<strong>Rebecca Hall, September 4, 2012, Sixth Period, World History</strong><br/><br/>The day had sucked.  It had all began with that stupid fight in the hall.  It hadn't even involved her but she'd been a witness.  She'd tried to mind her own business, kept her head down and didn't bother anyone.  Still, it had all begun to spin downward from then.<br/><br/>First hour had been alright.  Art was fine.  She'd begun her first assignment and had sketched several possibilities.  She had only to decide upon one.  Algebra had been horrible.  Rebecca was almost certain Mr. Baker had it out for her again.  If she had answered that last question wrong instead of Helen she may've been doing the after school tutoring.  Her dad would never have let her hear the end of that.  All he needed was to be late to his second job.  She felt bad for Helen but was relieved that she'd managed to scrape by.  Still, maybe some tutoring was exactly what Rebecca needed in math.  She sure wasn't getting it on her own and she was too afraid and embarrassed in class to ask any questions.<br/><br/>Rebecca had ended up sitting alone for lunch.  All of her friends were in different lunch periods.  She'd eaten quickly and then disappeared to the library where she'd answered her father's second phone call of the day and told him she was "fine".  She was supposed to have called him while passing between fifth period and sixth but had decided not to.  She hoped he'd just let it go, but more than likely he'd call the school and she'd be summoned to the front office over the loudspeaker.  World history promised to be a real snoozefest, so maybe being called to the office wouldn't be too bad.<br/><br/>She tried to convince herself that avoiding class was a good idea.  Skipping English III and Theater would've been better than attending.  The fiasco in Theater had made her want to cry.  Luckily, two years of being a nobody was enough to make Becca realize that crying would only bring unwanted attention to herself.  Instead she'd fought back the tears and swallowed any cries.  When asked why her eyes had been red she simply blamed allergies and the dust around the stage.  In retrospect, English hadn't been all bad.  She'd managed to turn in her assignment, one of only three people, and been praised by the teacher.  That praise, of course, had turned the other students' eyes towards her in disdain.  She didn't understand why, they'd all been given an extra week to finish the assignment.  In the end, they'd all likely receive the same, if not better, grades than she did.  Thankfully, five minutes into class the hateful whispers of "teacher's pet" had stopped and only one person had decided to make anything of it after class.  Though her shoulder was still tender from where she'd been pushed into the wall.<br/><br/>As she entered World Literature she noticed Helen talking to a new girl, at least Rebecca didn't recognize the girl.  Becca wondered if there was any chance of making a new friend, but the way Helen and the tall red head were going on it seemed like the new girl was already quite popular.  Too popular to be bothered by someone like Rebecca.  She put her backpack, now laden with all the textbooks she'd been given that day, next to her desk and slipped into it quietly.  She'd taken a seat in the second row, near the door.<br/><br/>When she had second thoughts about not checking in with her father, Becca quickly fished her phone out from her pack and sent a text to her dad stating she was "fine" and then tried to quickly shove it back into her pack.<br/><br/>Their teacher, however, was quicker and<strong>"Ms. Hall, phone,"</strong>was all it took to force Rebecca to march to the teacher's desk and hand over the device.  She returned to her own desk without making eye contact with any of the other students.<br/><br/>Why did her dad have to be such a control freak?<br/><br/>It's alright, she told herself.  She could get her phone back and it would be alright.  She wasn't going to get detention.  If she hurried, her dad would get to work on time.<br/><br/>A smile came to her lips when James entered.  She didn't know why she smiled at him like an idiot.  He likely didn't even know who she was.  Still, he was too cute not to smile at even if she knew the chances of him noticing her were ten million to one.  Her head went back down.  She didn't even wait to see if he noticed.  She was certain he wouldn't.  She flipped open her notebook, took her pencil in her left hand, and began to work on some of the details for her art project.  She wondered if she should restart and use the day's events for inspiration, but then she thought that would just be too pathetic to try.  She wasn't talented to pull something like that off and she certainly wasn't Laney Boggs.