The ground on which the school is situated, and the school itself, are pretty large. A beautiful sign saying, 'Westhall', is curved over the humongous front gate, which had students flowing out of and into the school. Behind the school is a massive football field, followed by even more, albeit smaller, buildings. 

As I meander towards the front gate, I spot a girl and boy in my peripheral vision. For some reason, they stand out, although I'm not sure why. The girl is trying to engage the boy in conversation, but he valiantly fends her off. When he sees me keenly looking at them, his eyes widen, and his pace inserts urgency into it. 

I quickly flip around, tighten my grip on my bag's straps, and all but run towards the front gate. I vaguely hear the sound of running behind me, dulled by the chattering and laughing of all the students, but before long it fades. 

I slow down, heaving my chest, and keep glancing back as I make my way towards the office. The secretary smiles at me as I walk in, and I instinctively smile back. She has a pretty, young face, and her smile is very real. Informing her of my name,  I ask for my timetable, and, with another smile, I turn around and glance down at the paper.

English, First Period.

Thank god. English is one of my pretty good subjects, and I really don't want my very first period at this school seeming like an idiot.

Seemingly of my own accord, I instinctively know the way to the classroom, although I'm not sure how.

It's almost like I've been here before.

Cautiously opening the door, I peek inside. Only a few students are inside, removing their books. I slide inside, closing the door softly behind. A few of them look up, but dismiss me as soon as they see someone unknown.

I scan the tables, and spot a table vacant at the back. I slip into it, dropping my bag beside me. Taking out my books, I relax against the back. 

The classroom is spacious, and fragments of sunlight are whispering through the windows. A huge table with a whiteboard behind it is dominating the front of the room, with a globe on top of it. 

As I watch, more student enter the classroom, assigning themselves their seats. Chatter, giggles and gossip fill the atmosphere, but I keep my head down, refusing to look anyone in the eye. 

Still, I hear more than a few people mumbling, "Bianca...coma..." but it seems like no one is brave enough to approach me. 

When I hear the teacher enter, and a few mumbled good mornings, I finally raise my head.  Just as the teacher, who is a tall woman with a kind face named Miss Holly, is handing out a revision sheet, a girl tumbles into the classroom, with a flustered face, and stumbles into the seat next to me.

Barely sparing her a glance, Miss Holly says in a tired voice, "I hope this doesn't become a habit, Louisa."

"It won't, Miss." Louisa says, a sheepish smile on her delicate face.

The paper is handed to me, and I glance down at it, still vaguely surprised that Louisa elected to sit next to me.

"Hey I'm Louisa, who're you? New right?"

The words flew out of Louisa's mouth, whispered.

"Ummm...I'm Bianca."

"Oh hey Bianca, nice to meet-" Her words were cut off as Miss Holly stands up to take a round across the class. I look at the paper, my eyebrows furrowing as I read the first question.

Identify the pronouns in the given sentences, and change the sentence from active voice to passive voice.

Wait...what? Active and passive? I haven't learned that in school yet!

The rest of the questions were equally confusing. I hadn't been taught these yet!

Are these even year nine questions? (A/N Yep, Bianca is in Year Nine, fifteen and extremely close to sixteen. So, three years ago, she was in Year Six. So...she has a Year Six education. And, yes, the question is pretty easy.)

Carefully looking around the class, I saw that the rest of the people were attempting the questions with ease, and some even on the next page. I look back down, determined to get through this paper.

I labour through the questions, determination etched on my face. I finish a few minutes after Louisa, and as I walk up to the teacher to submit, everyone's eyes flick over to me, and I feel hotness rise in my cheeks, no matter how much I restrain it.

Being in this school may be harder than I expected.