[Megan Jonker]

Dear journal,
I spent an inordinate amount of time this morning picking out what to wear to school today. It shouldn't have been a difficult decision, because St. Georges Academy have quite a strict uniform of unattractive grey skirt, white shirt, red and black short tie and a grey blazer jacket. But the options beyond that are limitless... kind of.

Long white socks, or sport socks? One accentuates the curve of my calves, which are quite nice if I do say so myself. The other leaves everything bare and shows off my ankles nicely.

Black strappy shoes with an inch-high heel (the maximum permissable by school rule), or ordinary boring pumps which are more comfortable but less showy.

Hair accessories? Clip, scrunchie (dispite how much the SATC writers dislike them), ponytail, pigtails, curls, loose.

Before I started at the Academy I don't think I was really aware of how much I should be thinking about my appearance. Being homeschooled by Hazel was nice, but at the same time it was a little tedious. I woke up, threw on whatever clothes were closest, cleanest and most comfortable, worked through the work that Hazel had left for me, then when she got home from the psychiatric practice, we worked on my magic.

But now things have changed. Now I can see how other teenagers my age act around each other, and how important it is to fit into the social circles that have defined the school. I can see how appearance, opinions, attitudes, everything like that effects how popular or successful you are.

And boys.... I don't think I realised exactly how hot boys my age are. Working from home for the past three years must have segregated me from things more than I realised. When I lived with my biological parents, and when to the school nearest me, I had a crush on a boy there. He took me out on a date once, made me cry, left me there.

It's only now that I realise how childish I was. And more to the point, how childish -he- was. Trying to grab my breast in the middle of a dark movie theatre. Trying to molest me without warning, and getting me to do the same to him. Really. Jerk.

But Tyler... oh, he wouldn't do something like that. I can see it in his eyes when he enter's Ms. Danners homeroom just moments before the bell. The way his dark eyes light up as if somebody said something funny before and he's still laughing about it now. Just looking at him makes my knees go weak, yet I know he's the kind of guy who likes to read poetry and paint, write his deepest thoughts down on paper. I bet he spends time with his little sister, and helps his neighbors put out the trash.

It's just a shame he doesn't notice how good my legs look between my horrible grey skirt and my sassy black shoes.