Hello!
so this is my first ever fanfic! i was kinda nervous about putting this up and im not sure if i should upload the rest...
Please review and tell me what you think! :)

thegirlnextdoor101

The autumn air blew the trees as they moved the outstretched arms of the trees, causing them to strike violently against the windows of the second level of the school bus. Ziva David tugged self consciencely at the folds of her hideous new uniform, attempting to pull the grey skirt into something that resembled proper. With no success. Why did English high schools, or how they put it "secondary schools" always come hand in hand with hideous uniforms and bad weather. She felt stripped of her individuality, her dignity… and her various weapons that had been taken off her by her housekeeper. Damn Becky's sharp eyes. She could never get anything past her, not when she was a child in Israel, not now she was in her late teens. Life was unfair.

Ziva felt a prescence behind her, then heard a clearing of the throat. Ziva ran through her options in her head. To ignore or not to ignore? She sighed and chose the first option.

"Can I help you?" she said in slightly accented English. Before her stood a girl who clearly did not have the kind of parents she had, ones that monitered her appearance before she left the house every single morning. Her regulation school skirt was a few inches shorter that normal, her green eyes lined heavily with black eyeliner and a sling bag with "MISFITS" printed on the side of it. So maybe the uniform rules at this school were not as strict as they seemed. Or this girl was the exception to the rules.

"That's, ummm… well…" the gothic girl spluttered. Nervous would be an understatement to her sate of mind. She looked gittery and moving about, like an addict who had recently stopped some kind of drug. Or someone who had consumed far to much caffine.

Ziva raised her eyesbrows, which seemed like the wrong thing to do. The gothic girl tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.

"That's our seat," she said, voice steadier than it had been before.

Ziva did not see what the issue was. It was a seat. That was all. It would be so easy for either of them to go find another one. But Ziva was stubborn. Why should she move when she go there first?

"What is wrong with the rest of the bus?"

"That is our seat. And you better move your big butt somewhere else. Not that your butt is big. Not that I am looking. But even so…" Ziva cut her off.

"Look, what was your name?"

"Abby Scuito"

"Look, Abby," Ziva put stress on her name "There are 145 other seats in this bus which you could choose from. Please go away and find somewhere else before this gets messy."

Abby narrowed her eyes at Ziva for a moment. She glanced at the bags currently sat on her chair. Z David.

"This isn't over, David" she said, of course pronouncing it wrong.

"It's Dah-veed" Ziva replied trying to remain civil. But it was more difficult that it first appeared. Abby ignored her and went to the back of the bus, sticking in a pair of headphones and loosing herself in her music.

The bus pulled up outside the schools and Ziva made her way down the stairs and out into the cool autumn air. All around her people in identical uniforms moved in different directions, as she stood still, trying, and failing, to get her barings. All around her she could see expensive watches, branded jackets and then that stupid school emblum emblazoned on blazers and jackets. She could practically see the wealth seeping out of these pupils, who had probably more money than sense. Why her father had felt the need to drop her into such an establishment was beyond her idea.

She walked in the general direction that she saw all the other girls walking in. They reached the T junction and she saw the crowd part like the red sea, the boys going to the left and the girls going to with right. There was another thing about stupid English "secondery schools". They were mostly split girls and boys. Not that Ziva was the kind of girl who worried about that kind of thing. But she would miss the opposite sex. Back in Isreal she had found that she had more in common with the boys, and growing up with a dad and two brothers meant that she was more comfortable in their prescense. But it seems she was going to have to adapt to this new, environment.

"Every challenge is just another way of bettering yourself". One of her dad's many words of wisdom given to her during her training. In the days where most children were learning "look both ways when you cross the road" and "don't go off with strangers", she was learning "what hurts you makes you stronger" and "think on your feet, even when you are sleeping". And the one that she felt most suited the situation she was in "adapt or die."

The school was an old building with hedges cut into oddly regular shapes and ivy crawling up the stone walls. The stained orange brick looked like it had seen its fair share of abuse but it still stood strong. Ziva made her way into the arch of the front gate where she was greeted by reception.

"Ziva David?" the receptionist said, surprisingly not butchering her last name. When Ziva nodded she continued.

"Your father called the school. I'll show you to you form class," she said as she moved from her desk and out of the small room.

Ziva tried to memorise the twists and turns that they took to get to the form. That combined with the constant talking from the receptionist about the code, registration, timetables and bells was enough to almost give Ziva a head ache.

