4th

"The most memorable people in life will be the friends who loved you when you weren't very lovable." - Unknown.

I know right from the start that it isn't going to be a good day. The moment I open my eyes, only to involuntarily shut them again and proceed to oversleep for a further fifteen minutes, I can tell that my mood is going to be less than cheerful.

The weather seems to reflect how I feel. As soon as I step outside I feel my clothing becoming saturated with icy December rain. Fog hangs low, hindering my vision of beyond a few feet in front of my face.

My failure to drag myself out of bed in time means I have to break into a sprint in order to just about manage to jump on the bus before the door closes.

At least I get twenty minutes or so to relax as the bus crawls through the early morning rush hour traffic.

❄

"I cannot believe it's tomorrow!"

"What are you wearing?"

"Do you reckon he's inviting his ex?"

"I'm so excited!"

The multitude of voices I hear at once as I step into my form room are startling. They all have the same ecstatic tone and pretty much the same message. It takes me a moment to work out what the buzz in the room is about. When I do work it out, I can't help but groan.

I scan the room for the sight of my best friend. When I spot her - firstly by her brown hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head - she's chatting animatedly to one of the popular girls. No prizes for guessing what they're talking about. I'm quick to weave my way through the maze of my class mates and desks until I reach her.

"Immy!" I exclaim, my voice surprisingly bright considering my dull mood.

"Oh, hi Scarlett!" Imogen replies, pulling me into a brief hug. The popular girl, Emily, offers me a small smile. It's as if she's unsure how to act around anyone with a below average social status. I muster a half smile back, after all she's one of the better ones.

"Em and I were just talking about the party tomorrow night," Imogen tells me. My half smile falters at her words. "But I just have no idea what to wear!" As she hears a mention of clothes, Emily – the fashion icon of the school – visibly perks up.

"Well you see, I bought this gorgeous body-con dress from Topshop at the weekend. It's black, but it's got little flecks of gold in it. I don't think I've ever loved a piece of clothing more! Well, maybe I have... but that's beside the matter! Anyway, whilst I was shopping this beautiful top caught my eye. The colour would compliment your eyes so much."

As Emily babbles on about how a certain outfit could make my best friend look like a supermodel, I wonder why the popular girls feel the need to be so animated in their speech. Almost every other word is emphasised and each sentence features some form of light headed giggle or a flutter of lashes.

Imogen sometimes slips into their habits, but I'm always quick to point it out. It's not that I hate popular people, I'm sure they're alright. Well, most of them at least. It's just that everything seems so... fake. As if all the exaggerated embraces and air kisses are just for show, a way to boost their popularity and make them the one everybody wants to be.

❄

"But surely you're at least a teensy bit excited for tomorrow?" Immy asks in a small, whiny voice.

"No," I reply stubbornly. "And stop talking in that voice."

She rolls her eyes. I take a left in the maze of school corridors, turning into the corridor that contains the block of metal lockers that, since the start of the month, have been making my heartbeat rise at just the sight of them.

"Fine. But please tell me you at least can't wait to see what Aaron is wearing. I mean, at his summer party – the pool one – he wore that shirt and he looked so hot! Do you remember? You refused to go and I found it hilarious because you missed the fittest boy in the school looking that good." Immy begins babbling, waving her hands over enthusiastically as if that would make what she's telling me any more interesting.

Honestly, I don't think anything about Aaron Dean could hold my attention. Admittedly, he's extremely good looking. But the greatness stops there with him. His flirtatiousness and general arrogance, topped of course by his mind-numbingly boring personality all make me wonder just how he's so loved. Then again, half of the popular girls seem so dim they probably can't see past his dazzling smile anyway.

"Scarlett. Scarlett! Are you even listening?" Imogen's voice, sharp and irritated, cuts through my train of thought. I turn to face her.

"Listen, Immy, I am excited," A little white lie can't hurt, can it? "But right now I'm really busy and all I've heard today is Aaron's party this and Aaron's party that. I'm going to study in the library. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" It's hard not letting my frustration show in my voice.

"Okay," Immy sighs, before her voice picks up again. "But promise me you'll come, for me?"

Unable to deny my best friend when she looks up at me through her eyelashes, thickly clad in mascara, I nod. "I'll go, don't worry. But that doesn't mean I won't moan the entire time."

"I suppose that's the best I'm going to get from you, Scar."

"Don't call me Scar," I reply, though my voice lacks any warning.

Imogen laughs then turns on her heel, easily slipping into a group of students who, with their expensive clothes and perfectly styled hair, could be simply identified as popular.

Glad to have got Imogen off my back, I quickly walk down the bustling corridor to my locker. I have to lean over James, the boy I sit by in maths, in order to reach my locker on the top row. Waiting for me is a tiny red gift bag. I swipe it and close the locker, hearing it lock with a click.

"H...hey, Scarlett," James says nervously.

He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with me as he straightens up from his locker below mine. It always beats me as to why James acts so anxiously around me; we're both equally unknown to the majority of the school.

"Hi."

"Are you going to the party tomorrow? It's all anyone's talking about at the moment," he asks.

Seriously? I can't help but think. James is unpopular and even he is talking about it.

"Yeah, Immy's making me go." I pull a face. "You?"

"Dunno." James stops talking for a moment, but I have a feeling he's got something more to say.

I wait, hoping my impatience brought on by the gift in my hand isn't making me seem too annoyed at him.

"Um, Scarlett, could you m-maybe put in a good word for me... with Imogen? Don't worry if you can't, I mean it's a long shot, but I just-"

"Yeah, sure," I interrupt, faking a smile.

I think it's best not to mention that tomorrow night the only boy my friend will have any eyes for is the most popular boy in the school who, unfortunately for James, doesn't suffer from spouts of nervous stammering and happens to have facial features similar to that of a model. It makes me feel slightly bad, seeing the way his face lights up, but right now my fingers are itching to open the present dropped off by my Secret Santa and I'm not in the mood for chit-chat.

"B...by the way, you've got a bit of an accent. Where are you from?" James asks suddenly, completely out of the blue. I sigh.

"Perth, Australia," I respond automatically, already turning around and heading towards the door. "Bye," I call, offering him a wave.

❄️

It appears there is one good happening to me today, as I spot a big, comfortable chair tucked away in the corner of my local library with no overlooking pensioners or noisy children. I sink into it, dropping my school bag beside me and smiling contently. Quickly, I pull open the gift bag and push aside the matching red and gold tissue paper.

My smile quickly drops when I see what's inside, though. Nestled in decorative tissue paper is a small koala key ring and a note. I pick up the note and read it in an instant.

Remind you of home?

Love, your secret Santa x