Throughout the entire bus ride, the only thing that remained in my mind was the image of the figure and blue hue and the circle with the green numbers. Every couple of minutes until we finally got off the bus, I kept flipping over my palm to make sure it was really real and my mind wasn't just playing tricks on me. But every time I had my doubts and would flip over my hand, the numbers were still there inside the circle.

As we loaded off the bus, I kept getting glances and snickers from my fellow students. Apparently, they hadn't forgotten my little episode and I would probably have to deal with this for the rest of my high school career. But I'm not the type of person to just let people make fun of me without giving them he—uh, well water. Yeah, we'll go with that.

"Would you all just shut up?"

My angry voice usually tends to gain some attention.

I didn't know what to say to defend myself, so I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"There was a freaking wasp that was about to sting my face, okay? I'm not an idiot! No one tries to stop a bus with their hands, so just shut up! God!"

Everyone loaded off the bus with only a couple quite murmurs and I knew I had proven my point. I hopped off the bus and walked around a huge group of guys walking slowly with their pants just inches from the ground. How they could walk around like that, I do not know. After getting around the group, I passed a pink blob all hanging around in one corner. All of those girls where helping one another put on makeup and holding mirrors up for one another to look at their reflections. Only then did I realize: no other student was wearing the uniform we were "supposed" to be wearing. I looked around the halls, and it seemed that all of the younger students who must have been freshman were holding up the dress code. But no one other then the freshman was dressed correctly. I walked up to a group of people all dressed in the uniform looking around uneasily at all of the other students, probably wondering what happened to the whole clothes situation as well.

"Hey, um, I'm Cassidy, what's going on?"

They looked at me curiously and a boy with brown hair, brown eyes and a tan complexion was the first to speak up.

"We were wondering the same thing. My names Car—".

"Hey, Freshies!" came a loud, obnoxious voice from behind my back.

I turned around and breathed in a hard breath. There was a group of three guys standing together. The biggest one was in the middle and was flanked by two smaller but still quite large goons. The guy standing in the middle was rather chunky and had arms that were covered in outrageous tattoos. His hair was slimy and greasy like he hadn't taken a shower in weeks. His nose had a shiny, silver ring pierced through it and his clothes were ratty and worn out. The other two were dressed in the same manor, but not as, well, bold as the middle one.

I couldn't let them see how terrified we all were, so I had to say something.

"And you are Big and Ugly," pointing at the middle one, "Goon One and Goon Two?" I added pointing to the other two.

Goon One and Two snarled at me, but Big and Ugly wouldn't have any backtalk.

"Actually," he sneered while straitening his back so he didn't look like the hunchback of Notre Dam, and if possible, becoming more frightening, "I'm Smash and that's Crunch and Flatten."

I'm sorry, but who couldn't resist laughing at those names even if they were terrified.

"Oh," I said between fits of restrained giggles, "I suppose your parents gave you those names? Or did you just find them on the back of a Nut Cracker direction guide?"

The group behind me burst into laughter. My job was done when the trio gave us one last scowl and disappeared in-between the crowd of high school kids.

"Dude, that was seriously amazing!" laughed the brown haired guy that had spoken up from the group before.

"Yeah, nice job!" said a girl standing next to him. Her hair had blue and purple streaks in it and she spoke with a British accent.

"Thanks," I laughed.

But before we could further our conversation, a bell rang in the distance and I knew that it was the bell for homeroom. I didn't want to leave my new group of friends, but if I didn't hurry, then I wouldn't be making good friends with my new teacher. I said good-bye and headed towards my new class with a map in my hands.

Once I finally found my way to the room, after walking around the school twice, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The cold air pushed my hair off my shoulder and made my side bangs fly into my eyes. The door closed behind me and I walked over to a desk next to the window. There was a nice view of the street and cars were flying by on the road.

I set down my backpack on the desk and took my seat. After a few minutes had passed of kids filling into the room and my eyes staring at the cars on the other side of the window, the bell for class finally rang.

I heard loud footsteps on the laminate floor and looked up to the front of the classroom. My new teacher had large heeled boots which was the reason of the loud footsteps. She had jeans and a leopard printed top and long, black hair that was down to her waist. I thought it was odd for a teacher, but hey, she might actually be cool and not evil like some teachers I've had.

"Hello, class." She said in almost a purring manor. It kind of freaked me out so I looked around the class to see if anyone else had noticed. Apparently, no one else had. Great, I had no more sanity left over from this morning.

"My name is Ms. Ba—Ms. Baton. I am your new history teacher!"

You could have heard crickets, it was so quite.

"This is when we say 'Good morning, Ms… uhh... Baton!'"

I joined the class in welcoming our new teacher. But, again, I think I was the only one who noticed her little stumble. Either she had a stuttering problem or she didn't even know her last name.

"Good! Now, I guess the Freshman First joke is up!"

A boy with blonde hair and blue eyes from the back of the classroom raised his hand.

"Umm, Ms. Baton, what is the Freshman First joke?"

She chuckled and sat down on top of her desk.

"Did you notice how everyone except the freshman where wearing uniforms?"

Most everyone nodded.

"Well, the older kids like playing a joke—the Freshman First—where they send out fake flyers about uniforms. Some of the older teachers informed me about this, seeing as this is my first year."

I could hear grumbles erupt from the class, but before anyone cold say anything, Ms. Baton interrupted.

"Now the time has come where we all are assigned lockers! Up first is," she looked down to a clipboard she held in her hands, "Miss Cassandra Holloway."