What's love anyway?- A demiromantic who's never loved. Chp.4

Instructions

Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1140202725/ First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1094366379/ Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1121977617/ TW: LGBTQ+phobia My form, Year 7, Sienna House, settles down, though, rather reluctantly. “As you might have heard, we have a new girl joining us after your old form mate, Penelope, moved schools.”, Miss Gilbert said. No one actually liked Penny when she was still here. Well, apart from Evie and her gang. Penny was the one who was actually books-smart, and oh, how she knew it. If she wasn’t busy showing off her perfect geography test score, she would be shaming others for getting slightly less than her in history. And she wasn’t even that good! She did have the best score in geography, yes, but that’s because no one actually pays attention in the long and boring lessons that seemed to drag on for way longer than the hour we’re supposed to have. “Who’s her replacement, Miss Gilbert?” says Jake, always the class clown. Miss Gilbert rolls her eyes. She’s one of those teachers who try to be ‘cool’ and say things like ‘slay’ and ‘preppy’ when all it does is make everyone cringe. “We’ll find out soon enough, Jake.”, Miss Gilbert says. “But first, I need to take the register.” I zone out as she starts calling names and snap back when she calls mine. “Good morning, Sola.” “Good morning, Miss Gilbert.” I’m 2nd in the register since my surname is Bell. I’m before Evie Borisson and after this kid called Joshua Andrews who’s in Jake’s gang. I zone out again for a minute or so when I hear Alex get called. “Good morning, Lexie.” Both me and Alex shudder at the same time. Lexie is Alex’s deadname, but obviously no one knows except for me and him, and no one really talks to him anyway, so he hasn’t spoken up or corrected them. Too much LGBTQ+phobia all over the place, including his own family. Alex sighs, “Good morning, Miss Gilbert.” Miss Gilbert eventually finishes the register, and we hear a knock on our form room door as it opens. Mrs. Baker, the only unintimidating office lady, stands in the doorway with a kind of short girl with light brown hair and blue eyes behind a pair of silver-framed glasses. She walks into the form room, stands at the front of the class and gives a little awkward wave. “Hullo. My name’s Ashley Hill.”