Amanda Webber rudged toward the school, a quiet cloud of despair hanging over her. She had no solid clue where she was going, but she had asked a few storeclerks and they had pointed her toward Uncommon School. What an odd, yet suited name for a school, she thought to herself. Especially for me, seeing as I am... uncommon. She took a deep breath and nearly gagged. She was still not used to this thick London air, even after having lived here for three months. Her aunt and uncle said this was the cleanest this air had ever been. She shuddered in disgust as she thought of thick black smog covering the city. She kept her head down most of the time, only speaking in mumbles to herself and short sentences to the storeclerks. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to go to a new school. She felt the heat of tears well up inside her as she thought of the day her parents sent her away, telling her it would be for her best interest, and she would be happier here. They didn't understand that no matter where she was, she'd never be happy, never be normal. As she thought back, she absently pulled her thin leather gloves that matched her skin tone perfectly from her jacket pocket and slipped them on. That way, if she did accidentaly touch someone she wouldn't see anything and the teachers wouldn't be looking at her close enough to notice she had gloves on. She bit ehr lip as she approached the huge stone building and couldn't help but roll her eyes as she thought of Hogwarts. As if she were a magical witch that would save the world and be loved by everyone. She shook her head and clutched her bag to her chest as she crept into the already crowded building, dodging people and weaving through the crowd gracefully, thanks to ballet classes. She managed to find her first class, where she sat all the way in the back and waited for the first bell to tone. She watched teens file in, a couple staring at her as if she were an alien with three heads. She shifted, letting her bag rest on her desk long enough to allow her hands to fall to the hem of her dark blue pleated skirt. She'd always hated skirts. She pulled the hem down to hide her legs as best as she could, but with the dress barely reaching halfway down her thighs, she knew it wouldn't help. She sighed inwardly and returned to clutching her bag as if she was ready to run.