Eventually they reached a classroom where everyone had sat down. At the door opening of the door the class had fallen silent as they took in the new girl. Ziva could almost hear the cogs turning inside each of their heads, the judgements being made, the quick assesing of her lack of makeup and way of walking. She could see herself being dismissed by some of the class, but some of the class waiting before passing judgement.

"Mr Kort, your new student," she secetary introduced. She smiled at Ziva before abandonning her in the classroom with Mr Kort.

"Ziva David?" he asked, his English accent much more prominent than what she had heard so far. She nodded and he motioned at her to take a seat. When she had reached her seat he began to speak.

"Girls, this is a new term but let's not forget the school rules, shall we?" the rhetorical question was met with a roll of the eyes from the majority of the class. He continued regardless.

"Make-up is not allowed. Bracelets and bangles will be taken off you. No nail-polish. Hair accessories must be red, black or blue." Ziva's eyebrows were almost past her hairline. And she thought she wass coming to a school, not an institution. But this was, as her father had put it, the finest school in the country. As well as one of the most expensive.

"Oh and will one of you please look after Miss David?" he added, more of an afterthought. Ziva wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. She could look after herself, thank-you. She was just about to voice her thoughts when she heard someone else speak.

"I will sir."

Ziva turned round to see an attractive looking brunette leaning back in her chair. She also saw that her new friend Abby was sitting with her. She smirked as Abby leaned over and punched the girl lightly in the arm. Well if her prescence was going to annoy Ms Scuito so much then she was going to take the opportunity. She was not normally one to be so catty but Abby seemed to deserve it.

She picked up her belongings and moved to one of the desks near the brunette who had vonlunteered to babysit her.

"Sarah McGee. Welcome to the Grammar," she said and Ziva offered her a smile. Ziva turned to Abby, attempting to be civil.

"Abby"

"David," she replied, pronouncing it wrong. Again.

"It's Dah-veed" Ziva replied for the secong time that day, "but you can call me Ziva."

Abby shot her a glance and then got up. She went up to Mr Kort who had already returned to doing his own thing and asked if she could go to the toilet. With a dismissive nod she was out the room.

Sarah turned to her.

"So you two have met?"

"Yes. She seems to be very protective over her seat on the bus."

Sarah gave her a knowing look.

"The one right at the front at the top of the bus?" Ziva looked up surprised. So this was common knowledge around here? Was there anything else that she would need to know before she managed to annoy the entire school?

Sarah saw her blank look and decided to put the new girl out of her misery.

"She has sat there every day since year 7 with Kate. But last month Kate moved to America. And I know it seems stupid, but it meant something to her."

Somehow Ziva understood. Some things were difficult to let go off. Some things were difficult to forget and move on with. But everntually she would. Eventually.

The bell rang and the entire class began to move, swinging blazers on and lockers opening and closing. Ziva was on guard immidiately at the sudden movement. She turned to Sarah who gave her a strange look and then explained.

"Assembly."

Sarah did not know what to make of the new girl. She was definatley jumpy, but was that just who she was, or was it something to do with her background? The new girl raised more questions that did answers…

She was caught up by the steady flow of girls chattering loudly, jostling eachother and laughing loudly. The first day of term buzz could practically be sensed from miles away. Ziva was swept up by the different years pulling in different directions but all with the same objective. The assembly hall.

As Ziva entered the building a hushed silence fell as prefects in ridiculous long blue gowns shushed people and teachers gave the pupils disapproving looks.

The lines of students quickly and efficently filled up the assemebly hall with military precision. The only time she had seem such order was in her brief stint with the Israeli army. But at a school? Was this a school or some sort of institution?

A women took to the podium and you could see the girls visibly stand up straighter at her presence. So this was the head mistress. The one that few mentioned, but they all feared. The one that had been the reason why Ziva was here. The one who Eli had called in the favours and pulled a few legs (legs? Was is legs?) to accept Ziva's late application. There she was. Ms Jennifer Sheppard.

"Good morning ladies. Could we please start with hymn number 31."

There was a melodramatic clearing of throats and shuffling of pages as the girls found the correct page in hymn books that had been battered and bruised. The organ that Ziva hadn't noticed until then struck up the familier introduction.

Oh how terribly English of them Ziva thought as the whole of the assembly hall to a preparetory breath.

