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Nasim didn't talk to any of the girls that week. The teachers were all kind to her and some of them remembered to speak slowly when they were talking to her, though some, like Mr. Brown, shouted. Miss Peters always smiled at her and repeated things for her, but Mr. Bead was the only one who ever sat down by her when he had set work for the others, and she always shrank away from him. Occasionally someone shouted out a remark th her, which she didn't understand but which made everyone else laugh; she burned inside with humiliation, knowing that they must be laughing at her, though she didn't understand why. Most people ignored her, even when she smiled at them, and this was even harder for her to understand.
She spent speak break and lunchtime in the classroom; if she went outside she stood alone, and she found it difficult to recognise even the children from her own class.
She didn't say anything about all this at home. (Her aunt had never been to an English school, neither had Majad or Uncle Assan. How could they imagine what it was like for her? And as for little Yasmine, she had always lived here. She chattered away in English woth a broad local accent, and had made dozens of friends at her little local school.) Nasim kept her puzzlement and her disappointment to herself, and late at night when the house was quiet and Yasmine asleep beside her she struggled to keep the thoughts of home out of her mind.
"I wish i hadn't come here," she whispered into the silence. "I don't belong."

Через гугл переводчик не надо..

это текст из учебника

и мне надо дословно было...