Chapter 2: The New Kid

A/N: Thanks to everybody who wasted their time reading the first chapter! You guys made me feel special. But, seriously, review once and a while, will ya? Thanks :D

Do you know how remarkable it feels, running down an empty hall? You're beaten and bruised but you keep running, racing against the clock, reaching your destination in the nick of time.

The irritating sound of the warning bell echoed loudly just as I burst through the doors of Mr. Endicott's homeroom, weaved through the rows of desks to get to mine at the very back corner. When I did, everybody around me stood up and started towards the front of the room, murmuring things like "weirdo" and "freak". Eh, I've heard worse.

I brought out my notebook, like I always do before (and during and after) class starts. I fished around in my bag, I couldn't have lost it could I? As I started having a mental panic attack, I felt the familiar cylindrical shape of the object I was looking for. "My lucky pencil!" I mumbled, a little too loudly than intended, earning some dirty looks from my classmates.

I began drawing the first thing that came to mind; a dove. People say it represents peace. I say it represents individuality. I mean, when you're randomly throwing around bread crumbs in the park to the pigeons how amazing is it when you see a lone dove among the sea of greyness? The pigeons avoid it 'cause it's different, but, really, we're all born the same in one way or the other, some just choose to stand out.

My train of thought was interrupted when my head was smacked onto the table by some unseen force. Said unseen force happened to go by the name Duff McKagan and it looks like he brought a friend along. It appears that troublemakers come in pairs.

The two of them looked right about similar. Band T-shirts, leather pants, boots and blonde hair in that ridiculous, big, puffy hairstyle everybody seems to have these days.

His friend had an irritated look on her face as he started explaining how justifiable it was to hit a girl. I didn't notice her moving into the seat next to me.

"Hi, I'm Jasmine" Stupid name and a stupid accent, but why should I care? I nodded at her, this was as polite as I care to get.

She stared at me in anticipation, "What's yours" Bitch clearly didn't know the definition of personal space.

"Sophia" I said simply, carrying on with my drawing. Couldn't she take a hint that I justdidn't feel like talking? Or thinking. Or breathing, for that matter.

The sound of thousand paged biology textbooks being slammed onto wood reverberated around the room, which made everybody but myself shake with fear. "Take out your books!" The teacher, Mr Endicott, ordered.

Everyone else hastily obeyed his command whereas I remained in my usual contemplative state. Why everyone was afraid of him, I honestly couldn't understand. He was short, balding and chubby. He looked partially like an old, friendly grandpa and slightly like an overweight paedophile. He was funny to watch, the way he thinks he's the creepy teacher of the school, how he sports that overly dramatic glare, how he demands we remain in a state of fear when he's in charge. I find it rather amusing how he got everybody following suit.

"Sir," the new kid said in barely a whisper. She was afraid of him? Huh, maybe she's not as tough as she looks. "I'm Jasmine McKagan" Duff's relative! I fucking knew it.

"Ah yes," He started scribbling down on his clipboard "Sister?"

"Cousin." She stuttered out again. Watching other people in fear is one of my favourite pastimes.

"Well, they mustn't have added you to the roll yet." Well, duh, of course they wouldn't have otherwise you would've known her fucking name you ignorant fucktard. "Is it Jasmine with an 'e'?" Well can you fucking spell Jasmine without an 'e'? Like, Jasmin, now, how would that make sense you fucktard.

"Yes." Simple responses? Blank expression? Radical Clothing? Stereotypical highschool drop out. I'd give it three months.

Endicott said something else but I couldn't be bothered to give a damn. I felt somebody nudge me. I. Do. Not. Like. Being. Nudged. That Jasmine kid, "What's our teacher's name."

"Endicott." And next time, don't fucking touch me.

"Mr. Endicott?" God, she's dumb.

"No, Mrs. Endicott." Hoping I made her realize I didn't want to talk, I continued with my drawing.

Instead of taking it the wrong way (or in this case, the way I wanted her to) she continued bombarding me with useless questions, "What are you drawing? Is that a dove?"

"No" I learned from an early age that sarcasm was one of the best weapons to use against people you don't like. That, and an M-14. "What do you think it is?"

"Jasmine, do you understand the notes or do I need to go into further detail?" Endicott said from behind his desk, "Jasmine? Ms. McKagan, do you understand?" Sir, I don't think she does. Try speaking slowly with smaller words like 'you', 'are', and 'retarded'.

Rather than snapping back to focus, she continued staring blankly at my drawing with her mouth hanging slightly open, almost comically.

Eventually she did come back down to earth only to be greeted by a glaring Endicott, "Sorry, what was that?", she murmured.

"I said. Do. You. Understand." Oh, just imagine her terrified face as she heard that. At times like this, I'm thankful for having Endicott as my teacher.

"Yes" she said rapidly, obviously not wanting to look like an idiot. Sorry, honey but you can't hide who you are.

She quickly started catching up with her notes after that. I didn't bother taking down notes. I mean, we had all this stuff in the book which I already read and reread, what's the point in learning it twice?

I ripped out the page of my sketchbook with the finished drawing and folded it neatly into a paper airplane. Making sure nobody was looking, I tossed it out the window, watching it glide endlessly across the sky, like a dove should.

Was the bell taking significantly long to ring that day, or was it just me? I'm pretty sure this was just another one of those days when I'm simply bored out of my wits so I did what I always did when I was bored (and also when I was entertained as well); started another drawing.

Wait, no it was the bell. Class was taking way too long. Most of the students were either passing notes or had those newfangled game machines out. I'm surprised at how unobservant Endicott may be at some times. Wait, no, he's asleep. Damn the teachers and their decaf lattés.

I noticed Duff and new kid passing notes, with the new kid occasionally taking peeks at my drawing, which I tried my best to hide from her peripheral vision. She should take a hint and mind her own fucking business. Nosy people always get killed in the movies, you know.

Finally the bell did go and everybody headed to second period—well, everyone except Endicott, who had a Sharpie moustache at the moment.

It was only when I was packing up when I became aware of what I had drawn. It was a sketch of Jasmine with thousands of doves pecking out her eyes, a very good likeness, if I do say so myself.

New kid was still looking at me for some reason, creepy shit (and that's coming from me), "Hey, kid." I pulled on her sleeve (well, if she can nudge me why can't I?), "Don't try to look at my fucking drawings" or me, myself, for that matter.

She looked absolutely appalled, exactly the way she should be.

A/N: Love it? Hate it? Despise its very existence? Review! Flames are welcome but hate on GnR and I will get pissed.