I pace the delicate structure of my almost stupidly small room in doubt. My mum is forever babbling on the phone to her contemptible boyfriend, who is, may I add, almost 10 years younger than her and an absolute dick! But I can't complain. He does buy me my weekly magazine in order to "bond" with me at my mums' request so the thought of hopelessly dreaming over Zac Efron is enough to keep me going for a few days and live with it.

But yeh. It's 8:22am and I am anxiously waiting in pain for my uncanny mother to hang up and drive me to school. Sylvia young… Sounds posh right? I don't know, it's a special school for particularly talented people and I am "lucky" enough to be gifted with the voice of an angel – as my nanna calls it.

I suppose I am quite good, I mean I've won my fair share of competitions but I'm no star. So getting into Sylvia young was like winning to lottery… to my mum.

I'd have preferred to stay in Middlesex if it was me. But what can you do?

"oh finally, for gods name mother", I declare to my mum.

"sorry darl, Mickey was just so lovely and I lost track of time."

"Uh okay. Can we just go pleeease?"

So off we pop.

Into the gales of central-ish London, and into my new future.

It seems a lot warmer here than northern London, well I spose it is more industrial and my, it is half posh! So I guess I should've seen it coming when entering the school… It was like being a moldy chip in a crisp packed of crunchy, flavoursome, darling ones. I was an absolute brute. There's me with my oaky brown, wind-swept hair - because it can't be controlled when it comes to weather, scruffy rolled up sleeves and glaring hazel eyes. They all pierced their faces towards me in doubt. Oh sorry I'm not tangerine toned and have dried up white-bleached hair. Giddy god.

I mean, I'm not that bad.. am I?

In my old school I was always told that I wasn't "half bad" or "bang-tidy" but as a flattering request of course although it did always seem to be the hormonal "I'm not a virgin" boys.

Yeh.. basically, all the girls in this school are stunning, or, trying to be stunning.

Feeling a little depressed, I gather my new river island bag (that took 2 months to save up for) and the utterly unsightly p.e bag that I couldn't argue against my mum to not bring. Shes said "it's cute"? I'll never understand.

So I peck her a goodbye kiss and trek off to my first lesson. I have science with Miss Hut-chik-ing-ston? Whaa? Pondering.

I knock softly and a startled class glare back at my lonely figure. I mumble a question of where to be and a gloomy, sarcastic looking woman? With also browny-oak hair stares back then points to the deserted chair in the corner by an empty two seated desk.

I clamber into its supportive frame and lean on it in worry. The class whisper the odd word but it seems we're doing book work so I take the time to rest.

A few eternal minutes pass until a sudden vibration at the door wakes my sleeping body and I flex upwards. A young boy staggers in.

I'm mesmerised by his soft, wavy, dirty-blonde hair as it wraps round the clear, pale skin of his face and two beautifully placed, sea coloured eyes catch mine. He then longingly whispers to the gloomy teacher behind the desk and apologises it seems. She nods and he then skids up the isle towards me. My heart pounds and it skips beat after beat until I realise I've been staring at him all this time so cautiously look away.

I wish he doesn't sit next to me. I'd be mortified. But it's okay because he perches on the table in front of me, next to a strange looking boy with bright orange hair. Must be a young Ed Sheeran I giggle to myself before a confused looking blonde boy senses my lauighter and looks around.

Shit! What do I say? I must look like a complete idiot.

"uuh, can I borrow a pen?" The ravishing blondey asks.

"y-y-yeh sure'ee", I stutter nervously and scurry around in my bag – showing it off until a little biro jumps out and hands itself to him. I suddenly become lost in his eyes. Then his delicate voice sounds a "thanks.." as he turns away.

I let out a gasp of air and remorse on our special 10 seconds together. Then once again turns around but this time im trying a sensual smile, flashing my newly-pearly whites that I've been working on with a 2 week whitening paste.

He voluptuously tells me his name.

"hi, don't think we've met, I'm Bertie, Bertie Gilbert".