"Hey there, faggot! Missin' ya boyfriend?"

Roars of laughter erupted all around me, at me, led by the effect of Chunk Butcher's words. With careless grace I pulled out the books for my next class and sealed up my locker.

"Sorry, Chunk, did you say something?" I called, perfectly calm and unaffected. A lifetime of bullying had hardened me to almost anything; no insult could cause me distress anymore.

Chunk let out a bark of laughter. "Missin' ya boyfriend, ain't ya? Mopin' about like a little pussy, why don't you clear off and visit little Zimmy?" The sniggers blazed to life again. Chunk smirked, and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's waist. Jessica giggled and snuggled into his chest.

For all the people that surrounded me it was as though they did not exist. I pocketed my locker keys and moved to stand directly before Chunk, at perfect ease. Over the years his excess flesh had hardened into powerful muscle; his orange hair sparked upwards in an admirable Mohawk. We had both grown to almost the same height, but where Chunk was bulky with strong, fat muscles, I was scrawny as a street rat. But I was not afraid. Six years of battling against Zim had turned me into somewhat of a fighter; my bones were like wire, I was stronger than I looked. Not as strong as Chunk, but strong enough to stand my ground.

"Better not let Zim hear you calling him my boyfriend, Chunk. He might flip out." I said cooly. The students around us who had known Zim in elementary and middle skool cringed at the thought of his anger. Zim had a wicked temper when he lost control.

Chunk snorted. "Like I care what that green prat does. You should bugger off to see him, Dibby, and bugger him." More laughter.

I grinned. Stepped right into the trap, Chunk. "Why Chunk, what's with this sudden interest in buggering?" I turned my head. "You should watch out, Jess, or before you know it he'll have you in the doggyhouse, if you get my meaning." Flicking my index finger towards his nose I winked, and briskly twisted around gaping Chunk towards trig, relishing in the cheers I had earned.

Mere seconds passed before Chunk screamed curses and threats down the corridor at me. If I had said that to him four years ago then it would have most certainly earned me a punch in the mouth, but even Chunk was not stupid enough to start throwing punches around in the middle of the skool, surrounded by teachers and eighteen year old students even bigger than he was. To some extent I was greatly admired by many students. I had been relatively open about my sexuality since the day I had discovered it, even though I knew it would earn me nothing but derogatory names and more isolation than ever. But despite this admiration I still had no friends, since it was common knowledge that I had been obsessed with Zim being an alien for a very long time. I had given up on trying to convince people of Zim's identity towards the end of middle skool, but it mattered naught. I had already been labled the 'crazy kid'. I did not care though, I did not want to be friends with people who would only except me for being like them. I would rather be on my own and know myself, than be with people who hated me for being me.

As planned I was the first into trig, the only other person present being the teacher. I took my seat near the front of the classroom and placed my belongings onto my desk. I preferred to sit at the front of the classroom as oppose to the back; there was less chance of people throwing things at me right beneath the lecturer's nose. I unzipped my case for a pen, retrieving my MP3 player at the same time. I pushed the buds into my ears; the music rang long and deep, the lyrics speaking as if personally to me. With another ten minutes until the start of class I reached for the magazine hidden inside my textbook, and read on from where I had left off this morning. I had developed this strategy to avoid the bullies several months ago, and to this day it never failed to work.

A sudden tapping on my shoulder caused me to jump, knocking my pen onto the floor. Rolling my eyes I paused the song and bent to retrive the pen, only to find that someone was holding it out for me.

I blinked in pleasant surprise. No one ever willingly helped me out. "Thanks," I said, taking my pen. I looked up to see who had helped me, and it was all I could do not to groan aloud.

Oh my God, God. Do you hate me or something? He stood there beside me for a good thirty seconds before I gave in and said, "Is there something you wanted, Keef?" Without looking up from Crop Circles.

Keef was possibly the only student in the whole skool who had a harder time with the bullies than me, and I was not overly surprised. The boy was - there was no other way to describe it - an irritating brat. He had many annoying habits and ticks, the worst being a whiny high-pitched voice that set my teeth on edge. His only friends were the other students labeled as 'rejects', who stuck together because there was no one else, and they did not appear to like him much. He had once hung out with Zim in elementary, but even the Irken got annoyed with him after a few hours.

To make matters worse Keef was also gay, and as a result he seemed to believe that he and I were friends - a concept that made me want to gag.

"Heya, buddy. I was . . . just wondering if you knew where Zim was?" Keef stuttered out, his fingers twisting together, his bright green eyes never leaving me.

Defeated at last I sighed, and put my magazine down. "Zim hasn't been in skool all day. Why would I know where he is?" I snapped. For God's sake, there were only seven precious minutes before trig. Why would he not leave me be to enjoy my music and magazine?

"Well, you're his friend, right? Didn't he text you or something?"

I almost choked on the very breath I took. Me and Zim, friends?! When the hell had I ever given off such an indication?! I quickly recovered myself before Keef tried to thump me on the back, and stood up.

"Okay Keef, let me correct just about everything you said," I said. "First off, I've told you before that Zim is not my friend. Number two, I don't think he even has a cell phone. And before you ask, no, I don't know why he's not in ether. If you're so interested why don't you go by his house after skool?" This was cruel thing for me to suggest, since it was obvious that Zim could not abide Keef. But for his part ignorant Keef seemed to relish in the idea. A beaming smile stretched across his face as he happily agreed and invited me to go with him. I flatly told him no. He was not fazed in the slightest by my rejection, and skipped off to his own seat without another word to me, as though I no longer existed. I sighed again, and sat back down.

For my part I could not understand why Keef was so concerned. Okay, so he had a monster crush on Zim, but it was not uncommon for Zim to skip days of skool. Generally he bunked on Friday so to avoid Biology, but nonetheless his skiving was hardly a shock. I only got nervous when he was away for more than three days, as this often resulted in him unleashing a sudden, evil plot. When we had first met Zim's plots were as naive as he was, but as he had matured so had his schemes. It was slowly becoming more and more difficult for me to prevent his attacks each time. True, the breaks between his plans could last for weeks at a time, but each one was now more deadly than the last.

I shook myself from my daydream as my classmates started streaming into the classroom, still laughing and sharing their conversations from recess. I quickly shoved Crop Circles inside the textbook before someone could notice and snigger.

"Settle down, settle down," called the teacher, his tone practically dripping boredom. My fellow students quickly rushed to their seats before detentions could be handed out. I could not prevent my eyes from sliding towards Zim's empty seat. In a flicker of my eyelids the classroom emptied, leaving no one but myself and the absent Irken's desk. If I focused hard enough I could almost see him lounging in his seat with his legs on the desk, chewing the plastic of his pen, with one hand resting casually on the sharp point of his slender hip . . .

The teacher's hand slamming upon his desk snatched me out of my fantasy before I could even question why I was thinking such a thing. I hurriedly pulled open my textbook to the page listed on the chalk board, and began taking notes in the margin as the teacher launched into the meat and drink of his lecture. I listened hard, worked hard, and tried hard to ignore the fact that, for some reason I could not fathom, my fringe was sticking to my forehead.