Happy pancake (The third pancake 2/10)

***

“Raina…Raina Park?”
I hear a voice from the back of my mind, slowly drowning out my dreams. I try and ignore it, telling myself that it’s an illusion.
“Raina!”
I jump up from my seat. Miss Tock stares at me, after waking me up from hitting her ruler hard on my table a couple of times. My ears feel like they’re splitting from the noise, but I focus harder on her stare, than her actions.
“Listen,” She demands, “No falling asleep in my lessons…do you hear?!”

“Yes,”
I rub my eyes tiredly, looking from left to right. I am in a classroom, though I don’t even remember getting there. I notice a girl, sitting on the right hand side of me. She focuses intently on the PowerPoint, making careful notes in her notebook. I try to get a proper glance of what she’s writing- but she notices, and smiles at me.
I quickly look away, hoping she’s not thinking badly of me, and take my diary out of my bag.
Instead of making notes, like everyone else, I decide to doodle drawings on the inside cover. I draw a flower, and colour it in with my blue ball point pen. I notice the same girl looking at me, as if she’s interested in what I’m doing. I look at her, as she makes eye contact.
“What you doing?” She whispers, leaning across her table. I look at her, surprised.
Was she talking to me?

I look around the room, but no one looks back at her. I point to myself, asking her whether she’s talking to me. She nods, and smiles.
“Flowers,” I tell her, and Miss Tock notices. She glares at me again, but lets it pass.
“They’re really pretty,” she says, looking at them admirably.
“Thanks,” I smile at her.

“I’m yen by the way,” She tells me.
“I’m Raina,”
“My mum’s called Raina,”
Coincidence or luck?
“Really? But the name ‘Raina’ is really rare,” I ask her, astonished.
“Yeah, pretty weird? Huh?”
“Mmm,”
I notice she’s wearing the boots I saw last week ago with Hannie. I had wanted them so much, and I resisted going home before buying it- though I never bought it in the end. They were Brown Gucci’s, and they fitted her perfectly like a sock.
“Nice boots,” I say, realising that it was a weird comment to point out.
“Thanks,” She says, looking down at them, “Got them from the shopping centre a few days ago.
“Oh I see,” I say, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Someone up there seriously hates me- and they’re using any situation they can to rub it in my face. The boots I really wanted- and now someone else has them first.
I look at her a few more times, trying to remember her face the next time I see her- but get distracted when I realise that all her clothes are branded.
She must be rich…why do all transfer students seem to be rich?
I see her mouth something to me. I look at her again, trying to figure out what she was saying.
“Let’s work together,” I hear her whisper.