"And did those feet in ancient time.

Walk upon England's mountains green:

Well they may have, but given the weather in this country I can understand why he left… Ziva thought to herself

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England's pleasant pastures seen!

Why would anyone actually want to visit England? Ziva added her thoughts into the hymn.

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

This song does not even make sense. Jeruselum was built in Israel, not England, Ziva scoulded the writers of the hymn.

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;

Bring me my Arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England's green & pleasant Land

Well you may be waiting here a hell of a long time… Ziva thought to herself

When the hymn finished there was a great shuffle as people pushed and shoved to get a reasonable amount of flospace of the floor. For one of the most prestigious schools in the country their assembly hall was pretty small. The prefects grinned smugly as they took their seats behind the teachers who sat in rows on the side of the stage.

"Welcome back girls, whether you are returning to us or joining us for the first time. May I remind you that this may be a new year and new start but the school rules must be observed. Ignorance is never an excuse. If you are unfamilier with the rules or wish to refresh your memory there is a list on the notice board outside the staff room."

Ms Sheppard continued for a good 10 minutes, and Ziva turned to Sarah who feigned sleep. Ziva smiled back and then turned her attention back to the stage. And the day went on.

Ziva walked into the music school. It was the newest building in she had seem in relation to the school, all white washed walls and huge glass panels. As she walked in she could hear classical music floating through the walls and opera style singing vibrating the glass on the walls. There were a row of sign up sheets along the wall in the foyer that grabbed her attention. Ziva had always been musically talented, and had always leant on music from a young age. Her father had but her into piano lessons to teach her discipline and that practise meant everything. However for Ziva it had opened up so many doors that she would not have been aware of, let alone been able to walk through. Most girls would hide alcohol, boys and secret tatoos. Ziva hid her love for music. She picked up the guitar quickly and when her brother had gone through his rebellious stage and bought a drum kit she fell in love. Drumming required precision, accuracy, rhythm and skill. It was a great way to manage anger and had no boundaries. She was definatly a drummer.

She had quickly skipped over the sign up sheets for all the classical ensembles and went for the last sheet on the wall. One of the posters caught Ziva's eye. The colours were brighter and less shaped and perfected than the other. That and the title of the group caught her attention. She as about to pull a pencil from her blazer (the blazers may be annoying, but they were very useful for the additional pocket space…) when she felt someone come up behind her and she stiffened slightly. Then a hard came into her line of sight as it lent against the wall next to her face. She turned around to see the owner of the hand. He was a tall athletic looking guy with brown hair lightly messed up. His broad smile was easy-going if not slightly suggestive, and his eyes danced with life and laughter.

"So let me guess. A pretty little thing like you. Singer?"

"Drummer actually," Ziva retaliated and she stepped forward, not wanting to look intimidated by the boy's obvious lack of respect for his life. If he did he would no not to make such comments around a certain Ziva David.

The boy did not put out be it, and his grin grew more, a feet which Ziva would not have thought possible.

"Well Miss…" he leaned over to see what she had written on the sign up sheet. Ziva tilted her head but overwise did not move as he leaned further into her personal space. She could feel the heat radiating off his face and his breath fanned her stretched neck giving her the strangest feeling. But she mentally shook it off. He was just some rich kid who wanted to party with the new girl. Idiot.

"…Ziva," he continued, "if you are serious about being in a band, there are better ways to go about it. MS45. Lunch time. Be there."

Ziva did not take well to being ordered around. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head upwards, a blatant show of defience.

"And why would I do that, mister…" she trailed off as she remembered not getting his name.

"Very special Antony DiNozzo, at your service," he said with a grin that probably did not belong in reality. More like those adverts that sold rubbish to people who actually believed them.

"…Antony," she finished. Very special indeed she thought to himself. She would not deny that he was attractive. The problem was that he knew it.

"Well, Ziva," he stressed her name just as she had stressed his, "we are where the real music happens. Not all that classical stuff written by dead people."

Ziva had to smile at his reasoning behind his scorn for classical music. Despite his cocky attitude he did genuinely seem to like the music. Or then again he just might like the attention that came with being in a band.

"Maybe I will turn up. Maybe I will not." And with that she walked off, leaving a laughing Antony DiNozzo in her wake…

I know Abby seems like a bit of a bitch... but it will change! promise! :)

PLEASE REVIEW! :)