The pellets of rain hit the window at a quickening rate, each drop bursting as it hits the glass, shattering into a hundred tiny forms of itself. Watching the rain is the most entertaining thing to do right now, it's either that or listening to Mr Morris explaining the impacts of the changing car industry in Malaysia for the second time.

"Now, let's not forget about the privatisation of Malaysia's largest car company!" As soon as I tune into what my awful Geography teacher is droning on about, my attention returns to the gloomy November weather outside. It takes all my effort not to just slump onto my desk and fall asleep and I probably would've done if I hadn't had felt a nudge on my shoulder.

I turn to my side to see Talia Willis holding a folded up piece of paper. I don't fail to notice the barely concealed smirk on her face as she hands the paper to me. It widens when she speaks. "Uh, a note for you from Stacey."

I glance at a brown-haired girl sat snickering a few seats away from her, her eyes expectant as she watches me.

Raising an eyebrow at Stacey, I unfold the paper. My eyes are graced with a doodle of a pig with frizzy red hair, underneath she's jotted: 'heard what hppnd ystrday LOL how about trying 2 loose some weit soon??'

If anything, the picture makes me want to burst out laughing. I mean, I'm crap at drawing myself, but this looks like it's been done by a blind-folded three year old with no knowledge of how to hold a pen. The incident Stacey's written about only wants to make me laugh a little harder. Yesterday I'd broken one of the Chem lab's rusty chairs which was amusing if anything.

But I've got to admit, Stacey's put some effort in, the red biro-ink scribbles matches my dark red hair perfectly and the snout for a nose? Couldn't be closer to the real thing.

I already know the motive for this lovely note; it's because of something I did three years ago. Three years. Stacey's friends with Elle, a girl who hates my guts, all because of something that happened when we were fourteen years old.

I'd forgotten to invite her to my Harry Potter-themed birthday party (back then she wasn't so evil) and when Elle found out, she stormed into my house, pointed a finger at me and yelled a number of insults. She was outraged at the idea of being- accidentally- left out. Unfortunately, it was pretty difficult to stay serious at the time as my Dumbledore beard was falling off my face, so when I started- again, accidentally- laughing she got pretty pissed.

Years later, she still hasn't forgiven me. I'll mention that if you're friends with Elle, you've got to like who she likes and hate who she hates. And that's me. As well as a load of other people, I can add. Elle likes making enemies, I just happen to be her nemesis.

She's also told everyone how I used to be a 'fat lump' in primary school, hence the drawing of a pig before me. I roll my eyes. At nearly seventeen I've lost my puppy fat, and may still be a bit curvy, but I care as much as I do about the likes of Stacey and Elle. Which is nil.

'This is your best written work yet!' I scrawl on the other side of the paper before reaching forward to hand it to a guy sitting near Stacey. He passes it back to her and I enjoy the insulted look on her face as she reads my reply. She shoots me a dirty look before passing the note to Elle who in turn scoffs at me. I give them my most charming smile.

At that moment the Geography teacher from next door's classroom pokes her head in through the doorway; she looks frantic and quite frankly scared for her life. "They're going to have a fight!" she declares breathlessly. "I won't be able to handle another one, I swear- just get in here!"

Mr Morris looks like he wants to do anything else than go and attempt to break apart two angsty, Muhammad-Ali-aspiring thirteen year olds from next door's class. When we all start hearing vulgar swearing and startlingly loud thuds coming through the walls, he finally goes, and rather slowly at that.

Just before he exits the classroom, however, he turns to us and gives a warning look. "Just sit here, quietly."

As soon as he leaves the class erupts into a noise of chatter.

I sigh in relief before standing up and heading towards Imogen. She looks up at me with a dark expression.

"I swear if I hear one more word about bloody cars, I'm going to strangle that idiot of a teacher with his own bloody intestines," she complains with a sour scowl.

"Blimey." My eyebrows shoot up as I laugh at my friend's moodiness.

"Take it as a heads up. The only thing getting me through this lesson is knowing I'm going to Sam's this evening. Are you?" Imogen leans back; tipping the back legs of her chair backward as she inspects Sam Hampton, a guy she's had her eye on for a very long time.

"No," I immediately reply. "I still haven't forgotten the last party we've been to." Awful memories of having a guy throw up all over my shoes plague my mind. I immediately attempt to push them out my mind as soon as I feel my gag-reflex triggering.

"Nooo, please! I'll keep you out the way of Trevor, I promise I'll make sure he doesn't puke again-"

"You'll be too busy having a tongue-war with Sam." I glower.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be complaining if I did have one," she says, still gazing at Sam who's currently attempting to shove a pen down the trousers of a guffawing boy sitting in front him. I try not to sigh.

"Why? He behaves like an eight year old."

"Why?" Imogen proclaims dramatically. "Because I'm practically in love him, that's why!" Sam is the third boy Imogen's 'in love' with, or so she thinks.

"Right." I can't fight off the grin on my face, Imogen notices it and gives me a playful smack on the arm.

"It's true! I mean, have you seen him?" We both turn to look at Sam, as juvenile as he is there's no denying that he is kind of cute. But that's literally it.

"Yeah but have you listened to him?" I ask, suppressing a smirk as I recall a recent Geography lesson in which we found out he thought Taiwan was the capital city of Thailand. That'd been a real low moment for Mr Morris considering he's been Sam's Geography teacher for five years.

"Stacey gave me a lovely note, by the way," I say, nodding my head towards Stacey and Elle who are currently laughing raucously at something far too loudly, probably because want everyone's eyes on them.

