I do not own One Tree Hill. At all.

Sleep is, apparently, a relative term to my father. After I got into my conveyor belt bed, he was still tinkering around for what felt like hours. The noise didn't cease until almost three in the morning. And then sleep, thankfully, overtook me. My alarm started going off much too soon.

I prepared for my first day at Tree Hill High School the same way I did for all the others- slowly. I was not that excited to be a Raven. As I dressed, I wondered if I would see any of the faces that I'd seen last night at school. I sincerely doubted it, but I was hopeful. From what I'd heard from my father, Tree Hill was smaller than all my other schools, but it was rare that I ever saw a friendly face that first day.

Dad offered to make breakfast, but I opted to grab something on the way instead. I was too jumpy to sit still. I needed to drive. I needed to fly. I practically ran to the Mustang, my school things in hand, and started the car. A Day to Remember flooded my speakers, the first track on the CD I'd made last night. As I skidded out of the parking lot, all I heard was the lead singer scream, "Everybody's out to get me!"

I smiled to myself as I sped to school. I'd woken up later than I should have. I did it knowingly. No one expects the new kid to be on time on the first day of school. I was simply living up to their expectations. When I hit the main road in town, I was in the home stretch. I took a turn into the McDonald's parking lot that was just before the school and ordered a chicken biscuit to curb my hunger. Then it was off to school. Oh joy.

I walked in wiping the crumbs from my biscuit off my face. I'd chosen a simple outfit for the first day of school. Ripped jeans, Converses, and a Reel Big Fish t-shirt. I threw my leather jacket over my shoulder and started towards the office.

The receptionist looked nice enough, even if she did chew her gum a little loudly. She smiled when I gave her my name and directed me down the hall to guidance. I smiled and thanked her for my help and started on to the torture chamber that would be making my schedule.

As I walked in, I noticed two things right away. One- this school had really terrible lighting. Two- everything was so…happy. It made me uncomfortable to look. I introduced myself to the woman behind the desk and she asked me to have a seat at the table until one of the counselors was ready. I sat down next to a boy that was shuffling some folders around. He looked at me and asked, "First day?"

I nodded. "You too?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I work here. Don't worry. You don't make it too obvious that you're lost and overwhelmed. And you've got the 'I don't give a fuck' swagger down too, so you should be set, no matter what terrible classes they give you."

I laughed at his biting sarcasm. This boy was funny. He wasn't even trying to be. He was just genuinely funny. "Thanks," I said. "I'm Brooke, by the way."

He smiled back at me. "I'm Skills."

"Nice to meet you," I said. And for the first time that I had ever said that to a new student in one of new schools, I meant it. And that felt amazing.

A skinny blonde woman came out and said, "Brooke? Brooke Davis?"

I raised my hand and started to gather my things as I said to Skills, "See you around?"

He nodded. "Count on it."

The guidance counselor was named Ms. Mollet. She was ditzy and unorganized, but a genius at scheduling. "You've taken a lot of advanced classes, I see."

"Yes ma'am," I answered.

"Well," she said. "I think I have everything all set. Tell me if you see anything that truly upsets you. We only take four classes a day here, but they're for an hour and a half each, so it all balances out. Just let me know about that first semester, and once finals come around, we'll talk about the second."

I glanced at the verdict. I had advanced English, debate, Spanish, and theatre. It looked alright to me. I'd definitely seen worse. "Looks fine," I answered.

She smiled. "Good. Your first class is just across the hall in room 104."

I thanked her for all of her help and scurried across the hall. As I opened the door, the entire class hushed.

The teacher, a tall and slender black woman who had to still be in her mid-twenties asked, "Yes?"

I cleared my throat. "Um, I'm Brooke Davis. I'm a new student."

She smiled. "Ah, yes. Well, how about you take a seat behind Katie here, and we'll get you settled in. But first, tell us a little about yourself."

I swallowed nervously. "Uh, well, I'm Brooke. My dad and I move a lot because of his work, and I have never wanted to disappear as much as I do right now."

The class laughed and I took my seat as Ms. King, as she said her name was, settled back into her lecture about comma placement and correct conjunctions. I smiled to myself. One class down, three to go.