* four hours earlier *
From the moment I had gotten of that old bus I knew I wasn't going to like this place. The courtyard in front of the school was dead. There was no life there, except for the mentally dead brats that stomped over and the yellow weeds. The was a patch of dirt that seemed... grayish? I sighed remember my drap first encounter. My other classes had been like the courtyard looked like.
First period was hell: History 4. You would think that only smart people would be there, but no; I sat in the back of a classroom, surrounded by chattering idiots that were more interested in making dick jokes than actually paying attention. Not that the teacher was doing a particularly enthralling introduction, but still. We're sophomores! Not three year olds. Or twelve year old actually; three year olds making those kinds oh jokes would be scary.
Second period was the same thing, just a different subject. The people who seemed to be the most interruptive never were bothered by the teachers, or other students for that matter. As far I as I could tell from those classes, life was gonna be hell.
As I sit in third period, zoning out from what our babbling English teacher is spazzing on about, I'm starting to notice something. There are no sick jokes made in this class, no annoying tittering. I looked around the room. It's not like they aren't here. They're sitting in the front, doing the same thing, still without the teacher noticing. I sighed propping my head in my hands. Then I heard it.
This eritating clicking noise, coming from just behind me. I quickly glanced over to where it was coming from. There sat a boy with shaggy brown hair, clicking his pen open and closed. I also noticed that he had the entire back row to himself, and that there was only a few other people in my row. It was like the back was being avoided. Now that I thought about the noise again, I could hear it, a lot clearer. It was getting on my nerves.
I glanced up at the teacher, who was smiling sweetly at the backs of the assholes who weren't paying attention in the least. I sucked in a breath, whipped around and glared at the kid. He wasn't even paying attention to the class; she was staring out the wind on the left. I growled as he continued to click away at his navy blue pen. "PST." I said quietly, trying to stay out of trouble, and not scream at him. He turned his head, meeting my gaze with his baby blue eyes. He cocked his head, giving me a polite look. He paused his clicking making me want to cry in relief.
"Can you stop clicking that thing?" I hissed, trying to make sure he would stop. He looked at me for a second, then opened his mouth to say something, when I felt someone staring at me. I turned my head a bit, and stared straight into a gaze that wanted to stab me with multiple knifes and feed me to the swine. The kid responsible for this gaze was a boy; fluffy blonde hair, and hazel eyes so bright they looked like a dark shade of yellow. He was glaring at me out of the corner of his eye, and if I hadn't known better, I would have assumed that he was snarling. Growling even.
"I'm sorry," came a quiet voice behind me. I glanced back to see the pen clicker kid, who was looking at the blonde. He casually turned back to me. "I didn't know it was bothering you. I'll stop." He smiled kindly. I simply nodded, turning back to the front of the room. I could still feel the gaze of the blonde on me, boring into my skull like a drill. The other people towards the back of the class squirmed, some talking to each other under low breaths, throwing glances at me.
Luckily for me, the bell rang, and kids began to file out. The teacher seemed like she was trying to say something, but I couldn't hear her over the rush from the hallway and the loud shouts of the dickheads. I was slowly getting my stuff, watching the blonde carefully. He had put all of his things on top of his desk and was now leaning on it, his arms folded in a menacing way. He was still glaring at me out of the corner of his eyes, and from my angle through my head, I could tell that this kid was built. Like, really built. Like, 'I-could-fuck-up-a-football-player' fit. I gulped. I suddenly felt like I knew why the back of the class was deserted.
Suddenly the kid in the back stood up, walked right past me and up to the blonde. He paused then kicked the boy in the shin. I flinched, but the blonde showed no signs of any kind of pain. He just looked down a bit at the brunette. The brunette turned and started walking towards the door, and the blonde threw me another I'm-gonna-rip-your-voicebox-out glare before turning and following him. I sat silent for a moment, before sliding the white price of printed paper with my schedule on it out.
Gym.
I sighed to the empty classroom.
"Fuck."
