Yellow doors closed with a creek as Dean found a row of unoccupied seats toward the front of the bus. Hoping to appear insignificant to the other passengers, he seated himself close to the window and pulled out a tattered copy of 'Game of Thrones'. Fervently indulged in the somewhat pornographic novel, Dean turned yet another page, as the bus slowed to stop. More people boarded and he suddenly noticed how full the vehicle was. Trying to shrug off the inevitability of having to share his space with some random kid, he returned to the story, cherishing each word, until a jovial voice interrupted him.
"Game of Thrones?!" She gasped; her southern drawl apparent. Dean peered up from his story to see a young girl, around his age, with delicate blonde curls, bright round eyes and a pale complexion, grinning at him enthusiastically. "I think I've found my soul mate." She gleamed; eye's glistening, before seating herself next to Dean.
Dean straightened his posture and gazed back at the girl with intrigue. "I'm guessing you're a fan."
The girl nodded her head fanatically. "Well if you call 'owning all the signed books, as well as having the season box set' being a fan, then I suppose I am." They both exhaled a breath of laughter.
"The name's Jo, by the way."
Dean hesitated, slightly dumbfounded that he had somehow made a friend.
"Uh, D-Dean."
"Well, Dean, what's a pretty face like yours doing on the way to Lawrence High?" Jo flirted.
Dean gulped and his face grew hot. "Oh, I moved to the area a month ago with my mom, after my dad… well… After my dad... Uh..." He choked, unable to finish his sentence.
Jo's smile fell, her brow furrowed. "Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thanks." Dean replied, his voice shaky.
Aside from an occasional sigh, the remainder of the journey occurred in silence— whether that was due to Dean's lack of social skills, or Jo's struggle to conjure words, after hearing about Dean's father, he was unsure— but as they evacuated the bus, Dean's self-doubt slipped away, at the sensation of Jo's arm looping through his own.
"So…Which room are you in for tutor?" She asked as they both hiked through the field of untamed grass, toward the school gate.
"Uhh—" Dean paused, rummaging through the stack of books in his hands to find the answer. "Room 7B?"
Jo squealed. "No way! Me too! We can be buddies."
An innocent smile arose on Dean's face in approval of this new friendship. However, as he and Jo clambered up the steps outside the main block, a sudden knock to his left shoulder caused his toothy grin to fade away. His textbooks splayed across the wet ground as the thin sullen-looking guy who put them there stomped past, unfazed by his actions.
"Watch it, douche bag!" Jo called, helping Dean to pick up the, now creased and soggy mess that lay before them. "Here." She said, handing them to Dean.
"Thanks." He replied, absent-mindedly; eyes somehow glued to the remorseless douche bag that had just ruined his belongings; to the sheer darkness of his hair, the hollow eeriness of his eyes when they met with Dean's, the creased AC/DC shirt he wore- which reminded him of his late father, and how much he missed him…
With a click of Jo's fingers, Dean snapped out of his daydream.
"Sorry. Uh, who was that?"
Jo rolled her eyes. "His name's Castiel: frequent truant, callous bastard and Grade-A douche bag, if you ask me. If you want to enjoy your time here, stay away from him… easier said than done though, considering he's in our class for, like, everything."
"Hm, OK…" Dean followed Jo to class 7B for a (as Jo put it) "joyful introductory presentation on 'The Rules of Lawrence High'", absorbing his surroundings with a childish curiosity as he journeyed through the corridors.