The room was boring until the greaser walked in. Well, sure, we all went dead silent, but a guy in leatherwalked in - what do you expect? This was Centennial College; it sure as hell wasn't a place for him. He gave us all a long glare and sank into the only empty seat in the room, which just happened to be dead center and right next to me. That was when the whispers broke out. I smirked and hopped up onto his desk, crossed-legged and leaning onto one arm as sexily as I knew how.

"Hon, we're all dyingto find out, so I'm going to be the only one with a pair in the room. How did a guy like you-" I accented my words by placing one conveniently manicured-yesterday finger on his chest, "-end up in place like this?" I gestured vaguely around the room.

He glowered up at me. "What, you think I'm not good enough to be here?" he spat, not even bothering to uncross his arms.

I gave him a long look. "No, actually, just the opposite." I caught the look of surprise that flitted across his face before he had time to return to his glare. I smirked some more. "You clearly haven't come from a rich-kid home. That means you got here on skill." I hopped off his desk again, not really sure why I was there in the first place. "Now all you gotta do is prove it."

"You come from a rich-kid home. You ain't here on skill, then?"

I smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not. I can't tell for sure. Count yourself lucky - at least you know."

"Watch you mouth, bitch," he retorted, and I drew back, wondering what I'd said. Geez, boys living in the slum were so touchy.

Immediately, Drew leapt up and had the guy by the collar. "That's my girlfriend, greaser, so you better shut your trap before I make you."

The boy looked at Drew and laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. I would've too, of course, the sight was just too unbelievable; a greaser being choked by a Soc in a checkered sweater the colour of a toddler's room, wearing glasses five sizes too big for his eyes. Luckily, I wasn't dating the boy for his looks - I was dating him for my parents. They didn't like the boys I brought home, so they picked one for me. Oh, and wouldn't you know it, Drew was going to Centennial College! Wouldn't you like to go to Centennial College, Florensa? Oh, it'll just be swell, Mom and Dad! Next thing you know, here I am. Well, here we are. Drew and I. Yay.

"Get your hands of me, bud, or you'll be very sorry you ever said a word," the boy replied, smiling a bit too friendly-like for the situation. He then frowned and tensed when Drew shifted his grip on his jacket.

I decided to intervene. I placed my hand on top of Drew's and gently, like the loving girlfriend I was, tried to pull his hand off. "Leave it, Drew, he's doing no harm."

Drew pulled back and tried to look like he was only holding back for me, but I could see the relief in his eyes. So did the greaser, I'm sure of it. He just was nice enough to shrug and slump down into his seat.

Our teacher walked in at possibly the most convenient moment a teacher could ever walk in. "Seats, notebooks, attention," the teach called out, taking his place at the front of the room. I snorted but slid back into my desk and pulled out a notebook.

"Literary... History," the teacher said as he wrote it on the chalkboard. "Can anyone tell me what it is?"

"Sir," Drew called, his hand everso slightly raised. "What do we call you?"

The teacher, probably not wanting to get caught forgetting to tell the class his name, replied, "Sir will do fine."

"Alright," Drew continued, "I-I have the answer to your question... sir."

"Go on then," Sir answered, and that was when I tuned out. Drew was either going to make a total fool out of himself or sound über-smart, neither of which I really wanted to listen to. I looked over at the greaser. He seemed to be my type; hot, different and totally out of my league. Challenge accepted.

And I wonder why my parents picked a boyfriend for me. Sure, my choices in the past weren't necessarily amazing, but they were at least better than grease. Well, one of them turned out to be a wanted criminal. But other than that, they were all better than grease.

I mentally shook my head. What was I saying? Since when had I ever been concerned about status? All I wanted was to get out of my small town. As soon as I graduated, I was going to travel the world. Be exciting. Have adventures.

Status didn't apply to me.

Although, if I did want to ever graduate, I would need to pay attention in class. I almost drew myself back into reality, but then I decided:

Learning can wait. Daydreams are forever.