Turns out, I forgot that even with Paula's driving speed, it takes approximately 3 minutes to get to school in a car. So I guess I'll be working my first day of Junior year with 3780 seconds total of sleep. Great.

Paula practically carries me to the front steps, and dumps me against the door, before going to find a parking spot. Usually I would've run after her to make sure that she doesn't run my baby into a tree, but with only 3,780,000 milliseconds of rest, I'd probably start hallucinating and direct her off a cliff.

Pushing into the school's lobby, the general chatter of students fills my ears.

Okay, let's get something straight first. Remember all the 'be yourself' motivational speeches and 'popularity doesn't mean anything' PSAs they've crammed down your throats for the past 8 years? In high school, it means jack shit.

If you're lucky, your natural personality is likeable and charismatic enough for you to fit in and group with a bunch of buddies right away. Otherwise, the harsh and pitiful truth is that you'll have to adjust yourself to be able to muscle into an acceptable crowd.

Surviving high school necessitates being in a group. And if you're the kind of dude who listens to classical music and wears kilts, you might have to change things up a bit to find one, because being singled out is the worst thing to happen in a hormone charged gathering of teenagers like Onett High.

At this point of your life, sociability and the number of friends you have is credit to your name. Popularity, as shallow as it sounds, is important.

And you know what…?

"Ness! Dude what's up man?"

"Hey Nessie! How you doing hon?"

"Ness, bro!"

"Yo Ness! Sick party man! Come on over, I still wanna have a chance to beat you in Smash!"

…It's good to be on top.

With a lethargic but very happy smile, I trudge off to my locker.

-01210-

…first day of school's off to an interesting start, to say the least.

Me, Jeff, Fuel, and everyone else in my first period English class are staring at the new student. I mean, it isn't so much that he is Dalaamian, it is more that he decided to come to school maxed out on every possible Dalaamian quality.

Seriously, he is wearing a white bath robe cloth thingy, and his black hair is tied up in a ponytail.

A fucking ponytail.

And right now, he is either doing a wonderful job ignoring the stares of everyone in the class, or he simply doesn't notice. Because… y'know. Oriental eyes. Ahem.

Anyways, at that point the teacher (some old bearded guy with his shirt tucked in so far into his pants that he looks like he's ¾ legs) comes in and tells us to quiet down.

He isn't doing a good job of hiding his stare at the new kid either.

Of course, as is the gay tradition of starting every year of classes, the teacher forces us to introduce ourselves. He then, in a pathetic attempt to make things 'interesting', will ask us a completely random question, and hope to get to know us better through our answer.

When he gets to Fuel, he asks. "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

To which Fuel replies, "Your mother, last night."

Bam.

That is totally worth the detention he got.

I'm pretty sure I hear every person in the room hold their breaths when teacher rounds to the new Dalaamian kid.

"Well, young man, introduce yourself."

In true stereotypical fashion, he stands up abruptly, back straight, and says the following.

"Nin men hao. Wo de ming zhi shi Pu He Shan, xie xie nin men huan yin wo dao zhe ge guo jia."

Well then.

I wonder if he'll be willing to tutor me for future English exams.

After receiving a round of amused and confused faces, a wave of realization comes over his face, and he starts again, in a slightly more comprehensible manner.

"Hello. Thank you for... welcoming me into... this country. You may call me Poo."

That's not half bad. Although someone should tell him the Eagleland education system doesn't necessitate bowing every time he's addressed. He's gonna need to find a comfortable niche in the school to avoid getting singled out and preyed on.

English goes by without anymore hitches. I got reacquainted with most of my buds, even though I saw then literally a day ago at that end of summer party. I remember making sure I had at least one good friend in every subject. Not that hard considering I'm me. Having buddies in the same classes has benefits, like making time go by faster.

Or more often than not, a backup for when I 'forget' to do homework.

That's how school works.

But most importantly, I got some more sleep out of a relatively boring first period. 3,600,000,000,000 nanoseconds more. When Jeff wakes me up, I see a puddle of drool on my desk. Good luck whoever uses this after me.

The bell rings, and we file out, taking care to snicker a bit more at Mr. Poo as he marches to his next class. Fuel and I fist bump for his earlier rebuttal before he runs off, leaving me and Jeff to go off to Physics.

Ah, Jeff. Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. I'll get into him a bit later, when we get to his natural habitat.

Because at the meantime, we've reached a scene that's all too familiar around these parts.

Ninten, leaning back against the lockers, hands around Ana (hottie), who's standing on her toes to reach up to his face. Sharing a deep, deep kiss. Seriously, so deep that there could be a fire around them and they wouldn't notice.

Guess they picked up things right where they left off at the end of last year.

It's such common knowledge that these two are in love that literally hordes of students are shuffling past them without a glance. They may as well be part of the school infrastructure.

We walk up to them just as they break apart. Ninten and I exchange a grin and a bro hug. Though I much more enjoyed the friendly one Ana gives me afterwards. Of course, she also gives one to Jeff, but the genius (sarcastically speaking this time) is stiff as a board. Seriously, Jeff sometimes couldn't seem gayer if I slapped him in the face with a rainbow coloured condom.

But back to the other man of the minute, Ninten. It's sometimes creepy hanging out with him, since he has the uncanny ability to look almost exactly like me. We share the same black moppy hair and shit eating grin. I swear if he chooses to wear a cap like me he can be my stunt double. It's like having a mirror that moves around with you.

Other than that, he's a much better guy than me. He's calmer. More mature. Or whatever the fuck.

