This was largely due to the fact that whenever I did briefly glance at my classmates they seemed to be engaged in bizarre activities.
I ignored such carry-on. Instead I read about gutsy young girls and magic and adventure. It was easy when reading these tales to imagine myself as just like the cheeky girls between the covers. That was until the incident of the red-book. It caught my attention because everyone was talking about it. All the bigger boys would sneak into the teachers desk and read it. It was rumoured to have a page about everyone: detailing all the bold and exciting things they'd done. The teacher intended to show it to parents as punishment but my class mates treated those entries as achievements.