Imogen raises her eyebrows, her dark hair swishing as she turns to look at them. "What did the little cow say?"

Already I can sense her temper rising, she gets more pissed off about the whole Elle debacle than I do. In fact, Imogen gets a lot more pissed off at things than most people do.

"It's nothing," I say, "look, can we go back to talking about guys?"

"WHAT? I'm gone for two minutes and you're all talking!?" Mr Morris' shrill voice reverberates through the room. We all turn toward him. A hand flies to Imogen's mouth to cover a laugh while my eyes widen. Mr Morris is sporting a split lip and far more dishevelled blonde hair than he had done earlier.

"Disappointing," he spits, shaking his head as he strides back to the front of the classroom. His eyes scan over all of us, pausing on me, maybe because I'm the only one sitting on a desk.

"Now I was going to make the rest of the lesson a free debate, but considering you've all already done some discussing," he says, his mouth twisting into a triumphant smile, "I guess we'll make posters instead." This doesn't get the result he's hoping for. None of us moan since making posters is pretty easy.

Mr Morris seems to realise this.

"And because you were all talking, I want you to get into alphabetical order so I can get you into sorted groups," he orders, folding his arms and giving us all a glare. This time his instruction is met with a complaining groan. I notice Imogen shooting a particularly murderous look towards him.

"I swear, that man is evil," she hisses through gritted teeth. We both get up together before Imogen strides off huffing.

I start to look through the forming line of my classmates for the two people who are always either side of me whenever we get into alphabetical order in Geography: Georgia Oakton and Levi Parker. The latter always makes me regret having a surname that's almost the same as his.

Georgia's perfectly fine, she's sweet actually. But Levi on the other hand... Not such a delight.

At best, he can be indifferent. At worst? A arrogant, egotistical arse. Any time we've had to sit in line alphabetically or work together has not resulted in pleasant memories. They've either been awkward or humiliating for reasons I don't fancy reliving.

If he were confident I'd totally be understanding, expectant even. Levi Parker has plenty to be confident about, he's the school's golden boy. How can he not be with his... well everything? Seeing him now, sitting on the edge of a table while the queue forms around him proves that.

He's already got a handful of amazing grades under his belt, a practically promised place at some prestigious university and if that isn't enough, he has the looks of a flaming model. It's hard to admit, especially considering how much I dislike the guy, but if you deny it you'll be accused of being a liar.

He's all bright brown eyes that are perfectly complemented by his golden brown hair, tan complexion and tall lean body. He's got that and an insufferable arrogance paired with being spoilt witless and earning the title of the biggest jerk to those he feels don't deserve his attention.

It's ridiculous that even then, he still has the majority of girls at Wickworth High's ovaries going. I scrunch my nose, not understanding how you can overlook such things in a guy.

The things that actually matter, qualities like being kind and funny and warm are ones that Levi doesn't have. Someone who does, however, is my boyfriend. Ryan isn't in this class, if he was it would be way more bearable.

"Hey!" Georgia suddenly pops up in front of me, giving me a start and snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Hey." I grin back at her. We both walk over to Levi and the rest of the assembled line.

"What's up with Mr Morris lately?" Georgia asks, shaking her head. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like secretly signing him up to anger management lessons."

"He has been more of a grouchy prick than usual." I nod, thinking of how he'd shouted at a student for not knowing the date earlier this lesson (even though he was the one asking).

"Oh my god, I totally thought he was going to murder Oliver the other day," Georgia says with wide eyes.

Mr Morris did indeed look like he was about rip Oliver Fink's head off and beat him with it last Tuesday when he found the student simultaneously flirting and vandalising school property. Whilst being a bit of an idiot, Oliver's also my best friend. I remember wanting to clobber him myself when he told us Mrs Murrell, our head teacher, is now considering a week's expulsion for any more wrongdoing.

We carry on talking about our half-mad Geography teacher until we're put into groups. Georgia doesn't get sorted with me, instead I'm with Levi and a couple of other kids. One of the desks we sit at is Elle and Stacey's and I notice how even the stationery they have sprawled across it looks expensive.

"I had a rough night last night and I'm gonna take this time to recharge a bit, 'kay?" Davina Paisley, one of our group, says, giving us a look that's way too scary to argue with. She then shoves her bag onto the desk and drops her head on it. Not even a minute goes by and she's gone. One down.

Ayush Rajal doesn't even pay attention to the task sheet that's handed to him, he tosses it onto the table before turning round to talk to one of his friends sitting behind him. Two down.

Levi takes the sheet, his eyes travel down it before looking up at me, he's the only one left paying attention. When his eyes meet mine I feel unnerved by the way my pulse involuntarily picks up and I tell myself not to get peeved at whatever idiotic thing he's about to say.

"I don't need to go over this. I already get it," he says disinterestedly, shrugging. I look back at him with an expression of distaste. "Have fun." He slides the sheet toward me.

"What?" I ask, anger rising up within me. "I'm not doing this by myself."

Levi simply shrugs. "Don't do it then." He ignores my noise of protest as he too turns around, facing Elle who's sitting at the table beside ours.

A delighted-looking Elle abandons the pen she's writing with to slink up to him and throw her arms around his neck.

I forgot to mention that the dickhead's girlfriend is Satan's very own spawn. Looking down at the instructions sheet that's sitting so near toward Stacey's note I realise they're a match made in heaven.

Wait, actually... I think I mean hell.