Chapter ElevenWalking into my first fifth-year class was like walking death row. After breakfast, I’d hurried back to my room to change, hoping that putting on the uniform might make me feel like less of an outcast.
Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t to be. As soon as I reached the classroom where Witch Sociology 501 was being taught, I realised I was late.
Stepping into the room, I found that the lecturer had already begun. The room fell utterly silent when I entered, every pair of eyes turning their attention on me, several mouths dropping open.
“What is she doing here?” I heard a blonde girl hiss at the back of the room. I recognised her as one of the girls who always sat at the footballers’ table.
“Isn’t she a first year?” The guy next to her, wearing a Golden Suns’ football jacket
