1

"Lizzie, can you believe the homework Ms. Simmons gave us? There's no way we're finishing pages 30 through 42 by tomorrow."

Liz stabler walked through the halls of her highschool, with her friend Margaret.

"Relax Mar, that's what 'skimming' is for." She pointed out with a small smile. As she said this, a tall figure walked into her at a fast pace, knocking them both to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" The boy exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and offering his hand, pulling her up of the ground. He gave her a brief apologetic smile before crouching back down again to pick up all of their books.

He handed her hers, and nervously brushed his dark brown hair out of the way of his glasses.

"Do you know where Mr. Brite's class is? I'm new here."

"Oh, of course I know where that is. I'm going there next! Come on, follow me." Liz waved her hand in the right direction in a friendly manner and began walking quickly. Eventually she slowed down to allow the boy to catch up. "Thanks for picking up my books."

"No problem," he said, "it was my fault anyway."

"Here." Said Liz, after only a few more seconds, "room 105. We still have a minute 'til the bell rings. What's your name, anyway? Where are you from?"

"Oh. Haha, My names Brandon. I'm not foreign or anything, I'm from Maryland, but my dad's job is taking him out of the country for a while. I'm staying with my uncle at least until the school year finishes out."

"Cool, you probably wouldn't like foreign schools anyway. Bad enough starting highschool, right?"

"Yeah." He agreed, still a bit nervously.

"All of us freshman are new here. School started a week and a half ago. Lighten up." She teased.

"Yeah, okay." Said Brandon brightly, just as the bell rang. They both wandered into the room, and Brandon took the empty seat behind Liz, who put her I-pod in her ears right after her name was called and blasted it, to drown out the first half of the five minute roll call. Ashley, the girl next to her, usually nudged her when the "S"s came up anyway.

"Jonathan Miles?"

"Here."

"Rachel Minden?"

"Present!"

"Zachary Mullen?"

"Yo."

"Brandon-Lee Munch?"

The hand of a brown haired, bespeckled young boy nervously wavered up into the air.