Isabella Cester

Published by Isabella Cester at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Isabella Cester

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At thirteen years of age, all I wanted was a real friend. To me, that was someone who could just accept me as I am; someone to share common morals and interests with. I had come from a primary school where my classmates and I liked to play handball and basketball at lunch time, even under the beaming sunlight in the middle of February, to a private all-girls school full of fresh faces, empty handball courts, and where the basketball court was strictly out-of-bounds unless you had a P.E lesson. Between Years Seven and Eight, I think recess and lunchtime were the only two most boring parts of the day for me; sounds crazy, but they were. I felt like a puppy abandoned by its owner, although I did eventually find ways to pass the time, like drawing, catching up on homework, or hopping on to one of the computers in the library to play a game or two.

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