At first, you didn't like Dave at all. Of course, that was back nine years ago, when you were going to kindergarten. Your parents insisted that you go to human school, to be able to "integrate" with them. So, despite your tearful pleadings, you were sent off to school. You were especially mad because mom and dad couldn't go with you.

That was where Aunt Tavra came in. She was your adoptive... step-not-really aunt? He was Dad's brother's girlfriend (eventually wife). And the only human connection in the family. You were lucky to even have her. She ended up being your link to the human world. She dealt with getting you to school. Your knees wobbled as you looked up at the giant steel and concrete building. Aunt Tavra smiled and nudged you along. You were convinced you were going to hate it. You were right.

At first, you were happy enough. You sat alone, which didn't really bother you, and you did the work that was assigned to you, scribbling out a picture with a fresh box of crayons. You colored as carefully as you could, scribbling in your messy self portrait. Everything was fine as the beginning until everyone went outside. You looked at the playground in awe- it was shiny and new. The swings had thick metal strings that were silent unlike the creaky chains at the ones near home. It was clean and bright, and you hardly knew how to react. Slowly, you climbed onto one of the swings. You looked out at the cars hovering past, the wind tousling your hair.

"Hey," someone said. "I want that swing." You stopped the swing, to look at the kid that had talked to you. He stood in front of you, his arms crossed. He wore a red tee-shirt that was too big for him and black jeans. He wore glasses that flickered. You gaped. He had computerized sunglasses? You thought only rich people had those! And only grownups! What if he was a rich kid? You felt uncomfortable.

"B-but," you said quietly. "There's two more swings." The boy glowered.

"I want that swing," he snapped. "Get off our I'll break your glasses." You stared at the blond who scowled at you. You slowly stood up off the swing and inched away from it. He walked over, standing up to full height to intimidate you. It worked- he was a few inches taller than you and with his sunglasses you couldn't see his eyes.

You didn't get bothered by the kid for a while after that. You found out his name was Dave. He got yelled at the second day of school about wearing his glasses but he indignantly snapped, "Bro says!" He didn't say what "Bro said" or why, but the teachers ended up calling home and for some reason by the end of the call, he was allowed to wear his computerized glasses as long as they were turned off. At the end of the day, he had a lot of kids gathered around him. He became the leader of them all, and you were stuck in the back. You were afraid of them and it seemed none of the other kids wanted to talk to you anyway. He gave a quick wave goodbye to his friends before running off.

He ran over to a tall boy who was reclined against a parked hovercar, a sleek black convertible with orange lines running across the sides. The teenage boy looked a lot like Dave, with sunglasses and matching blond hair. His expression was blank and he ushered towards the passenger door with his thumb and got in. The other kids gaped, impressed by the expensive looking car.

Dave was the leader of the kids. And he seemed to enjoy picking on you. So, naturally, all the other kids did too. He usually called you names or passive-aggressively asserted his power over you like the swing incident. The other boys were more zealous though.

They made fun of you, your oversized, threadbare clothing. Your hair, and your crooked glasses. Your overbite. Anything, really. But one day it got worse. One boy shoved you down. You fell over, dirt spraying in your face. You felt your glasses snatched off your face. You opened your eyes, though they stung from the soil in them. The group of boys laughed at you and jeered. You felt tears at your eyes from both the pain and the words. You reached forward desperately.

"Let's break 'em!" One boy cried, laughing.

"No! No! I need those!" You cried pitifully. Cruel laughter was your response. One boy held them above his head.

"Should I?" There were cheers of agreement.

"No," someone said. "You shouldn't. You give 'em back to him right now or else!" The boys turned. Dave stood tall, his fists clenched. The boy with your glasses, obviously trying to outdo their leader shook is head. "Right now or else!" Dave repeated.

"Or else what, huh?"

"Or else I'll tell my Bro!" Dave cried. "And he knows how to sword fight and so do I. So you better give him back his glasses." The boy's smile faded.

"I'll tell the teacher!"

"I'll tell them you took his glasses!" Dave cried back, loudly. So in the end you got your glasses back. You quietly thanked Dave, but he was already gone.

It didn't stop him from still bullying you but for some reason he made sure the other boys stayed in line.

In first grade, he moved away. Without Dave as a mediator, the bullying got worse. Name-calling morphed as you got older into stealing your things. By the time you were in middle-school you were running home, out of the human neighborhood as fast as you could. Otherwise you'd be cornered and you'd have your homework ripped to shreds, and you'd be tossed around. Your glasses were taped up at every hinge from being snapped over and over. Mom and Dad couldn't afford a new pair, you'd had the same ones since you were five. And as hard as it was to see out of them, you were practically blind without them.

In eighth grade it reached it's height. You got beaten up near the end of the year. The only thing that stopped them was Aunt Tavra came looking for you and snarled at them, threatening them away for you. She helped you up and dusted you off, and you felt stupid. You felt stupid and stuck. You were a human. Weren't you supposed to fit in with the rest of them? Tavra took you home, and you tried to keep a smile on, though you felt worthless.

Ninth grade came. You kept your ratty sweatshirt hood over your face, looking down at your feet, cleaning your glasses over and over. "Hey, this seat taken?" You turned to the voice. A lanky blonde boy stood in front of you, holding the seat with one hand, propping himself up with it. He adjusted his glasses, sunglasses that flickered with pixels. His expression was flat.

It was Dave Strider.

Thoughts swarmed your head. How he'd been the closest thing you'd had to a friend. Even though he'd been the one to start the bullying. With him around, school had been more bearable. You wondered why he wanted to sit with you. You shook your head quickly. He slumped down in the seat with a sigh.

"Nice to see you again, John." You blinked. He knew your name? You smiled, but you couldn't keep it for long before you turned back to rub at your glasses with your shirt.

A/N: hello! i hope this chapter was up to snuff. i think the next one will be better.