I personally did not agree with her. Okay, so she did not look like the girl society pressurises us to look like, but then, who really does? Even supermodels who supposedly have it all have their significant flaws, like lack of brains or personality. Gemma had long curly hair that had a mind of its own and would not be tamed by any brush; big, bright brown eyes, concealed by a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses; train-tracks to straighten out her stubborn teeth, which grew more or less like her hair. She was not too great at sports either, as she was slightly pigeon-toed, and her co-ordination was not brilliant. This prevented her from dancing well or playing tennis well, or doing anything else well that required precise foot or handwork. All in all, she was no supermodel or a sports star, but the thing was, Gemma lacked neither brains nor personality.
Gemma had had many friends in primary school, where appearances did not matter. She got good grades and was loved by many. Her teachers adored her, her parents were proud of her, and most importantly, her friends stood by her. Then they got to high school and realized that appearances did matter after all. Gradually her phone stopped ringing and she often found herself eating lunch alone in the dining hall and spending more time on her studies.
By the time I arrived at Waterford, she only had two real friends, Sharon Haines and Glenda van Wyk, also school "outcasts". The three were on top of most of their classes and stuck together because nobody else would give them the time of day, unless, of course, someone had forgotten to do the Maths assignment due the next lesson, or something of the kind. The three of them were shadows in the corridor. Dust in the cupboard. Things that you do not really want around you, but that you acknowledge as just a part of life.
I first spoke to Gemma in History class. She sat at the table next to mine, but refused to look me in the eye when we talked.
