Revised : 4/12/15

This day seems to be just as dull and uneventful as any other.

Bundling first years shuffling back and forth through the halls; lost no doubt. Boys leaning against the lockers, as if ready to dissolve onto the floors, while the girls primped. Their overly powdered faces looking into the locker mirror they all seemed to own. The halls contained accumutations of various groups of teenagers, each one at least three feet away from the next. Huddled around each other, trading summer experiences and gossip. I never understood the need to blabber about one's life as many seem to enjoy. They try so hard to put themselves on a pedestal, not caring about who they tear down in the process. Why is it always about 'one upping' the other? I find much more peace ignoring my peers and focusing on the reason we come here five days out of the week. To learn and prepare for the future.

Ja'far kept a straight face as he opened his assigned locker (silently proud he opened it on his first attempt) and placed his shoulder bag onto the hook and dropped his notebooks to the bottom. Picking up his flip phone to check the time; 7:58am, he had a minute before the first bell. Taking a quick look down at his class schedule, he saw that his first class was in room 231, US2 History with Mr. Stanley. The paper did not say which floor but he could only assume that with a number in the 200s, it would be on the second floor.

A few eyes landed on him as he pulled open the stair doors, but they quickly lost interest. Ja'far knew he was an eyesore, one that people scrutinized in fervor, ignorantly assuming it was his choice to have this appearance. As if he would bleach his body or cut himself just to gain attention, it was idiotic. Not only the students, but the teachers were imprudent as well. The only amenity he could enjoy under the judgemental gazes was to count the number of steps it took to walk from one class to the next. And even that soured after a few weeks.

Ja'far let out a small huff before grabbing his bag and walking off to class. "As long as they don't bother me, I can tolerate them," he said to himself, eyeing the door labeled '231'.

The room was half full, most of its occupants hanging over the backs of their chairs to chat with neighbors. A few more studious dwellers pulling out a notebook and pencil. Ja'far kept his mouth in a fine line as he walked to the back of the room. Choosing the desk in the far left corner, which was thankfully free of neighbors. Moving down the aisles, the males of the room graciously ignored him, but he could hear a few of the girls whispering about his attire. Ja'far could barely resist a snort at the shallowness.

Looking down at his plain clothes, Ja'far rolled his eyes. "Why does it matter what I wear if we are here to listen and write? It is not a private school, so casual wear is perfectly fine," he huffed in his head.

Ja'far wore a simple white t-shirt, collarless, with dark navy cargo pants and black sneakers. Lowkey and effective, just as he liked it. But what he did not know was that the girls were not looking at his shirt or pants, but analyzing the bandages that covered his arms, save for his hands. He knew that it was not common to wrap one's arms as he did, but kids get into accidents, and he played it off that way. The bandages he wore were light weight and breathed in a way that long sleeved shirts just did not pull off. However their true value was behind their ability to perfectly hide his most undisclosed of coverts. The only downside was that the sight of such mysterious bandages seemed to pull in every curious eye.

"Brriiiiiinnnnggg"

"Ok, students sit down, the bell has wrung," the scruffy teacher cleared his throat, loosening his tie with a tired face. The class slowly quieted down, taking their time to turn and face the front. Groans could be heard as the students had to face facts; summer was over and it was time to learn.

"So for today I will be introducing the cariculum for the year, informing you on the items you will need for this class, and of course filling out the emergency information cards," the teacher unenthusiasticly statemented. A chorus of moans and gripes following as if on a timer. Ja'far held back a laugh. "This is a simple day, I don't see why they are dreading it so much. We aren't even reading or taking notes," he chorted to himself.

