Hello!

Me again. Yeah, I suck at keeping at things, but hey! I have some one reading this as I write it, it's become somewhat of a summer project, and I know how I want it to end! So seeing as I've never actually had a clear ending in the past maybe this will turn out good and be finished!

Or maybe not... Whelp, lets hope it does get finished...

At any rate, I have three chapters written.

If anyone of you people reading actually lives in Boston or the Boston area give me a shout. =) I would love to hear about actual realistic aspects of it to include.

You know why I hate school?

Because it's school, and school means homework, and homework means little to no time to hang with friends.

Just so you know, it only gets worse when you're enrolled in the New Boston Prep School.

So, you could probably guess where I'm enrolled.

You guessed it.

My own fault, right?

Well I suppose so. I was the one who wanted to get all the extra credentials that came with this place.

You see, all the smart, or seemingly smart, kids that had a ounce of luck got the chance to go there. Old fashioned with tons of windows in the hallways but little to none in the classrooms. Large enough to fit in about five hundred of Boston's smartest students, though eventually housing only four hundred of the brightest by the end of senior year. The school that had the best theatre, band, orchestra, sports, and everything in between in the whole state.

It's a wonder I was accepted.

Not that I'm not smart. I'm plenty smart. You know. When I apply myself.

Right now though? Yeah, I'm the kid yawning as the syllabuses are being passed out; wondering how could the second hand tick any slower on that clock in the front of the classroom.

Hey, it's the first day of school; you tell me you get the proper amount of sleep before the first day of school.

My face scrunched up in the perfect form of a un-cute yawn as the next set of students filed in. Not surprising. The way the office passed out schedules was just plain stupid sometimes. One huge freaking mob in front of a few tables that had the letters of a person's last name printed on them. Of course, it would be my luck that in the moment that my face was contorted in the least possible attractive pose, the hottest guys would walk into my classroom.

Freaking karma. I knew I should've gotten Kevin his schedule.

Finishing the yawn as gracefully as possible, because it was so possible to finish it off gracefully, I read the names on the front board, wondering absently if any of my friends were in my class.

Nope, not this time around.

The guy from before though, yeah, he was sitting next to me. Even in my dark corner of solitude, my name, not the official, I couldn't be given any privacy. What's more, he attracted every girls glance in the classroom. Couldn't I have been left in peace?

I turned my head slightly to get a better look at him. Tall, fairly lean but not without muscle and so obviously asian that it made those americanised asians look fake. He sat straight, his glasses reflecting the light from the seventies style lights. Actually, they were pretty standard dim lights for any kind of building. Just so happened it was built in the seventies. Seventies? I did a quick calculation in my head. Yeah, seventies.

... Why am I even thinking about this crap you may ask?

Because I'm distracting myself from the large amount of glares being sent my way from the remaining female population of my class.

Slipping out my cellphone I texted my friend. I needed a distraction.

-Typically Atypical-

Lunch. Can't say I'd been missing these preservative loaded chunks of fake meat, rotten veggies, and pizza overloaded with grease, but hell it was satisfying.

I wandered around the lunchroom, spotted some friends, and promptly plunked myself down in their midst.

"Hey Iy," my friend Amber said. Amber, Murphy and I were the trio of sorts, though not exclusively. Amber and I grew up together, yada, yada, and Murphy got thrown in there soon after, around kindergarten I think. So in retrospect all of us grew up together.

There used to be a few others, but we grew apart. Mostly its just the five of us left. Well, Holly moved, but she's close enough to us to still count, we've been keeping in contact.

"How can you eat that stuff?" Murphy asked looking at the food with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

I shrugged. For a elite private school we still had crappy public-american school food. Go figure.

"It's cool that we've got some classes together this year," Amber commented, "Way better than last."

"Well it was to be expected," Murphy said in her know it all attitude, but that is her default attitude. "We all took the same classes, unlike last year where we still had time to experiment with the electives."

"Good old junior year," I commented dryly as the volume of the commons esculated to a degree. "What's up with the noise?"

"New guys, five of 'em," came the report in from our one and only male friend Zach as he sat beside Amber, having returned from retrieving his lunch. "The gingers were in my history class. They're really annoying."

"Good to know," I commented bored, "I had one in first period, I take it they're all in the same grade?"

Murphy nodded, "Here, yeah. In Japan where they're from? Half are in their equivalent of senior year and half are in junior. They've got two going to college across town." We all gave her a look. "What? The counsellors were talking about it second period. Even the teachers are smitten."

I made as if to gag. "Is looks all anyone looks at anymore?" I wondered aloud not really expecting a answer.

Of course I got one. From the very people I was currently dissing. Typical.

Aaannnndddd I had to be one from the one person in their group that's actually in one of my classes.

Fuck.

"Good looks do lead to acquiring certain... privileges."

"Advantages, more like," I responded under my breath as I turned around in my seat to continue eating my fake-food. Glasses boy, Kouya, either didn't hear me or choose to ignore the comment, most likely the latter of the two judging by the ever so brief flashing of his glasses.

"Perhaps," he allowed as his gaze swept over me and my friends. He finally gave us a nod and left.

"Prick," Murphy commented and I grinned.

"Such a prick," I agreed.

-Typically Atypical-

Last period. Forty-five more minutes of tort- I mean schooling, to go.

I looked around at the more or less familiar faces of my classmates. With only four hundred (as compared to my cousins class of eight hundred) we were a relatively small school. With the total of twenty or so full classes, and the fact that even though we had so many classes almost all of us ended up taking the same classes as three-fourths of the other occupants of the school, you got to know people.

Why all the numbers? you may ask.

Whelp, we're at the New Boston Prep School, need I remind you.

So we're trained from Day One Freshman Year to know exactly how to operate in a harsh business setting. Rivalries, were just as they were in the real world, along with friendships. If you want to have something real, find people who know you. The real you.

Everyone else? Fair game.

So, in the spirit of friendly competition, let the games begin.

The first day of school is almost at the end. The second day is when all the friendly 'Hello''s turn to, 'What grade did you get?' and 'What does Mrs/Mr so-and-so like?'

I did another sketch on my sheet of college ruled paper, right next to the graffitied out version of my name. Iris.

I paused, listened to the teacher name out the supplies that we would need for the year along with the year's agenda, and continued.

I wonder... How are the newbies going to fare?

-Typically Atypical-