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Bees. That's what they all are - a group of bees that swarm around one thing; like in soccer where all the team players run toward the ball.

I walk into my schools blue doors. The familiar old smell of the school rushed up my 'ugly' nostrils and filled my mind once again with disgust. I watch a group of girls talking in the hallway. They laugh and giggle about, flirting with boys... I think, I wonder if they feel that way - if those girls they hang out with are really their friends. These days everyone is so fake... so plastic, so artificial.

My dirty Tommy Hilfigar shoes I bought from the flea market squeaked on the floor. I passed the girls who I was watching and they quieted down as I passed by. I felt like they were thinking about me. Looking at my dirty, loose clothes; my torn up blue jeans; my unkept hair. It was like I was a weed in a bed of beautiful flowers. I felt my invisible shell come up as they continued to stare at me as I walked to the right, toward my locker. I saw the usual group of people near my locker. A boy, another boy and his friend who is a girl and a young couple about my age. I stared at them questioningly as they caressed each other and stood really close to each other. I looked away afraid to see something I did not want to. Once again I think, Do these people really love each other? Or are they just following what they think they should do? Are they just conforming to everyone else? Becoming another one of those flowers that blended in with the others? I turned my combination lock to the right numbers 5-6-7...

After getting my books I turned and left. I caught the sight of my old friends... they were now part of the 'popular' group. But, are they really popular? Half of the people that I ask say they hate that group. I don't know how I feel about them. I can't hate them, but neither can I like them after what my ex-friends did to me. It's sad and frustrating to see someone convert to something they aren't supposed to be. Just like if you saw a beautiful butterfly turn back into that low to earth caterpillar. It is highly improbably - but it is still possible. The most wonderful people suddenly lose their confidence and turn into these robots that are controlled by a stack of pages stapled together. Those horrible fashion 'helpers' teaching you workouts to make you thin and how to dress... What makes them so special to be able to say that? Why does every have to be thin? Isn't everyone just fine just the way they are?

I think so but obviously not others. I walk to my first class - Math - my fortitude. The teacher leaves the room for one moment, almost instantly my ears, which are used to listening due to the fact no one lets me talk, picks up the sound of whispers. It was two of the 'popular' girls. As usual they were talking louder than usual whispers. They were talking about me.

"Oh my gosh. Did you see what she was wearing this morning?"

"Yeah! Like, what was that? I mean that ugly baggy blue sweater and ripped jeans. I think we should give her, like, a makeover!"

"Yes... but I don't want to get my hands dirty." They started laughing hysterically. I lowered my head a bit and felt my eyes burn. I quickly wiped the falling tears away afraid that someone would notice but.. Who would? I am the ugly shadow that tails at the back of the lines and cringes every time a teacher asks a question and who wears ugly clothes.

The rest of the morning classes passed by in a hush of insulting whispers. My eyes were red from crying a bit every single time. Red like diluted blood. I rushed out of the last class looking down at my hideous shoes. I walked into the washroom and locked myself in a cubical sniffling and quietly sobbing at the same time. I walked out with swollen eyes but again, I was merely something somebody had to avoid. I would only ruin their reputation.

I walked into the small playground outside of this beehive of a school. Everything is the same in the playground with the children who are only in grade school. I see some of the little girls wearing miniskirts that barely cover their underpants and little boys who act like they are all that. What is the world turning into?

This is my seventh day in denial. How could my friends have left me? I walk slowly towards the big blue doors. A young boy runs into me he looked up at me, then snickered. I continued walking. Language Arts passed by, Health does also. It is the last period of the day: Physical Education. The subject that I dread so dearly. The subject that everyone is good at except for me. I don't mind math because I am good at it but no one else is... that is why they make fun of me. Now it is Gym - the subject that I can't beat them in. The perfect time to poke me around and tease me. I dread it.

We were playing soccer. The little black and white ball screams each time it is kicked. The ball rolls up to my feet and everyone stops. I wondered vaguely what was wrong but then I lost all thought and kicked it hard away from myself. I scored on my team. Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes. They didn't say it but I could tell they were saying it in my mind, "You're useless." A hardly heard the high pitched tweak of my teacher's whistle. A million things echoed in my mind, "You're stupid.", "You're ugly,", "What's wrong with you?", "Look at what she's wearing. Look at her ugly clothes."

I brought my hands halfway up to my head. That was the last thing I can remember.

I woke up in the hospital a day later with a minor concussion. My head throbbed and itched of blood. Apparently, someone from my team had whipped the soccer ball deliberately at me when I wasn't on earth and it hit my head - hard. When I first woke up no one was there. I was lying in the crisp, hard sheets of the hospital beds and the smell of medicine filled my nose. I coughed a bit and waited.

The door creaked open. A girl and a boy came inside. For a second I didn't recognize them but then I remembered: they were the two that were always there by my locker. They smiled as they came inside.

"How are you?" They said but I couldn't really hear what they really said. I choked out the word 'fine' and I grew quiet again. They left and once again I was alone.

In a week's time, I was back at school. Once again it was Gym and once again we were playing soccer. The person who hit me was my old friend. The recent trauma occurred once again in my mind. I asked my teacher to sit down. He let me.

The people who visited me at the hospital came to me again. Each of them sat at either side of me, "Hi!"

"Hi." I reply quietly because I'm still dizzy.

"I'm Matthew but you can call me Matt." The boy said.

"And I'm Kelsey but you can call me Kels. So, how are you?"

"Fine."

Matt looked at me, "What's your name?"

My name? I haven't told anyone my name in a long time, "My name..." Were they trying to be my friends? I didn't know exactly but it is always worth a try. I wondered for a second, should I trust them? After all, I trusted my last friends and they made me a weed in a bed of flowers. But then I had sudden realization. I was different that was all. I wasn't ugly or bad at sports or fat or a nerd. I was just a unique, and different person. I wasn't a weed in a bed of flowers. I was a beautiful, unique flower in a sea of weeds. I stared blankly for a moment, "My name is Aaryll." And I finally smiled. Finally, someone was open. Someone was there to pass the soccer ball to. We got up. We won.