Sighing to himself, Sora Hashiba inwardly cursed that he was always at the bus stop way too early, and jogging in place on the curb in a struggle to stay warm. Normally, considering the bus wouldn't come for another 20 minutes, he was alone at the stop. But today was different- another teenager had been standing there when he arrived. He'd never seen the guy before. He noticed the stranger was wearing a heck of a lot of pink- the scrunchie holding his hair in it's high pony tail was pink, his sweater was pink, not to mention his eyes and hair was pink, too. His arms were crossed and his cheeks flushed, and he was sporting a glare that Sora didn't doubt could kill someone.
As if the strange teen could read my thoughts, he directed the glare at me. I looked away quickly, and didn't dare look back, Not until the bus came and the other teen climbed on, did I steal a glance at his back. Something about him was mysterious ...
Flopping into his seat for his second class of the day, he sets his bag down and waits for their teacher to arrive. Mr. Shinichiro, or Mr. S for short was late, as per usual. The door opens before long and their teacher walks in, with another person trailing behind him.
"Class, we have a new student, my son, with us as of now. Why don't you introduce yourself?"
"I'm Sunao Fujimori… Nice to um... meet you..."
Hold on, isn't that the guy from the bus stop? So he's Mr. S's son… Wow. Sora noticed that the new student- err… Sunao… seemed uncomfortable. There was no trace of the earlier glare, now he just had his arm pressed against his side and he held his elbow with the other arm's hand while his eyes were cast towards the floor. He's probably nervous or doesn't like attention.
"Why don't you sit down, there's an open seat next to Sora- raise your hand Sora." I raise my hand, and the new kid quickly sits down in the open chair.
I try not to stare at him too much.
"How was school today? Anything interesting happen?"
Sora's thoughts flash to the new student.
"Nothing much."
His foster dad, Nanami, always asks him about school, trying to get him to talk. It's not like he avoids the subject, but he finds that there's nothing to discuss when it comes to his education.
Dad walks past him with a duster in his hand.
"One of the teachers is coming over for dinner today, and he's bringing his kid with him. I think he's around your age."
Dad teaches AP biology at my high school. He doesn't have any classes after lunch, so he's always home before me.
"That's great." I walk up the stairs to my room, and flop down on my bed. My room really is a mess, with dirty clothes strewn across the floor and a bed that hadn't been made in weeks.
I don't bother to clean it.