The main problem was that she was late. All the seats she could see were filled, and she glanced around, knowing the driver tended to make quick turns that, if she remained standing, would send her flying into the wall, an outcome she did not want to see happen due to this situation.

"You can sit here," a male voice said, and she looked up to see the one available seat was next to an also-redheaded man about her age in the back of the bus. Relieved by his kind eyes that contrasted the sharp glare of the rest of Pasadena, she hauled her shoulder bag behind her and sat.

"Thanks," she breathed, wondering whether the socially appropriate thing to do was start a conversation or not.

As it turned out, the decision wasn't hers to make, as he began speaking. "I'm Kirby. What's your name?" His hand reached out, awkwardly suspended in the air as if waiting for something.

"Ailish," she replied. She stared at his outstretched appendage for a moment before realizing, of course, she was meant to shake it. Four years after leaving for college, and she still hadn't quite grasped the idea of interacting easily with her peers, since most of her early life was spent focusing on school and avoiding the harsh assumptions everyone seemed to get when they heard the word orphan.

She carefully grabbed his hand- how strange, she thought, that we greet complete strangers by linking a vital part of our bodies to theirs- and shook, pulling back quickly and deciding to add more of her voice to possibly start a discussion. "Where are you headed?"

"PCC," Kirby told her, referring to Pasadena City College, not far from where she herself was en route to.

"I'm Caltech," she said. I phrased that entirely wrong, she decided. He probably understands, but in any other context he might think that's my name, regardless of the information he's already been provided. She had to remind herself that she wasn't at school just yet, and she cursed her inability to keep her focus on any one thing for a period of time.

"Fancy," he responded. "What are you planning on majoring in?"

She'd considered many different branches of science- her favorite subject since she'd begun school in America- but had finally settled on one that she knew would dramatically impact people's lives in the future. "Nanotechnology," she let him know, "And I'd ask about yours, but first years generally haven't decided until a few months in."

"Why do you assume it's my first year?"

"Because," she said, "You're late, and you look elated to be going." Upon seeing the look on his face, she laughed internally, while his spilled into the physical world. "You'll learn soon enough that those two things never go together."

Ailish assumed that was the end, and her emotions drew their swords for battle; half relieved to be back in the quiet, her natural element, and half disappointed to be finished speaking with the cherry-topped man who managed to amuse her with something as small as a facial expression. She waited for the inevitable clash of iron deep in her soul, where all petty human feelings had been banished in the hopes of avoiding and rising above them.

"Well," he said, surprising her and causing her emotions to take a step back and cautiously lower their weapons, "I guess I'm not your average first year, since I want to do art and design, mainly interior decorating."

"Interesting," she said, and it really was. He was different, she determined, but that had never been a bad thing in her opinion; in fact, it's the best thing there is.

"No need to look so nervous," he continued. "You can stop fidgeting and tapping your fingers now."

Was I doing that? she wondered. Was I, really?

She shook it off- though deep within she debated whether she had been or not; if so, why hadn't she noticed, and if not, what he had to gain from lying- and smiled at him, and uncommon thing to see on someone whose head was usually buried in a book or staring at a screen, always trying to add something new to her already-extensive knowledge. "Maybe you should be majoring in psychology," she told him, thinking it would be fitting, and he'd probably pass all his exams with flying colors.

What did she know, though? She could hardly hold a conversation with most people without wanting to either flee for fear of slipping up and saying something she'd regret (or completely alienating her colleagues), or strangle them. Speaking of the urge to commit murder, Shaun Douglass, who lived in her apartment building, had recently released the news that he, too, would be attending Caltech this year. I might be able to slip some poison into his drink at lunch, she thought, jokingly, of course. He had become even more irritating in the past few weeks, but it was that type that you can't explain, you just really, strongly, do not like them at all.

She needed to get her problem of drifting off in the middle of a thought solved, as it was seriously beginning to affect her everyday life.

"Maybe I should," he cut in, slicing through her fog of brain impulses like a knife through butter, so that she wasn't entirely sure why she'd begun thinking about Shaun Douglass at all.

They laughed about the idea of a decorator transferring seemingly randomly to a science of the mind.

They laughed as they exchanged contact information; both excited to have found a friend they could relate to. It was a funny thought, and they spoke about how he would even begin to learn all he would have needed to know for such a subject change as drastic as that. It seemed impossible, but amusing to suggest, a topic which many others could spin off of. By the time he got off the bus, they'd nearly forgotten that portion of the conversation, but for a while, they still laughed about it.

Oh, they laughed for nearly three months.

Hi guys! So this is about Kirby O'Neil and April's mom, Ailish, when they met. I want to make this a chapter story, so if you want that too, please leave a comment as that will motivate me to write more.

Thanks and have a great day! :)