is individual work." Miss Hort called out and most of us stopped speaking, "I want you working in absolute silence!"

Then the noise stopped.

At break time I sat on the damp wooden chair by myself watching my so-called 'classmates' play. Ever since my friend had left school I'd began to dread it and feel more and more alone. I used to be one of them a few years ago. They used to treat me like one of them before Nicole moved to our school. I used to be able to join in with their games and work in groups with them instead of being ignored – or worse. At least I'd rather be alone than be around Nicole and her gang of followers. Which wasn't good because they were heading over to where I was and one of them was holding the bucket that the cleaner uses. I pretended not to see them, which was good because I was good at pretending and told myself that they were going to talk to somebody else. I heard them come closer to me until they were in a circle around me and the bench. I had to force myself to remember to breathe.

"Alex." One of them said and I looked up without thinking again. I really would have to stop that.

"Ohmygod, your hair's on fire!" Nicole shouted and I put a hand on top of my head without thinking but it wasn't hot or anything. "Put it out! Put it out!" She screamed urgently.

Then Joe grabbed the bucket, I stood up and tried to move and was about to push past one of them when he reached forwards with a horrible grin and poured it all over my head. All of the cold wet soapy water drenched my face before running down my clothes and soaking them too. The soap was stinging my eyes and felt like somebody was burning acid on them, they fell up with tears. I tried to hold them back but then Nicole saw them and started laughing and saying something about the poor baby that was me and the wet clothes stuck to my skin. I became so angry I felt like my head would explode. I knew I couldn't do anything back to her (like punch her pretty face) without getting into trouble, and so did she, and that just made me more angry. So the tears overflowed from my eyes and I ran.

I ran until I knew that they couldn't see me. I ran until I had my hiding place behind one of the sheds. I knew no one could hear me but I still felt a need to quieten the angry sobs. I was crouched behind one of the wooden walls of the shed will all of the toys in, squashed between that and the fence that surrounded the whole of the school. My fists were clenched and I could feel my stomach moving roughly in and out with each of my breaths. I was beginning to shiver with coldness and the wind made the wet patches of me even colder. I whipped my head around just to double check that no one was there and a wet strand of my hair stung my face. I needed to release all of this anger before my hair did truly set on fire. My little 'joke' caused my fury to reach its boiling point and I kicked the back of the shed. It didn't hurt my foot. It didn't damage the shed because the plank of wood just bounced back to where it was before. So I did it again.

And again.

I leant my head against the car door.

Later on Miss Hort had found me when she realised that I wasn't in lesson. I didn't realise that the banging was loud enough for them to find me but I didn't get into trouble for it. Miss Hort was usually quite strict but she saw the state that I was in and led me inside the staff room. I had always wondered what the inside of the staff room actually looked like but now it didn't matter to me at all. She told me to sit down on a comfy chair so I did. She then gave me a hot-chocolate with marshmallows in it and the nice cream on top. I made sure that I didn't have a cream moustache because I was reasonably calm at this point. I had got rid of my anger and now I was just very disappointed that somebody I knew would do what they did to somebody else. It just made me even more sad that the something they did happened to be me. Miss Hort sat down too, after phoning my mum. She put on a nice voice and asked who did this to me. She saw a tear drop from my eye and told me that if I didn't want to say now I didn't have to. She then leant forwards and told me that she knew who did it and either way they were going to get into serious trouble because no one should be able to get away with that behaviour, especially in our school.

I knew that Miss Hort did not actually see who did it but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. I got to have the rest of the day off school because my clothes were that wet. My mum asked me angrily who did it but I told her that I didn't want to talk about it and that the people who did it - I winced at the memory that already seemed to have happened so long ago - were being dealt with. I told her as nicely as I could that I needed some time to myself.

During this time I decided to - yet again - re-watch the first Pirates Of The Caribbean, which had to be one of my favourite films of all time. Captain Jack Sparrow could always make me smile even when I didn't think that I could smile. I settled into the sofa with my cow-patterned blanket and chocolate.

For the next two hours all my mind was on was the film. It was better than therapy for cheering me up. I even joined raising my class when Jack said 'Take what you can' and replied 'Give nothing back'. Unlike last time when I watched this film one of the scenes stood out for me in particular:

What a ship is, what the Black Pearl really is, is freedom.

When that film finished I decided to re-watch Dead Man's Chest so that I could fully understand the story which I'd only started to really get a few months ago. Then it got to the part that I really couldn't stand; the part where Jack was sat in the lifeboat sailing away before deciding to return. Then when he returned and Elizabeth Swan near enough killed him.

I'd never liked her, even during the first film, she'd always seemed like too much of a girl to me. There was just something about her character that irritated me. Maybe I was just jealous. Jealous of an imaginary character because she was on board the ship that sailed towards freedom. If I had Jack's compass surely that would be what it would point to.

I didn't want to watch Jack make the decision that would lead to his death. I would give anything to save him if he was real. I would also show the 'noble' Elizabeth Swan. I closed my eyes and imagined just what it would be like - it hurt worse than before when I wanted to escape into my own world - and pictured myself there, saving Jack Sparrow.

I squeezed my eyelids tighter and made myself remember to breathe.

Authors note: I promise that although Alex is only ten (at the moment) she will age pretty fast, and this story will become WAY more interesting and less childish. Wow I had to revisit my childhood whilst trying to write this.

Why are children so mean to each other?

Comments are stimuli (have I even used that word correctly? :/) for my inspiration to write…