Good opening for my story for kids 11+?

As usual, I was the one standing as flat as I could against the row of lockers as a swarm of teenagers rushed through the corridor, naming as many as I could as they walked past. Nina Goswell and her 'crew' arm in arm, layers and layers of makeup on their faces, gossiping about boys. Tracy Moore and Emily... show more As usual, I was the one standing as flat as I could against the row of lockers as a swarm of teenagers rushed through the corridor, naming as many as I could as they walked past. Nina Goswell and her 'crew' arm in arm, layers and layers of makeup on their faces, gossiping about boys. Tracy Moore and Emily Keen texting on their phones. Jake Bradford staring at the sight before him, bronze eyes wide with amazement.

Everyone froze and slowly made way for the beautiful stranger that had entered the building. Her wavy soot black hair swayed as she made her way past the crowd, school books clutched to her chest, her mysterious goldish eyes anxious. I watched curiously as she took in the sight of all the dazzled people, shocked when her eyes rested on me for a few seconds, then watching as they stayed on Jake. The two gazed at each other as everyone started to move, then separated when the bell rang.

I closed my eyes and sighed as I sat at my desk, dumping my books. An average high school day. Constant loneliness. A day I dreaded every morning.
"Do you usually sit alone?" an unfamiliar voice made me jump. I turned to face the girl who was sitting at a desk to my right, surprised that she was actually talking to me.
"Most of the time," I mumbled.
"Hmm."
Silence.
"Do you like this school?"
I looked up from the table. "I guess. Why?"
She just shrugged.
More silence. "Which school did you come from?" I asked eventually.
"Hope School. You've probably never heard of it... it's quite far away."
I nodded, then raised my eyebrows as she slipped a notebook and a pencil of her handbag. She flipped it open and started to scratch the pencil against the paper, peeking up at me every now and then. When she was done she ripped the piece of paper out of her notebook and handed it to me. "What do you think?" she smirked as I stared in awe at the incredibly realistic portrait of me.
"I'm speechless."
"I bet you are."
"Thank you."
"No problem," she grinned. My new friend.
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