Um, I feel like I'm supposed to greet people. Uh, h-hey! Welcome to my first story on fanfiction! It's PB&J, so, yeah. Have fun and rock on, I guess!
And guys, don't be afraid to point out any mistakes, please... I can't proofread.
You stand on the curb, rocking back and forth impatiently on the balls of your feet. You glance up for the third time at the street sign, squinting as the sun reflected off of it and into your eyes. Yes, it still read 'bus stop'. Granted, you did get here fairly early, after all, you were the nervous type. You didn't want to miss the bus on the first day of school. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Yet, your knees continued to knock together. You shifted your shoulders to push the straps of your sienna-brown backpack more securely on them. You clutched your instrument (you enjoyed playing the flute, and you were quite good at it) tighter to your chest, glancing down the street for any signs of life. Bullies, mainly.
Especially since this is the first day of middle school.
Yes, you, Tavros Nitram, are only just starting sixth grade.
Anyways, bullies. You have read plenty of books about middle school, and you know all too much about the subject. Every book you read had an aggressor, and they were rough. You shuddered at your thoughts, and once again glance at the bright-from-the-sun sign.
You run a hand through your recently-styled Mohawk; you had just changed your mop of a haircut into that a week ago. You looked down at your clothes, smiling slightly at your Peter Pan on Broadway T-shirt. Over that you had a black button down shirt, and your legs displayed grey-almost-black jeans. You look down at your feet- socks with sandals was such an underestimated style- and you grin.
Suddenly, you heard footsteps come up beside you. You're heart stops and your smile falls as you spin to see who it is. Let let out a breath of relief seeing that it's only Karkat. He was a grouchy kid, but there was no way he would hurt. Plus, he was only in sixth grade too, and you could tell he was scared. Not that he would ever let it show.
"H-hey, Karkat..." you stammer.
He only grunts your name back in greeting and plays with the straps of his black-and-grey backpack. His red eyes darted around, and he flipped his ginger hair out of his face. As you recall, his hair was snow-white last year. He must of gotten it dyed for the "special occasion" that was the first day of middle school.
Feeling more comfortable that someone else is there and much less exposed, you hum quietly under you breath and wait for the bus. Soon, more people come and join you and Karkat, and you survey he crowd.
You recognized most of the kids, considering that a lot of them were joining you and Karkat on the quest of sixth grade. There was Nepeta, her signature neko-beanie over blond hair, and the over-sized green trench coat sitting loosely on her shoulders. She was talking avidly to the boy next to her- Equius, you remembered. His long straight black hair was ruffled slightly by the wind as he attempted to get a word in with Nepeta. All the other kids seemed older, and they really didn't seem familiar to you except...
Oh crap, that was Vriska. You quickly snap your head back to the street and away from her. You and Vriska have had a... strange... relationship... Ever since in third grade she pushed you off the slide while trying to kill you. Luckily, you only broke your ankle. Sometimes the injury started to act up again, and you would limp slightly.
You sneak another glance at Vriska. Her long blond hair tumbled over her shoulders, and an eye patch covered her left eye. She injured sometime last year and only really needed to wear the eye patch for a week, but she liked the way it looked, so she kept it. Vriska glances at you, but you quickly look away.
The chattering of students died down as the sound of the bus rumbles in the distance. It rounds the corner and the yellow vehicle bumbles down the street and parks in front of the bus stop. The door opens and the kids pile on, the older students pushing the younger ones out of the way. You were last up the dirty steps. The bus driver greeted you with a smile and a "good morning." You grin back murmur a greeting back.
The bus was dead silent, besides a few conversations here and there. You take a seat close to the front and place your backpack on the floor. Staring out the window, you calmly wait for the bus to arrive at your new school.
You sit in homeroom, slouching. You look around the room, wondering who you'll see every morning for the rest of the year. Some of them you recognize, but plenty are new to you. They must be from the other schools, you think. Your homeroom teacher began calling attendance. (His name was scribbled across the board as "Mr. Hobbes". Judging by his room, he was a math teacher.) You zone out, still a little tired from getting up so early.
"Gamzee Makara," Mr. Hobbes called.
Your ears metaphorically perk. You know him.
Silence followed his name. "Gamzee Makara?" the teacher asks again. The boy still didn't answer, and the teacher scribbled something on his clipboard with an annoyed expression.
Gamzee... He was that weird kid. The one that liked to pretend he was a clown. You remember this one time he brought a unicycle to the playground and tried to show off. The boy got up on it and automatically fell off. His feet didn't even reach the pedals. All of the kids on the schoolyard laughed at him, but that didn't phase Gamzee. He just kept his smile and got up, brushing himself off. Then, he proceeded to pull a red clown nose out of his pocket and juggle three tennis balls perfectly. That amazed the students, and the responded with a chorus of "woah!"s and "can I try?"s.
You always admired the way Gamzee could turn something bad into something goo-
"Tavros Nitram!" Mr. Hobbes calls with an annoyed tone. He is looking straight at you.
"H-here!" you squeaked, snapping back into reality. The room erupted into laughter, causing you to sink lower into your seat. So you couldn't deal with laughter like Gamzee. So what?
The teacher sighed and continued down the list. He was nearing the end when the door slammed open. At it stood a boy with hair that could house a family of birds. His face was painted white, much like a clown's. He wore a black shirt with the text "hOnK" written on it in purple. This could be none other than-
"Gamzee Makara is here," the boy, obviously Gamzee, said with a deep and scratchy voice. He was tall and lanky, and his face looked faraway. "Sorry I'm late," he said with a nonchalant shrug.
Mr. Hobbes sighs and mutters something about 'irresponsible students' as he writes more on his clipboard. He finishes attendence and sits behind his desk, shuffling through some papers and looking stressed out. You figure that the students weren't the only ones not ready for the first day of school.
Gamzee was still at the door. He scanned the kids and his eyes land on you. His expressions lights up a bit and he saunters over, his painted-on polka-doted pants swishing quietly. He takes the empty seat next to you.
"Hey, I think I know you. You're that motherfucker Tav, right?" he asks.
"A-actually, it's Tavros," you mutter.
"Hm? Well, that's okay too. Tavbro. Yeah yeah... I dig it."
"Tavros..." you murmur again, but he already made up his mind.
"So, Tavbro, what class do you up and have first, motherfucker?" he says, pulling a carelessly crumpled schedule out of his pocket. He looks at you expectantly, and you sigh and pull your neatly folded paper out of your agenda. He takes it and compares it with his own. "Hey!" he exclaims with the same wide grin. "We have English, History, Gym, and Band class together!"
He takes band? you wonder. You shrug it off and say dismissively, "cool."
The bell rings for your first true class in middle school. English with Ms. Casey. And Gamzee.
This is shaping up to be a long year.
I feel like Tavros would play the flute. And Gamzee would play the saxophone. I don't know. My headcannons are pretty stupid.
Oh yeah... And uh... how dO YOU GAMZEE?