He also never swears. Ana keeps him in line.

In other words he's totally pussy whipped.

Well, so am I, to be fair.

Damn these beautiful blonde goddesses.

We hang out for a few minutes, and plan a few double dates. Not tonight, of course, since tonight I will be grounded. And trying to sneak out of a house guarded by my mom is the equivalent of shooting yourself in the kneecap with a shotgun.

Then off to Physics.

Ahh, ze wild Jeff, in his natural biome.

The thing about Mr. Andonuts here is that he's smart. As in, a nerd by nerd standards smart. The thick glasses and bowl haircut accentuate that point. You know where I learned that word? Accentuate? Jeff.

So why do I hang with him? A guy like me would be committing social suicide by being friendly with 'dorks' like Jeff. Well, we go way back. And he's also willing to help us dumber folks with schoolwork, so my friends have no problem with him hanging around me.

To be honest, I think they only keep him around for school help.

To be honest, I only keep him around for school help.

I think he actually looks at me as a real, dependable friend, and in a certain way that is true. But I don't think I reciprocate his feelings to quite the extent he has for me.

He's a lot better than Pokey though. At least he's useful.

Anyways, he takes off his Grade 11 Physics course in a jet engine, and by the time I wake up after another 0.041666 days of sleep, he's already on a leash and wagging his tail at the teacher. I smile. At least I know I'll be passing Physics.

So that's half a day gone. After sharing lunches with Paula and some shameless PDA in the cafeteria, I am off to Art.

Why the fuck did I take Art?

The reasoning seemed good in my head when I picked it. It seemed like an easy as hell elective to pass, and the seats for Music class were full. Ninten promised to take it with me as well.

Turns out, Ninten is the person who took the last available spot for Music. So now I'm stuck in this dumb class without a single person I'm familiar with.

I walk into the spacious classroom, and sure enough, am met with the kinds of people I expected to be in high school Art elective.

Crazy chicks and Goths.

Since I am the hottest guy born into this world, all the crazy chicks immediately slide over and give me their most charming smile, hoping I would sit next to them. But since I am committed to Paula and having normal kids, no way girls. Goths creep the fuck out of me, with their black lipstick and black everything else, so they are out of the option as well.

This class is gonna turn me insane.

Then, success! An open seat beside a relatively normal looking guy. I speed over to it, with all eyes on me as I travel across the classroom. They must've never seen a sane person before me.

Plopping down, I get a better glance at my classroom neighbour. Some off-beat blondie with a pretty cool anti-gravity hairstyle. I vaguely recognize him as some background character throughout my last 2 years of high school. I've never seen this in any of the groups I hang out with... or with anybody else, really. Wonder if he's a loner.

Then I look down, and I tell ya, I didn't think you could write your own name in such a retardedly fancy way until I saw this kid's paper. Seriously, I had to search between a mess (a very nice looking mess) of what looked like flowers and guns and animals just to read one word.

'Lucas'

His signatures probably took up half the page and a full hour to finish.

Since my reputation precedes me, there aren't many people in the school who don't know who Ness is or what the handsome devil looks like, and while I don't expect people to bow down before my presence (as nice as that sounds), I've come to expect at least a reaction when you sit beside the height of popularity.

But this guy, nothing. Not a passing glance, an acknowledging sound, nada.

And for some reason, that pisses me off.

Or maybe that's just me being irritable due to lack of rest, who knows.

The least I can be thankful for is that he's quiet. Well, so are the Goth kids, but I don't count men who wear mascara and bleach their faces as regular students.

I only need the teacher to drone for 15 seconds before I lose interest and fall asleep in Art class as well.

Only this time, I'm in for a rude awakening.

Somebody shakes my shoulder, and when I pry my eyes open, the first thing I see is a cartoonish pencil drawing placed in front of me. The drawing is of me sleeping, hands folded underneath a pretty well doodled face. And apparently when I sleep I create a huge snot bubble from my nose. And inside that bubble was one word.

'DUMBASS'

My head shoots up and I glare at my new desk neighbour, who's standing and ready to go to the next class, looking down at me with an innocent smile. Then he promptly leaves.

I hope that Lucas kid knows that he basically just kicked a sharks' nest with cleats.

Or however that analogy goes.

I drag myself out of the class, motivated by the fact that the learning portion of my day is nearly over.

Also helps that last period is my favourite. Gym.

Our teacher does good to pick dodgeball as a get-to-know-each-other sport, because I really need to bean some heads in. It's therapeutically proven to relieve stress.

And holy shit what a game it becomes.

So that Dalaamian kid, Poo, ended up in my Gym class, and I swear to god, I haven't seen a dude shoot up in popularity like this since the Great Lloyd/Ninten Union of 2011.

Because it doesn't matter if you speak the language badly, or that you dress like a monk to an Eagleland high school, or that your name is the equivalent of feces in English.

All that matters is that you can dodge balls with somersaults and backflips, and that you can throw a ball at the speed of sound with the accuracy of a sniper rifle.

And so the name 'Kung Fu Poo' is born.

While the rest of the class surrounds Mr. Kung Fu Poo as he talks about bringing in his Sword of Kings or whatever, I pack my equipment and lead Fuel and Ninten to the baseball field. Tryouts start immediately for the Onett ball team, and I ain't about to miss a chance to grace the pitch with my godly skills.

I lend my cap to Fuel and keep him between myself and Ninten as we pass our grumpy English teacher.

On my way there I swear I saw my car backed up into a tree trunk.

Oh Paula, I love you so, but come on