"Alright, this year we will be reading about the-," the middle aged teacher continued with a smile once he began telling his class of their soon to be lessons. Ja'far blocked out the man's speech as he reached for his book. It was not too lengthy, but the plot seemed interesting, and as far as he had read the author had a good grasp on his thoughts. It was mostly a philosophical novel, with some of the best hypotheses about the mind and how it relates to one's body and soul. Much more interesting than the assigned books he had to suffer through over the summer. Although he did find an adventure book amusing once in a while, he had hoped the schooling system would pick novels with a bit more challenge. All of the assigned books were no thicker than his hand and were too quick to reach the climax. None of them played with his mind or made him question his part in the world, they were curt and lifeless. But he read them quickly and wrote the essay with as much feeling as he could give. Describing them as dull and uneventful. He was sure his teachers would agree.

"Apparently one of us has found something more important to do than paying attention. You, in the back, put the book away," the teacher said, an octave lower than normal to show he was serious. Ja'far blankly stared at the heads that turned to watch him. Quietly Ja'far put the book below his chair and looked forward once again. "Oh, well. I can always read during gym class and lunch anyway."

After a small nod the teacher cleared his throat, signaling to his student to face forward. The students, most probably out of fear of getting detention on their first day, turned back to face forward. Ja'far gave a silent thanks to the man, even though he forced him to put his book away, he was glad to have those eyes off him. If there was anything he hated more than people, it was groups of people watching him. Breathing a little in relief, he let his eyes scan the room. There were a slew of inspirational posters, large blue history books gathering dust on an old bookshelf and a string of flags hanging on the wall from countries all over the globe. Ja'far absentmindedly picked at his notebook.

From the corner of his vision he could see a pair of eyes still watching him. It made his back involentarily shiver, but he fought it off. With a small scowl he turned his face in the direction of the prying eyes, hoping to deter the curiosity. It was a boy a few seats to his right, and he was just…staring. Ja'far narrowed his eyes, gesturing to the boy to put his attention elseware. But the boy did not seem to grasp his body language and gave a smile in return. Ja'far blinked as the boy had the gall to raise his hand up to wave. It looked like he was going to speak, but was cut off when a red headed boy leaned over and whispered into his ear. The boy laughed once before facing forward.

He seemed to be a social creature. After leaving the classroom, Ja'far could see the boy talking animatedly with a few other students. His hair was dyed a deep purple and was held back by a low-hanging ponytail. His clothes, expensive no doubt, looked brand new. He was sporting knee length black shorts with silver trim and a black-on-white plaid shirt and a matching sweatshirt. His laugh was loud and bounced down the halls, practicly calling out to the other students 'hey, I am much happier than you! Come and join me in a laugh'. Or at least, that is what Ja'far felt, and it was annoying him greatly. "Does he honestly have to laugh at such a volume?!" Ja'far sneered, but kept it quiet. He did not want to create a scene so early in the year. Repositioning his things in silence, he let the disturbance brush off him as he hurried to his next class.

English class, now this was something he could relate to and possibly the only class he looked forward too. He slid into the farthest left seat once again, placing his things under the chair, and pulled out his book with ease. The teacher had not entered the room yet, so he had time to read a page or two. The sound of the laughing teen had died off somewhere in the hallway; a fact that Ja'far was quite happy about. Settling comfortably into the concrete-like plastic, Ja'far studied the room and its inhabitants. Only ten or tweleve students were present mulling about, there was two bookshelves with novels of all sizes, and behind the teacher's desk was a pull down screen with a projecter attatched.

Absentmidedly flipping to the next page, Ja'far kept his focus completely on the written words in his hand. With his mind stuck between the margins, he was caught off guard when a foot crashed into his left side feild of vision. His chair went flying back, carrying his body along with it onto the harsh floor. The fall caused his head to make a sickening thump on the thin carpet, while his book fluttered almost silently to the ground. Ja'far let out a grunt as the air involuntary left his chest.

"H-hey, Judal that was kinda going…too far," a feminine voice whispered. The only sound in the now deathly silent room. The boy to her right scoffed and stuck his chin in the air.

"I don't care. His face was just weirding me out. And who bleaches their hair anyway?" the boy complained, reaching down to the ground to pick up Ja'far's book. A spark of pure evil intent in his pitch black eyes.

