Chapter two already, because it was already written and had been waiting to be posted.
"I'm Karkat, Karkat Vantas."
I sped up, dashing up the stairs and clutching the little piece of paper that had all the classes that I would have to sit through this year written down. I tried to forget the group of people that were obviously the douche bag group. The guy that talked to me was freakishly tall, and smelled of cigar smoke. Not to mention the creepy face paint covering his face entirely. I shuddered at the memory and started thinking of everyone else in that small group.
The guy with different colored glasses seemed alright, or at least not harmful. There was a boy with black hair and dorky glasses, a girl with blue in her blonde hair who was leaning against the dorky glasses guy, and an over excited girl standing right next to what seemed to be the leader of the group. The leader looked like a total douche bag, I mean come on, he was wearing shades.Inside. He had really pale skin, which would probably be my skin color, if I didn't have naturally dark skin. I stared down at my paper and back at the classroom numbers, trying not to attract attention to myself. The last thing I needed was more people asking who I was. Not like that mattered anyway. The first class on my list was math, room 413. Great, my worst subject first thing in the morning. Oh this will be fun.
I reached the room with about 5 minutes left, so I got up to the teacher to say something along the lines of'hey I'm the new kid, please don't make me introduce myself in front of this entire class, because I will fucking die if that happens.' Okay maybe not quite that but the idea was there. The teacher told me that there was a spot in the back and directed me over there. I put my stuff down and sat at the desk to look around the room. It was fairly big; enough so to hold twenty or thirty desks, the teacher's desk, and about ten extremely old computers in the back. The lights hung from the roof, brightening up the dull gray walls, with pictures of—what are those, planets? They look like fake planets—hanging. The bell rang, its loud pitch refusing to stop for at least ten seconds. Lifting my head up, I saw the douche bag kid walk through the door—ok, I guess it's not fair to call him 'the douche bag kid' when I know nothing about him, but come on. Shades. Inside!—and sit next to me. His pale blond hair was short and his bangs were pushed to one side. He seriously was the doucheyest person I'd seen at this school so far.
"Hey Kitkat, right?" His voice was smoother, and softer than I would have expected from him.
"You know, when I told you my name earlier, I'm pretty damn sure I said Karkat, not Kitkat. Wait, let me check, yep. I said Karkat. Kindly go fuck yourself."
"Jeez, I was just saying hi, don't have to act all defensive,"
"Ugh," I groaned. My curiosity was strong, so I said, "Well, you know my fucking name, so what's yours? Or do I have to call you something else? What about insufferable prick? That would work."
"Actually I've been called that before but—."
"Gee, what a surprise."
He looked angry for a moment, but he breathed in and cracked a crooked smile. "But the name's Dave Strider, the cool kid who runs this school," he leaned back in his chair, trying to look cool, and kind of ho—No.
'Karkat,' I mentally screamed at myself, 'it's been half an hour, you can't possibly think he's hot. Plus if you fall for him, he's not gonna like you back. You're a freak, an outsider, and he's the 'cool kid' (or so he says), he probably has lots of girls and guys falling for him. This is not a romcom! He's not gonna change himself for you so what's the point?'
"Great, now you can do whatever you want. And if you don't mind, I'm actually going to pay attention to the class now," I turned my head to the front, getting out my math journal and jotting down the starter problem, so I could start trying to figure it out.
I suspected he had just rolled his eyes and focused on the front of the room as well. I can tell that this is going to be the hardest class; with all the work, and Strider sitting right next to me. Maybe I can ask to switch seats. Or classes. Or states.
The teacher talked for the whole period about exponents and shit we already learned in eighth grade. I will never understand why highschoolers have to learn the same shit as middleschoolers. I don't know if it was because I'm new, or if this was how it's always taught, but the class was taking forever. My eyes glanced to the side to look at Dave every now and then, and to my surprise he wasn't even working. He has his phone in his lap, and was pretending to be taking notes. That bastard. Well it is what the dimwit douche bags at my old school acted like, so it shouldn't be that surprising.
The freckles on his face stood out compared to his skin, and there were a lot of them, making him look somewhat cute. Only somewhat though. His hair was platinum blonde, almost white. Like mine, before I dyed it. I don't plan on telling anyone that it's dyed, that didn't work out well at my old school. He had a piercing on his lip, just a small metal band circling back into his mouth. I turned my head back to my work, hoping I hadn't been staring for too long, and also hoping he didn't see me staring. I could feel my face getting hot. Well fuck. My attention went back to the work, trying to force the image of Dave Strider out of my head. 'Tough luck, dumbass. What part of 'this isn't a fucking romcom' did you not understand?'
