Kilmore Society and Him

May I propose that we retain our old surnames? It makes things so much easier... anyway. If that's not good, then.. we'll just think of something shall we?


Taking the tram to and from school is one of life's mundane tasks. Nothing could be more dreary (or more horrifying) than being squashed into a hirsute, rotund and profusely-sweating man, whose armpits are in desperate need of deodorant, day after day. Believe me, I would say something comforting like... the smell of pungent BO leaves one's nostrils after a while but it doesn't, not ever. But really, the pain of travelling of home is alleviated by Him .

He (I have not yet discovered his glorious name), goes to St Evans and is the object of my (as of yet) one-sided affections. Soon I will be able to say that He and I have held such a passionate relationship for four years. Yet, 20 MINUTES PER DAY IN HIS AWESOME PRESENCE IS NOT ENOUGH.

Bah, why did Kilmore [um yeah.. go Linh...] have to be located in such a dodgy place? Why could it not have been situated in the inner-city like all the other prissy private schools? WHY?! And now, because of that, I am reduced to a mere 10 MINUTES with him His per trip!!! Argh, the pain.

Calm, Anna, calm. One has to be grateful for everything that she has. Twenty minutes a day of Him is surely enough. Anymore and you might be overcome by His chiselled visage, His sweet smell...

No! I must concentrate on Latin! (Why does it seem like my wandering from the subject at hand is becoming a common occurrence? How strange...)

portabam
portabas
portabat
portabamus
portabatis
portabant

I see that we're all sitting in hierarchical order. Here, I sit in the second row of our class. Next to me is Jen, one of my friends who is currently staring into mid-space with her pen halfway between her paper and mouth. Then, on my other side is Steph, a nice enough girl who is every bit as much a normal person as I, or Jen, am. Our row is made up of the average mass of Kilmore Ladies' College [um, I kinda forgot what you said Linh about the school...]. All of us are neither outstandingly popular, nor are we the dregs of Kilmore society. We are the Norms.

In the third row are those that make up the highest echelon of our year level. Among them are the Peroxides who dress with their top button of their dress undone, foundation liberally applied and ponytails all to the side. In fact, I see that Autumn is there and actually working. Well, if the sun does rise from the west, it's amazing. I see that she still hasn't re-dyed her hair. Shame.

Finally, in the front row are the Rejects. Simply put, if you aren't exceedingly popular or just normal, then you're a Reject. Harsh, isn't it? It's said that a newcomer to Kilmore has until the end of recess to not be relegated into the lowest of the lows. Any dirty tactics can be used to gain entry into one of the other sets, but woe to those who find themselves stuck with the title of Reject. To rise from the status of Reject is something that has not yet been done in all the history of Kilmore and if done, will surely be a legend.

Gosh, it's a dog-eat-dog world, isn't it?

[I have a feeling I might have made A LOT of typos and errors, so like... feel free to edit. xD]
[edited by Audrey.]