I’ve always heard people say to have a mantra; a sort of chant to remind you to keep going. Mine changed day to day, usually.

Today, it was “it’s Friday.”  Friday meant weekend, and weekend meant two days without having to see the disgusting faces of the things adults liked to call students. I liked to call them spawns of Satan, amongst other things, but I won’t bother with that right now.

I thanked winter for its cold breeze, for making me wear a giant jacket the hood of which I could easily pull down over my face. Call me a coward if you like, but I was going to avoid the spawns of Satan for as long as possible. Which, might I add, wasn’t very long. I don’t know why I tried, really. Having my luck, I was given the locker right next to the idiots, in the very dirtiest hallway of the school – a corner you would think would be specially labeled and given to the ‘lower class’ of the school, the dorks, bullied. And you would be halfway correct. Truth is, the corner isn't even half as dirty as you think you it is. When I first came to school,  I was told it was bad and dirty with paper discarded everywhere and terrible things written  on the lockers.

In other words, people say it’s like that so that the students who take up residence there don’t get bothered during their make-out sessions; the discarded paper is only snack food wrappers. The writings on the lockers are love confessions . . . in some cases.

I scowled at the stupid names people pinned on me, written not only in lipstick but permanent marker and such. I propped open my locker, trying to hurry along because I knew my locker neighbors would be showing up soon. You’d think the cool kids would be tardy and take forever,  but no. I grabbed the books for my first classes and stuffed my giant bag into the compacted space.

“Can I borrow this?” a voice asked. I turned around hastily, thinking the question was for me, then I spotted the poor kid who unfortunately got the pleasure of sharing locker neighbors with me.

“Sunbae-nim, please give it back,” he asked, not even looking up to meet the eyes of the boy taking his scarf. I felt bad, but rolled my eyes. Fight back, stupid.

“Ah, what do you think, Luhan-hyung?” The scarf thief, known as Kai – if you asked me, stupidest name ever – grinned at his friend who leaned against a locker, hands in his pockets. Beside him stood another, taller guy known as Tao. The kid wanted to act all cool and pretend his name wasn’t Huang Zi Tao.

“I’d say I’m a bit chilly, Kai,” Luhan said, getting off the locker and taking the scarf to wrap around his own neck. With that, I took my books and advantage of their distraction and bolted. Wherever these three smug idiots were, the fourth smug idiot usually followed. And I had no desire to stick around and greet my sunbae good morning.

“See you at lunch, Choi Eunhui,” Tao’s voice echoed through the student filled hall. I sighed but sped up my pace. Thank God I didn’t share classes with the jerks.

Lunch came, and I wondered if the rumbling in my tummy was really hunger or if I may have a small dog within it. I wanted to say the latter, but I headed to the canteen anyway, albeit at a slow pace, and waited for other students to pile in before I stepped in behind a large giggly group of girls who eyed me with disdain. I kept a small