A new start. A new school.

The only problem is,I have to go eight hours without blogging,without reading,without fangirling.

It isn't such a problem for others,because there not weird like me. There not the type who jump and scream when someone mentions something like The Maze Runner or The Hunger Games,they don't dedicate their lives to people like Josh Hutcherson or Harry Styles,they don't know Divergent off by heart and reenact parts aloud whenever they feel like it.

My name is Hillary Flecher. I'm thirteen years old and a fangirl. The definition for fangirl:ˈfanɡəːl/

"a female fan, especially one who is obsessive about comics, film, music, or science fiction.

"your average fangirl, despite the implication of the name, is a grown-up"

Just because we don't shut up,doesn't mean were crazy,doesn't mean were weird.

There's a reason behind us liking all those things..

As a kid I grew up with books,I would read always,I was always happy. But things changed,I wasn't happy anymore,I clung to books. Remembering that little girl who loved those books,little did she know his much they would mean to her in the future. I can't get over books,just what they are. These paper things which are magic,transporting you to another world,helping you. Fiction is stunning,it's an escape. It's perfect.

But now I was stuck in reality. In school. Where the popular ones have everything,love,friends and boys, me? Well I'll have nothing,I'll be stuck in the library all day. Because it isn't how it is in the fan-fiction,no one will love me like that. I'll never live what I write,it's just pretend. I can fanaticise as much as I like,it won't happen.

My alarm sounds at 6:30Am the Phineas and Ferb theme tune. I figure it never gets old. But it's pretty painful,it just makes me want to go back to summer where I can spend day after day,week after week watching two extraordinary a instead brothers build roller coasters,time machines,portals to mars with a sister Candice who won't stop busting them. Even though it never works.

My reflection glares back at me. I see the same black curls,blue eyes,black eye pools and my pale white skin.

A dress in a baggy Super Dry tee-shirt,a pair of blue jeans and my green converse. Then scraping my hair back into it's usual ponytail,supported into place by a brown scrunchy.

I give my bag one last check,it's the one I've been using for years. A purple tie dye backpack,falling apart at the corners. Filled to the brim with school stuff,books and my phone hidden in the secret pocket,so I'll have a chance to post online during lunch and break. I'm not one of those rebels who spend their lessons listening to music on their phones.

I give my Josh Hutcherson poster a quick smile,he just stares at me blankly. I hop down stairs,stomping my feet,showing my parents my anger.

My mum is pouring out my cereal while my dad sits at the table,sipping Coffee while working on his laptop, he's a workaholic,there's no doubting that.

"You know if you were screaming looking at pictures of Thomas Sangster online you'd look like me dad," I say. Siting beside him.

He just laughs.

"I have no idea who that is but I'm guessing he's one of those people who are on the posters in your room," he says.

I nod as mum hands me my Cornflakes,I eat them instantly.

"Do I have to go to school?" I ask.

"Yes," mum says, "So you can get qualifications so you can get a job,"

"But I don't need a job!" I whine "Everyone's telling me I've gotta grow up and I don't see what's so great about being an adult. I want to be who I am now,that age when I'm discovering what life truly is. And I know what it is for me,being passionate and devoted to the things I love without anyone caring,"

My mother sighs.

"Hillary,you need to understand that these books and these movies won't be there forever,soon you'll have a family,and you'll forget about them,"

"I don't wanna forget," I say, voiced raised, beginning to get extremely pissed off "I'm not,maybe I will a little but not completely. You don't know the truth! You don't know why I like them,and I'm not telling you!" I throw the chair back and storm out of the kitchen "I'm walking!"

I storm down my front path,having no actual idea where my new school is, maybe I'll just skive, that'll teach my parents a lesson. I reach for my book in my back 'Four' I had all-ready read it and there's no harm in reading it again.

I'm almost at the brink of escaping reality when I crash into someone. My book falls to the floor.

"Shit." I mummer. Picking it up,I regain myself when I see someone staring at me. A beautiful girl,my age with see-green eyes,long cherry read hair with a thick suiting fringe.

"Sorry," she sighs.

"It's fine," I say.

"I'm Christina," she smiles, her lips are Ruby red like her hair.

"Hillary," I say,smiling back "Do you know where school is,I'm new,"

"Yeah,come with me,"

"Thanks,"

We walk for a little while in awkward silence until luckily,Christina decides to break it.

"So you like reading?" She asks.

"Yeah," I say. A little to eagerly "What about you?"

"Yes,I love them. There the escape I've always wanted,"

"I bet you're parents don't hate you for them,"

"Oh they do! I wouldn't call it hate but they keep nagging me about going out instead stuck in my room all day. They want me to go out,go places when they don't understand that were opening up words by flicks of pages. Schools,arenas,Glades,factions. We travel more than anyone. God that felt so good to get off my chest!"

I laugh.

"That's exactly how I feel,I'm glad I'm not alone,"

"Well you aren't,it was written on a blog. There called 'The escapee'

I gasp.

"That's mine!"

She looks at me in shock.

"I don't believe you!" She looks like she's about to burst into tears.

"Believe it," I say. A wide smile on my face. "Why are you so shocked?"

"Oh,no reason."

"Come on?" I nudge her.

"Your blog saved me,I've always wanted to meet you. I followed your account since the day it began,liked every post, when your KIK was up I spent every day in an attempt to pluck up the courage to talk to you,to say thanks for what you did. But I could never do it,I wanted you to notice me,"

That's when it flashes through my head.

"I did,I noticed about everyone who followed,"

It's now when I realised we've approached the school gates.

The building looks like a prison,there's too many classrooms which look like cells. And that's too many people nattering,I feel like I'm isolated from all of them. In a bubble which won't let me escape,no matter how hard I try.

I read this in a book once:"I think fitting in is highly overrated. I'd rather just fit out... Fitting out means being who you are, even when people insist that you have to change. Fitting out means taking up space, not apologising for yourself, and not agreeing with those who seek to label you with stereotypes."

We spend out lives telling people that they should be themselves,then we judge. Everyone warns to be themselves but they can't,so they pretend. I see this school as some kind of jigsaw,the pieces are of the people who fit in,it's all-ready completed.

And so there's no room for me.