Maia Mitchell As Clementine

Clementine

Guilt. Pure guilt was the only thing I felt as I sat beside Lily, her dark eyes mischievously watching as Kennedy walked away from LJ.

"It didn't work," she spits through her teeth, grabbing a hair tie and pulling her dark hair into a tight ponytail. "What did you say to ruin things!" Lily shouts at me as I stand up, grabbing my bag as I needed to head to art. I was already late, and my dad would have my head if he found out.

"I-I just told him what you said to me," I stutter, "that you'd pay him to make sure Kennedy was at the party this weekend."

Lily's face hardens and she begins to laugh, every hair on my body sticks up as she makes her way towards me, a finger pointing in my direction. "If this is all screwed up I will personally hold you accountable," she threatens before her eyes glare to behind me.

I turn around, and LJ stands behind me, glaring at her. Lily retreats backwards, but not before muttering about finishing this later. I turn to LJ behind me, his dark hair covering his eyes. He looks at me with a dark expression, get his eyes soften for a second before he walks away towards a boy covered in piercings who shouts his name.

"Crap, crap...crap," I mutter as I gather my stuff, chuckling it into my bag in an unorganised fashion. If my father caught me being late to class he would slaughter me in the front of the school.

Once I'm out of the cafeteria, and the sight of any other pupils, I start to run towards my class, desperate to make up for any time I've lost - the fact that the class was at the opposite end of Stratford High making life so much harder.

I reach the class, and sigh a breath of relief as I notice the teacher hasn't started the class yet. She smiles at me as I walk in, almost in a forgiving and acknowledging matter. My art teacher was young, maybe late twenties with two young children.

When it came to art teachers, they always stood out from the crowd. Whether it was the splatter of paint on their hands, clothes and hair or their funky attitude. They weren't afraid of being different.

   I sit down down, happy that I won't have to deal with any bossy seniors while in this class, that everyone else was a junior too. Except they all were friends with each other, I'd been plucked from them by Lily when I was 15 and had barely spoken a word to anyone my age since.

  "Portfolios out guys, it ain't gonna work on itself," our teacher pushes as she sits down at her oak desk. She removes her glasses and proceeds to rub her eyes and pushes her hands through her dark ginger hair. I get up to grab the required size of paintbrush, clenching my fist when I see that all that is left are either rock hard or missing half of the Bristles.

The amount of disrespect towards this school frustrated me, we were given this beautiful school - free of charge to learn in. Yet, others saw it as a method of unleashing their anger, whether it was issues of home or relationship based. There were people in this world who didn't get this opinion, didn't get an education, and the people in school school clearly weren't grateful for what they had.

   Others ruined it for the fun of it, someone you don't like? Write their number down in a textbook with a message saying they're a prostitute. Needed somewhere to write out your problems? Head to the bathroom walls.

The more I sat and thought the more frustrated I found myself, and my poor fruit still life was begging the anger inside me poured into it. I finally calmed myself and took a step back.

Why was I friends with lily? Why did I pity her so much? And why did I only see the scared little girl on the inside that hides underneath the hard shell?

I didn't know, but as I looked over at the other students in my year I didn't I needed a change. Moving my stuff I smile as I sit beside a curly haired boy with dark skin who was sitting himself.

He seems hesitant and first, and I then begin to paint again as he relaxes. Everyone knew me as Lily's side bitch, which meant they all assumed I was the same, and I hated that feeling.

Taking a deep breathe, I smile again and say words to someone my age I don't think I've said in three years.

"Hi, my name is Clementine."

A shorter chapter but it's nice to get into clems head, she's actually really misunderstood and I knew from the start that the "baddie" Lily's "sidekick" clem wasn't going to be a stereotypes blonde who was self absorbed or obsessed with Lily. Remember, if you enjoyed please press the star!