A week after moving in with Sam and Dean they enrolled you in the local high school. It wasn't a huge school but it wasn't small either. There were just enough people that everyone at least recognized people by sight but more than enough that everyone had their own groups to hang out with. Groups that were already established and you would not fit in with.
Dean stopped his car outside of the red brick building and stared at you.
"Well, _," he said. "I'll pick you up after school."
"Sounds like a plan," you say.
You get out of the car and walk up to the building. Other students are already milling about. A few toss looks at you but you ignore all of them equally and find your locker. It was painted grey just like every other locker in the building and you could probably fit inside it if you really wanted – not that you wanted to, it was just good to know.
"Nobody around here wears Converse," says a girl who looks rather like a starfish. "You're new. I'm Elle, short for Elizabeth. Who are you?"
The bell rings before you are obligated to answer and you walk away to find your first class. The hallways are in a vague order, each hall dedicated to a subject, but the rooms are numbered as if some drunk person was in charge and no one bothered to change it. Eventually, right before the late bell sounds, you find your science class. Everyone already has their seats. You're pretty sure they aren't assigned but people are sticklers for habit and they have all probably sat in the same seat since the first day of the semester. You vow to get there earlier tomorrow to throw them off and take one of their seats, but for now you settle in the back corner.
"Good morning, students," says a man with glasses, red hair, and freckles. "We have a new student joining our ranks today. _, would you please introduce yourself to your peers and tell them a little something about you?"
"I'm _," you say, standing up and cringing inwardly at the awkwardness of the situation. "I like donuts."
You sit back down while everyone stares, trying to figure out if you were serious or being stupid. With a sigh you decide that no one has brought your particular brand of humor to the town yet.
"Um, thank you," said the man who could have been a Weasley in another life (probably Percy, he was a right git). "Now, back to the chapter."
Every single teacher made you stand up and announce yourself to the class. By the end of the day you had a hard time remembering what you had said but you were pretty sure you told one of your classes – more than likely English – that you were abducted by a circus when you were nine but they returned you because you burned their pancakes.
"Hey, new girl!"
You look up from your locker and see it's the starfish girl, the one called Elle short for Elizabeth. She brought friends this time. Oh good, you had been wondering if her friends would also resemble sea creatures but most of them were decidedly normal looking.
"I heard you moved here from Washington," said Elle. "Is that true?"
"No," you reply.
When it becomes painfully obvious that you have zero intention of expanding, Elle tries again.
"Sarah said you have a pet turtle. Is that true?"
"Sarah is very knowledgeable on my life," you say, throwing a grin over your shoulder while you finish piling books in your arms. "I would trust everything she says."
"Look," says Elle, her smile going from fake to a glare. "I'm trying to be nice to you. I can make your life miserable while you're here, so I suggest you turn that attitude around or you will regret the consequences."
"I'm quaking in my out of style Converse," you reply drily. "Look, Elle short for Elizabeth. I appreciate your effort, don't take it personally, I just have no interest in being friends with someone who thinks an appropriate conversation started is to tell me that my shoes aren't cool."
Elle didn't seem to know how to respond, so you took that as your opportunity to leave. However, it seemed like one of her friends wasn't as dim witted – or maybe more so since she went directly for physical violence – and she shoved you down while the rest of the hall laughed.
Rolling your eyes, you pick yourself back up, gather your books, and walk to the front doors, praying that Dean would be waiting just like he said you would.
He was and you had never been more thrilled to see that black Impala in your life.
"How was your first day?" asked Dean when you threw yourself into the front seat.
"Every teacher made me introduce myself, I ate lunch in the library, and a girl shoved me down at the end of the day," you respond, closing your eyes while Dean pulled away from the school. "So all in all, not bad."
"A girl shoved you?" said Dean and if you didn't know better you would have thought he was upset at the news.
"Yeah," you sigh. "No worries, I'm not concerned with people who have the coping mechanisms of a four year old."
Dean stopped in front of one of those markets that held everything from food to car repairs.
"We're getting you some proper clothes," announced Dean. "And bedding. And shampoo. Sammy is tired of you stealing all of his."
Shopping. You had a love-hate relationship with shopping. It was tolerable when you were in the mood but when you weren't, it was an irritating task that you would rather avoid. However, you got out of the car and followed Dean into the market.
It turned out Dean enjoyed shopping, if he grin was anything to go by. He pushed the cart, added things that were needed, but seemed content to let you pick out what you liked.
You grabbed a few pairs of jeans and sturdy pants, a single skirt, and several long sleeved shirts. After that, you grabbed a few bras, some underwear, and then followed Dean to the bedding section. There were more choices from bedding than you were prepared for, which caused you to pause.
"What type of bedding did you have at home?" asked Dean, seeing you pause and hoping to be helpful.
"It was blue," you reply. "My mom picked it out. I hated it. It had ugly little bows everywhere."
You grab the closest set, all wrapped in plastic, and throw it into the cart, not caring what it looked like as long as you got out of that aisle as quickly as possible.
When you arrived back at the bunker and went to make your bed you found that you had chosen a set of Avengers blankets. It made your room look like it belonged to a little boy more than a teenaged girl but that almost seemed better, like something in your life retained innocence and belief in super heroes.
"Dean tells me some girl pushed you down at school," said Sam, leaning against the doorframe.
"Dean has a big mouth," you reply.
"Do you want us to take care of her?"
The offer seemed genuine.
"She's like two pounds, I'm pretty sure I can take her," you reply. "In all fairness, I had just rejected their offer of friendship – at least, I think that's what they were offering, they may have wanted me to worship them. I'll do more research and report back which it was."
Sam wasn't sure how to respond; you couldn't blame him.
"You're crazy," said Sam at last as if stating the obvious was needed.
"You may not understand my particular brand of insanity but you should at least admire my total dedication to it," you reply.
"You're not as crazy as Sam," said Dean. "Sam's a right nut job on his best days."
"Shut up," said Sam, though he was smiling so you assumed that Dean was teasing. "You're the one who's friends with Cas. If anyone's insane it's him!"
"Relax, we're all crazy here, it's not a competition," you say, stepping between the brothers while silently thinking that if it was a competition, you would win.