The disoriented teen rubbed at his throbbing head, feeling a small cut near the back. Ja'far's eyes narrowed as he saw his attacker picking up his book with a snicker. He jumped to his feet in an instant, ripping the book from Judal's hands like a viper striking its prey. The room's silence was a defening ring in his ears. Ja'far did not give a second glance at the violent troublemaker while he patted down his shirt and pants of dirt. Making a mental note of his physical appearance, black hair, tan skin and dark clothes. Ja'far was normally against revenge and its pointlessness, but that did not mean he was merciful. He would remember this incident, that was certain. And without another word, Ja'far quietly leaf the room to wash the blood from his head.

Judal laughed at Ja'far's retreating form and gave the small girl to his left a forceful punch on the shoulder. The girl winced at the blow and frowned sadly before walking to take a seat.

"Next time he will choose another seat. Only normal people are allowed around me, no freaky-ass weirdos," the boy snickered, flopping into the seat Ja'far once occupied.

The hallways were empty after the last bell rang, except for the one small student calmly walking to the boy's bathroom. Silently hoping that he did not need stitches, Ja'far poked at his skull. The last thing he needed was a hospital visit.

"Late-late-late-late!" A voice grew from far down another hall.

Ja'far raised an eyebrow at the chant coming from around the corner, but pushed it aside. The sound of running feet came closer and closer ashe walked and Ja'far resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the tell tale signs of a tardy student. "Some idiot, you are not supposed to be run-," Ja'far started, but was cut off.

"Whaa!"

"Uf!" Ja'far closed his eyes tight as his head once again hit the cold and unforgiving floor. The heavy mass that had run into him now lying on his chest. His vision was stark white as his head swam in circles, small stars shooting in and out of his vision. The body on top of him jumped up in an instant and there was a distant voice yelling in his ear.

"Hey are you alright?!" The voice's volume growing into shouts after he had been lying on the cool tile for a minute or two.

"…s-stop yelling…teachers might…in trouble," Ja'far mumbled, pushing the blurry figure away from him and trying to get to his feet. An arm forced its way under his shoulders and slowly pulled him up.

"Shit, your bleeding," the blur silently noted.

Ja'far turned to the sharpening blur that ran into him with a frown. He saw golden eyes that shined with worry, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and tan skin. "Oh no it's that idiot from History class," Ja'far growled in speculation, yanking his arm free and starting his walk down the hall. Albeit a little slower than before, as the world still on its side so far as he could tell.

"Wait, the nurse's office is the other way. Come on, I'll take you," the dark haired teen insisted. "This gives me an excuse for being late! Ah, poor kid, I hope he doesn't have a concussion," he mused.

"That is because I am going…to the bathroom," Ja'far grumbled, wanting to get away from the other as soon as possible.

"What? You might have to go to the hospital! Do you know your head is bleeding all over the place?!" The concerned teenager grabbed his arm and dragged him down the opposite hallway. His face scrunched in a distraught exspression as he saw red seeping through the snow white hair of the smaller teen.

"Do you know what today is? What is your name? How many fingers am I holding?!" He waved his palm in front of the unfocused eyes and waited for a reaction. When he recieved no movement he quickening his steps, despite the resistance he was easily winning against the wounded's planted feet.

"It's the 28th, I remember my name just fine, and would you stop waving your hand in my face! It is making me dizzy," Ja'far grumbled, finally accepting being dragged down the halls. His captor was at least a foot taller than him, his arms were muscular yet lean, and he could pick him up with one hand, Ja'far griminced. "Not that I would let him. If my feet leave the ground I will bit his hands off," he growled.

"Fair enough," he sighed "I seriously apologize for running into you like that. I should've been looking where I was going. Are you okay?" The teen sounded distressed, putting a little more strength into holding the smaller boy up as they started down the stairs.

Ja'far stayed silent despite his waning patience, choosing to turn his head away from the other's question instead of ringing his neck which he so desired. This action only seemed to further the teen's worry and caused him stopped in his steps and set Ja'far down.

"I am really sorry. I can pay for the hospital bills if you would like. Can you walk?" The teen plucked through the stained white hair. Ja'far slapped the hand away without a second thought.

