My phone wakes me up the next morning, playing It's Like That by Run-DMC. I know, I know, not exactly music girls my age listen to as far as I'm aware, but hey, I've found it's a good song to wake me up. I switched off my phone's alarm, changed into jeans and my favourite top, a long white one which goes to just below my thighs and has a grey cat on the front, and went downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. To my surprise, I find my lunch already on the kitchen table with a note from my mum telling me to have fun at the zoo. I see with relief that she's put an ice pack in next to my bottle of water to keep it cold as today has turned out to be one of the hot, sunny days where the temperature gets above 20˚C. That might not be much in America, but in England that's t-shirt and shorts weather. I pour myself a glass of apple juice and take my lunch out the hallway to add it to my schoolbag, which is already close to overflowing due to me being geeky enough to have done some research on the zoo one evening when I didn't have anything do and got bored. I really don't help myself sometimes, do I?
I down the rest of my juice and glance at my watch. Crap! I run into the kitchen, put my glass in the sink, grab my bag and leave the house. I run all the way to the end of my road and make it to the bus stop just as people begin to pile onto the waiting vehicle. A couple of students from my school glance to see who the late person is, realise it's me, and turn away, rolling their eyes. Once I came so close to missing the bus that the driver shut the doors just as I arrived and started pulling away when I banged on the doors. Luckily for me he stopped further down the street to let me on, but I've never lived it down. I just gave the other students more things to laugh at me about.
Once the bus starts moving I put my earphones in and stare out of the window all the way to school. The journey only takes fifteen minutes when the traffic's not too busy and when we get there, I stay in my seat until everyone behind me has gone past. Too many times I've stepped out into the aisle in front of someone and somebody else has stuck their foot out to trip me up; unfortunately they were usually successful.
I step off the bus into the gleaming sunshine and head for the car park where the coach is already waiting to ferry us off at half past eight, surrounded by students chatting to each other and the two teachers accompanying us standing off to one side. I recognise Miss Green, my Biology teacher, holding a register and talking to Dr Pritchard, the head of the Biology department. Miss Green is only in her twenties and she's nice- or at least, she is to me. She's kind but she does get very frustrated with the students who are taking Biology as something to fill in the gap in their options rather than because they actually want to; they always mess around, don't concentrate properly and take the notes they need to but don't participate when we do group tasks. This results in whoever I end up being grouped with sitting to one side having their own conversation while I do the work we've been set. I think Miss Green realises this, though, as she always gets them to read out the results from the work I've done and tell her what the conclusion is, which they hate because they barely have any idea what the experiment was, let alone what the outcome was supposed to be.
I walk over and stand under the shade of a tree near the coach, unnoticed by most except the teachers. I'm fine with that. Blending in and going unnoticed is far more preferable than being singled out for mockery, so I lean against the trunk of the tree, fish out my sunglasses and put them on. Miss Green looks in my direction and walks over.
"Hi Rachel," she greets me. "Looking forward to the trip today?"
"Of course," I smile.
"Have you decided what you'll write your report on yet?"
I nod. "I'd like to do it on the different species of cat they have at the zoo. They've got quite a few endangered ones which they're working on a breeding programme for, and it seems really interesting. I've already thought of some questions I'd like to ask," I added.
"That sounds great," beamed Miss Green. "If you need any help thinking of questions or what to put in your report, just ask. I'm sure if you're polite they'll be happy to share some of their research with you."
"Of course." I nod at her again and she moves back to Mr Pritchard, who clears his throat and raises his voice over the students to ask for them all to gather round so he can take a register. He whips through the names quickly and then ushers us all onto the coach. I quickly grab an empty window seat and put my bag on the seat next to me. After all, nobody voluntarily sits next to Rachel Parker. I stopped hoping someone would long ago; after all, I wouldn't want to engage in conversation with any of the people here. The girls are all too bitchy for my liking, and the boys are all egoistic jerks who engage in arm wrestles most lunchtimes to show off their muscles and prove who's strongest. Yawn.
"Hey, Mitch, why don't you sit next to Parker!" some boy yells from further down the coach. I peek round and see that one of the boys in my year, a boy of about five-foot-nine with dark brown hair and a handsome face, is paused in the aisle near a group of his friends. There aren't any empty seats near them; only a few spare ones at the back. And the one next to me. Okay, I admit it, there is one person in the whole of our year I wouldn't mind sitting next to me. I can count the number of people in our year who haven't joined in the teasing and the jokes on one hand- one didn't stay long enough to find out what they say about me, and the second was a foreign exchange student who didn't know enough English to understand most of the things they said about me. The third is Mitchell Darco, a boy who keeps himself to himself, hangs out with the middle group in terms of popularity and a boy I've never heard say a bad word about anyone. It wouldn't surprise me if he has joined in the jokes about me somewhere along the line- most people do just to fit in, but of course I don't hear everything that gets said about me. All I know is that he's never said things about me within my hearing distance, which the all students but these three have done.
I ignore the jibes, put my earphones in and press play, acting nonchalant, as if I don't care if someone chooses to sit next to me. Nobody does, so Mitchell must have found another seat. I relax and stare out of the window as the coach pulls away, watching cars and grey buildings go flashing by. It seems almost illogical that nature can thrive in a zoo so close to the heart of the city, which seems to be ruled by machines and rich men in expensive suits.
Even in the busy London traffic, the journey passes in a flash and the coach is pulling under a wrought iron arch into the car park. Some of the rowdier students start whooping loudly and Mr Pritchard asks them to calm down.
