I'm not the most popular kid in school. While the other guys could dunk basketballs and run six miles without even breathing hard, I wore all black, right down to my laces, and that must have spooked my peers because not even the ones deemed as emos would hang around me. I heard all the jokes, guys, okay? "Where's the funeral?" Seriously? That's real cute. I always answer the same, which probably scares the pants off them: after looking around for a moment, I'd stop and say I haven't decided yet. Yeah, that made them run.

I get it, probably not the best response if I want friends, but the truth is, I never had any real friends. I was always bullied in school and yelled at by my stepdad while my mum hid in her room with The Bottle.

I walked into last hour late, as always. Whispers went around, stuff like he was with his boyfriend or I hear he smokes in the last stall in the boys' bathroom or even I bet he got blood all over the bathroom walls now and the girls would giggle into the perfectly manicured hands. I ignored them the best that I could.

Let's get one thing straight, okay? I'm not interested in guys. I never have been. Why does everyone think that? I. Am not. Attracted. To guys. Do we have that covered? Okay, okay.

I sat down in my seat and I rubbed my black-dyed hair back as I let out a sigh. At least I did my homework. I pulled it out and smoothed it though it wasn't wrinkled.

No surprise, I got an A+ on my homework. Whoo. I put it back into my binder and I leaned back while the teacher lectured us on long division with variables.

It wasn't rocket science.

The teacher dismissed us and I gathered my books together, slowly walking out as the last one.

"Good job today, Jackson. I'm proud of you," the teacher called out as I left.

I smiled back at him. Wow. Praise from an adult. I gave him a nod and he smiled back at me. I started to walk back to my locker to grab my bookbag, which was also black, when I was shoved from behind.

I sprawled out onto the floor, dropping everything, stuff I didn't know I was carrying, like sketches of shadowy figures (I wasn't a bad artist) and poems that really made me feel good about being my awkward self (turns out I'm not too bad with words either). My cell clattered out onto the floor as well and I sighed with relief. The screen hadn't shattered. I swear angels started singing.

"Hey, freak," someone sneered behind me as I pulled myself to my knees. I didn't have to turn around. I knew who he was.

"Hey, Dex. Nice to see you again. I'm assuming you gave me that shove? Strong and rough, as always. Good to see you're still working out." I swept all my stuff together and I stood, hugging my books to my chest.

"Saw you making goo-goo eyes at the teacher again."

"Goo-goo eyes?" I looked around. "Did I go to the wrong school again? I meant to go to high school, not kindergarden, darn it!"

I saw their eyes darken and I smiled a bit, turning to walk away. I heard them give chase, but I also heard the math teacher growl a warning. I reminded myself to thank him later.

I stepped out into the sunlight and I like to think my skin glitters since it's so pale, but it doesn't (hush, Twilight fans). I saw something you don't see every day.

A nice, spankin' right-off-the-lot new Camaro with those black racing stripes that make it look like you could fry eggs on the hood. It was def a chick magnet. I envied whoever owned it. While I pictured myself behind the wheel, I must have missed its buddy, the beast-of-a-off-roader, but I didn't deny it my attention for long. It wasn't as good as the Camaro, but it was nice. Army green, too.

Must be some kind of car-club, I concluded as I walked by them. I cast them one last longing look before I moved to step on my bus.

See, I belong to my own club. It's not as nice as the Car-Club, but it's pretty sweet. It's called the If-You-Keep-Your-Head-Down-You-Won't-Get-Gum-In-Your-Hair-While-You-Ride-This-Bus club.

We're still working on the name.

So far, in my little club, we have me, myself, and I. And all the other losers that don't have a car yet, but they aren't official members.

I watched a semi of all things to pull into the parking lot as well. I noted the presence of an exotic sports car, cherry red with a nice silver design. Whoever owned these cars had awesome parents.

Or deep wallets.

The bus pulled out of the lot and I watched the cars shrink into the sizes of the Hot Wheels I have at home, then they were behind the hill, but not out of mind.

I had a feeling that I would see them again and I felt a little bit excited about that, as well as a little nervous. Then those feelings were squashed like Play-Doh under my baby sister's hands.

I reminded myself of my status in school and I gave soft sigh.

Who would want to willingly see me again?

Another little idea I have :3 I know, this sounds a lot like Amber's story, but I have different plans for Jackson, I promise.

Well, this is a start. I'm still thinking on this. Going to add a lot of other references, like the Twilight one for you crazy fangirls (No, Edward will not make an appearance...yet) ;)

Once more, and I know I should do this, but I obviously do not own the Transformers, or any of the films/books/shows that I make references to, mm'kay?

Prime627 out (but not gone)