I roll my eyes as I step into the congested, uncomfortable space that is the Fairmont Academy cafeteria. Being in the last lunch cycle is terrible enough on a normal day; there's hardly any food left, and it's like pulling teeth to get any of the chefs to lift another finger after dealing with the previous three cycles. Today, however is even worse; after a small fire in the kitchen, blown completely out of proportion, the third cycle has to eat with us and the cafeteria is at double it's capacity. The line is stretching the length of the entire right wall, and for a buffet it's moving at a snail's pace.

After sitting at my usual table-alone-for a few minutes I decide to take matters into my own hands. After skipping breakfast I was absolutely starving; and I'd be damned if there was nothing left when I reached the food. It was moments like these when I was happy not to have any friends because I didn't give a shit about anyone in the line, or what they had to say about me cutting them.

I make a beeline for the corner beside the buffet where the trays are held. I notice a few people glare at me on the way but I don't pay them any attention. A large portion of the students are all crowded around the trays and I begin to push my way through.

"Excuse me….coming through…." I mumble as I push people aside. The guys glare at me and move reluctantly but I'm pretty sure I hear a few audible sighs and giggles coming from the girls that I gently squeeze between. I roll my mental eyes. As if I would ever consider dating any of the preppy bitches that attend this school.

I reach to serve myself some mashed potatoes when I feel a large hand grab my forearm. "What do you think you're doing, Grey?"

I snatch my arm back and slowly turn to face Paul Rouson, one of star basketball players. If there was anyone in the line to put me in my place about cutting it would definitely be him; cocky, arrogant, bastard that he was.

I put on the fakest, friendliest smile that I can manage. "Paul! How about that game last night?"

He ignores my sarcasm. "So you think because you've won a couple of fights that you can do whatever you want around here? Or are you just too self centered to notice all the people that you just jumped in line?"

I look up and down the line dramatically, and by now everyone is staring at us. " Well no one else seemed to mind Paul so why should you?"

"Grey, everyone else in this school may be afraid to tell you about yourself, but I'm certainly not. Walking around with your nose in the air like you're better than everyone else? In case you hadn't noticed we all have money," he snorts, "and at least our parents actually wanted us. Now get to the back of the fucking-"

It's at that moment that I decide to politely interrupt his monologue by bringing my lunch tray to the side of his head with a considerable amount of force. He staggers back as half the cafeteria rushes up to watch.

"You don't know shit about me," I say calmly as he wipes the blood that's trickling from his lip. I drop the lunch tray as he lunges at me and I manage to land a punch to his jaw before we're both rolling around on the floor. Though Paul is slightly taller than me we're pretty much the same size, and I have him pinned on the floor beneath me in seconds.

The sound of his nose cracking is extremely pleasant to me as my second punch lands it's mark, followed by the third and forth to the same general area. Then suddenly Paul seems to remember he's in the middle of a fight, grabs two fists full of my shirt, and roughly throws me off of him. We both scramble to our feet and before I can even register what to do next he knees me in the stomach with as much force and he can and I double over, breathless. Predictably he goes in for an uppercut and I'm still too incapacitated to block it. My teeth knock together audibly as I fall back against the cart of trays. He grabs my shirt again and punches me in the mouth. I instantly taste a stream a blood as his next one connects with my nose. Suddenly a strong, muscular arm wraps around his middle from behind and I know that security has finally arrived. Two men pull him away from me and I admit that I'm a little relieved; the guy was about to go to town on my face.

I rise from the ground unsteadily and use my white shirt to wipe the blood from the edges of my mouth, and although I feel warm liquid trickle down my upper lip I don't even attempt to touch my nose. The pain is excruciating and I know that it's broken again. This will make time number 3 and I smile slightly thinking about how pissed Dr. Anderson is going to be to see me in his office again.

I don't react when another security guard roughly grabs my arm and begins to pull me across the cafeteria.

"What the hell are we gonna do with you Grey?" he asks with a chuckle as we make our way to the office.

I don't respond to his question. I'd been asking myself the same thing everyday for fifteen years and still hadn't come up with an answer.