"I am fine. Go to your class, I am perfectly capable of walking on my own," Ja'far stepped away from the invading fingers and walked down the rest of the stairs.

"Are you-" the teen started, but was cut off.

"I'm fine," Ja'far quipped before exiting the stairs and walking quietly to the nearest bathroom.

Dunking his head into the sink, Ja'far silently watched as the white porcelain sink swirled with red as he washed out the blood. A few more dunks to make sure all the blood was gone, he stuck his head under the hand dryer and shook off the excess water. The cut was small and thankfully no stitches were needed. After drying off and fixing his hair, Ja'far left the bathroom and walked back to the English room. Not even thinking twice about the blood he left on the floor or the reminisce in the sink.

Knocking quietly on the door, Ja'far waited for a confirmation, and soon enough a yell was made to enter. All eyes clung to him as he opened the door, bowing his head low, he began his explaination for his reason for being late.

"I am sorry for rudely entering. I slipped on my way and had to go to the nurse," Ja'far stayed in his bow, waiting for a reply.

"That is fine, it is the first day after all. But please do not make a habit of this. There is a seat over there by Mr. Sinbad. Who, strangely, had a similar excuse as yours," the teacher gave an all knowing smile, letting his eyes peer over his thin glasses, nodding his head in the direction of the seat. Ja'far raised his head but kept his gaze on the floor as he walked to the seat, second row, and third coelom to the right. A displeased snort came from the back of the room. Ja'far didn't have to look to know it was the dark haired boy that kicked his desk over. Quickly settling in his seat, the pale teen tried to shake off the awkward atmosphere.

"This year we will be discussing college essays and SATs, the proper way to…" The teacher, a relatively young man, maybe around his early thirties, continued to explain the year's plan. English was the only subject that Ja'far found a common interest in, so he listened intently, a little disappointed to hear that most of their year would be spent on practicing for exams and writing essays to please future collages. Ja'far wanted to learn about the mechanisms in writing, read novels and discus their meanings, and really learn about English. But the faster he got through the exams, the more time the class would have to enjoy literature.

Ja'far felt a finger poking into his side, keeping his face straight, he suppressed the hiss on his tongue. He narrowed his eyes, keeping his head forward as he slapped the hand at his side, not hard enough in Ja'far's mind; seeing as he felt the appendage digging into his side right after he had slapped it away.

"Pppsst," came a whispered noise. Ja'far ignored the sound, not wanting to disturb the class any further. A frown on his face when he recognized the voice. Of all the classes in this school. Ja'far resisted the urge to rub at his temples and relieve some of the stress that had piled up there. What I would do for a cup of tea right now.

After ignoring the other's insisting for a few more minutes the period bell rang. Ja'far felt bitter sweet about the bell. On one hand he could get away from the annoying teen who seemed rather amused with poking at him, but on the other hand he would also have to leave English class. With a sigh the pale boy rose from his seat and hurried out the door.

"Hey wait! Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital or a doctor? Did you even see the nurse?" came a voice, the sound of running feet right behind him.

"I have told you multiple times already. I am fine. Now if you'll excuse me, we both have classes to go to, and I do not wish to be late to another," Ja'far mumbled, glancing at the taller teen for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

The next class was on the first floor, Spanish III, a relatively interesting language. It didn't appeal to Ja'far as much as English, but it did teach of sentence structures and grammar, so he could find some pleasure in learning it. He quickly walked to the back of the room, once again feeling déjà vu as the teacher began explaining the year's curriculum. Only this time she spoke completely in Spanish. Ja'far could understand some of it, but he wasn't an expert, so most of it went right over his head. Looking back it seemed many of his classmates appeared to be thinking the same.

"Los estudiantes, hoy vamos a discutir las tarjetas de información y…" The teacher started, telling the students that they would be discussing the information cards and what to fill out for emergency numbers.

"Pssssst!" Came a hushed noise.

God, if there was ever a better time to strike me down, it would be now.