Once the coach stops and the driver opens the door, the teachers step off before the students quickly follow. I wait for everyone to pass as usual, and for one embarrassing moment Mitchell's eyes meet mine as he passes. Then they move on and he's gone, replaced by noisy, pushing boys. I get off the coach last and Miss Green moves round handing out worksheets on the information we need to gather during our day while Mr Pritchard explains the day to us- we'll be split into two groups and travel around the park in these groups, doing particular activities in the morning, meeting for lunch and swapping activities with the other group in the afternoon. With relief, I see that I'm in Miss Green's group, along with some of the girls from my Biology class, a few students from the year below me, and Mitchell Darco and two of his friends. I glance at the rest of the sheet; the work doesn't look too difficult. Most of the basic information about the zoo we need I've already got due to my research. At that moment, the teachers call for their respective groups to gather round and we set off around the zoo, seeing the gorilla kingdom, the reptile house and Komodo dragons, the squirrel monkeys, the otters and the rainforest life section, which was incredible- a living, breathing rainforest right in the middle of London! That was my favourite part of the morning, but I was looking forward to seeing the big cats in the afternoon the most. That and the special surprise planned for us, whatever that was.
We meet up outside the café and everybody spreads out to choose somewhere to sit. I head onto the grass and pick a spot next to the small lake. I fish my jumper out of my bag, spread it on the grass and sit down, or no doubt my mum would complain about the grass stains in my jeans. I'm just about to get out my lunch when, to my surprise, someone sits down next to me. I look up and find the chocolate-brown eyes of Mitchell Darco looking back at me.
"How come you're not with your friends?" I ask sceptically.
He shrugged. "They wanted to go off and play football, and they tried to get me to play but I'm not really interested. Besides, I thought you looked like you could use some company."
"Thanks," I say awkwardly. "But I take it you've heard the stuff people say about me?"
"Tiger stripes?" He grinned, and I glared at him. "I think they look pretty cool, actually."
"You do?" I freeze, wondering whether he's taking the mickey out of me or genuinely serious. "You're not joking?"
"No. Why would I be?"
"Everyone else does," I tell him. "I wouldn't blame you if you did too."
"I wouldn't do that," replied Mitch. "I prefer to meet people before I decide what I think about them, and I never judge books by their covers. So far, you seem nice."
"Thanks," I say again, humbled by his words. Somebody actually bothering to talk to me and be nice to me at the same time is something I'm not used to; not from students, anyway. It's only the teachers who do that, until now. My stomach growls slightly- luckily not loud enough for Mitchell to notice- and I get my lunch out of my bag. He gets out a sandwich and takes a couple of bites and then continues talking.
"So how come you don't make more of an effort to talk to people?" he asks. "Not that I'm being rude, I'm just curious."
"None of the girls in our year are people I'd be proud to say I'm friends with, let's put it that way. They all seem to be so… I don't know… concerned about their appearance all the time. And when I overhear their conversations, as soon as one of them walks out, one of the other girls will start bitching about her. I don't want to be friends with people like that."
"That's understandable," agreed Mitch. "What about the guys?"
"They all join with the girls," I say uncomfortably, thinking of his friends. "Only three haven't- a foreign exchange student, a boy who only stayed for a few weeks before swapping schools again, and you. Well, as far as I know, anyway. They could have talked about me out of earshot."
"I haven't," said Mitchell.
"So there's just one person in the whole school who likes me. Great," I sigh sarcastically.
"Better to have one good friend than lots of people you know," said Mitchell, surprising himself. He'd only been talking to this girl for fifteen minutes and already she had him wanting to dispel the loneliness surrounding her.
"I guess," I agree, masking my surprise. Mitchell actually wants to be my friend? More than that; my good friend? Did he actually mean to say that? I can see some surprise in his eyes, and guess that he hadn't entirely planned to. But he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. Right? An awkward silence ensues until Mitchell suddenly breaks it.
"I didn't mean to blurt it out like that, but would you like to be friends?" he asked. "You seem like a really nice person and it can't feel too great having to sit on your own all the time."
"Okay," I smile. "That'd be nice, thanks." If it was anyone else, I think I'd feel offended by the obvious sympathy in his voice- I don't want anybody's pity. But he seems like a genuine person, so I can't really refuse.
"Cool! Anyway, I need to buy my younger sister something- I promised I'd get her a present from the gift shop, but I have no idea what to get her."
"I'll help," I offer. Mitchell beams at me and we pack away our eaten lunch and head to the gift shop, where we find a beautiful wooden carving of a penguin, her favourite animal according to Mitchell. He goes to the till to pay and comes back with a bag containing the little statue in a gift box and padded out with tissue paper.
"I think she'll love it," he smiles. "Thanks for helping me; it would have taken me ages to find something on my own."
"No problem."
As we leave the gift shop, the teachers call us over and we separate into our groups. Mitchell's friends appear and they stand next to him. I try to look like we just happen to be standing next to each other, but I can't shake my awareness of him, and I wish his friends had someone else to talk to so we could carry on our conversation.
Miss Green's voice catches my attention and reminds me about the tigers. Mitchell Darco disappears from my mind as she indicates a large, camouflage-green truck with the windows taken out and 'safari tours' painted on the side and we all pile on. A man is sitting in the driving seat and two young women are already in the back, wearing zoo uniform. I guess that they must be tour guides and hurry to the back of the truck to grab a window seat.