Whimsical naked trees bejewelled with frost lined the avenue; their long finger-like branches scrunched seemingly in terror as I walked by. The smell of burning wood and coal filled my nose as I hurriedly trudged across the snow covered street. Bitter cold seeped through my woollen mittens, numbing my fingers until they became rock solid. The gusty, eerie breeze slapped against my face , I let out a sigh of relief as I reached the entrance of the school; I glanced to my left to make sure there were no cars approaching so I could cross, when a black Lamborghini Gallardo caught my attention. At its door stood a girl, her hair was the colour of night, like the darkness of a dark cave; it cascaded down towards her shoulder in waves to adorn her natural pale porcelain – like skin. The young girl shut the door and walked in my direction; I blended into the background. She stood next to me and I could see her features more clearly: her eyes framed with lush long eyelashes were a light misty grey, her cheeks were the colour of pink roses, a straight nose and full red lips – she seemed picture perfect. Her clothes screamed brand names, her Gucci black leather fur trimmed jacket looked beautiful with the secret circus skinny black jeans and high heeled boots, in her left hand she held a large vivian satchel; she looked as elegant as a black swan. I walked behind her as she entered the school building. I could feel the sharp dark stares burning into her as she walked. People huddled in groups and snickered. She kept her confident pace as she walked down the corridor. I could hear horrible things being said: .
"She's so pathetic" .
"She should get lost".
"She thinks she's so fabulous because she's rich".
"She's so ugly".
"She should just run away, no one likes her".
"She's such a bitch".
"She causes so much drama".
"Such a loner".