"Are you sure you don't need help?" Jake asked for the upteenth time, but Bonnibel shook her head, lugging the large keyboard case beside her. It wasn't extremely heavy, but it's boxy shape made it difficult and cumbersome to transport. Still, Bonnibel was just as determined to carry the instrument on her own as she was to learn how to play it properly.

"I'm fine, Jake, thanks…" She grunted with her exertion.

Jake looked her up and down, shaking his head.

"You don't have to take that thing back and forth every day, do you?"

"No, I'm allowed to leave it at home, so this is the only time I have to transport it. It's not too bad. Just a little heavy."

"Oh, Bonnie. You should have maybe chosen the piccolo?" Lady teased, giggling as she patted Bonnibel's head gently. The statement made Bonnibel grin, and in response she blew a raspberry at her friend, sticking her tongue out playfully.

"Kyaaaa, now I'm soaked~" Lady laughed, hiding behind Jake. "Be my umbrella, boyfriend!"

"And get hit by flying spit? No thanks." Jake rushed ahead slightly, and when Lady chased after him, Bonnibel gave up on keeping stride with her friends.

"I'll see you two tomorrow!" She called out. Jake turned to face her, jogging backwards to wave at Bonnie, but tripped over something and fell, pulling Lady down with him. Bonnibel gasped.

"Are you two ok?" She called out, laughing when the blonde girl smacked Jake a few times on the chest good naturedly. He rose and helped her up, holding a thumbs up out to Bonnibel. Lady offered her a small wave, so Bonnibel let out a relieved laugh. She watched them as they left, slowing her pace to a serene walk.

As she walked, Bonnibel allowed herself to look around the school much more closely than she had in the past. Lots of students were clowning around like Lady and Jake had been. Others ran around in groups of five or six, causing a ruckus and making a mess of the front of the school with dropped papers and junk food wrappers.

Smaller, quieter groups of friends sat in circles, sharing stories and homework answers, and a few stray students sat around on their laptops or books here and there.

It was serene, the picture of the school. Bonnibel realized it was the first time she'd really felt anything close to admiration about her new home city, and she smiled a bit to herself. This was good, she was adjusting. One step closer to this place feeling like home.

The weight of the keyboard digging into her shoulder broke her out of her short lived reverie, and for an instant she wished she'd taken up Jake on his offer. She adjusted the straps, relieved when the edge of the parking lot came into view. Just a little more now.

She let her mind wander to distract herself from the inconvenient instrument, thinking about how many steps it would take to get to her car. She watched the people around her going to their own cars, counting their steps absentmindedly so that she could estimate her own travel distance. Before she could make a solid guess, however, something caught her eye as she reached the second row of cars. She looked more closely as she walked, and finally placed it as familiar long, waist length hair billowing gently in the wind.

Her heart thrummed at the familiarity, and Bonnibel found herself slightly excited for the chance to learn more about her classmate.

"I wonder what kind of car she drives." Bonnibel whispered to herself. As she rounded a small minivan at the end of the row of cars, she noticed Marceline wasn't alone.

The person with her looked somehow oily to Bonnibel. It was a boy, if not a young man, standing a few inches over Marceline. He was leaning towards her, yellow grin visible even from a distance. The sides of his head were shaven, and the dirty little tuft of hair he still had atop his head was bleached almost white. His clothes resembled Marceline's, dark and devoid of any graphics. He popped the collar of his black jean vest up over his ears, and though Bonnibel couldn't figure out exactly why, the action bothered her.

What bothered her most, however, was Marceline. The girl was slouched against the wall, arms crossed tightly. She looked like a soldier with a bellyache, tense and unsettled.

The boy leaned in to say something then. Marceline turned her head away, but Bonnibel was hardly close enough to hear Marceline's soft murmuring. The boy laughed loudly at whatever Marceline said, reaching out to grasp her arm roughly, throwing her off balance.

Bonnibel tensed, expecting the worst from the girl in response- a yell, a slap, a reprimand at the least. Instead, Marceline staggered a second before regaining her posture, allowing the boy to leave his grubby hand on her arm.

Marceline never looked to crumpled, or so small. Bonnibel was used to Marceline's confident stride and stance. Seeing her like this made her stomach feel like it was digesting itself. The boy moved towards her again and she recoiled, turning her head away from him. He stroked her long hair, bringing it to his nose to smell it. Bonnibel's stomach lurched again.

Bonnibel couldn't understand Marceline's lack of fighting spirit, but something within her tinged upset, stopping the thoughts from truly reaching her. She rationalized that, regardless of how awful it was, Marceline would probably put up with more unpleasantries from a boyfriend than a normal friend, so it was natural she wouldn't pull away just because this boy was touching her a little roughly. It wasn't like he was hurting her in any way. Still, Bonnibel felt uneasy whenever she laid eyes on the boy, her hands itching to touch Marceline's again as they had on the piano. She wanted to pull her away.

Bonnibel felt a cold shiver run down her neck when she noticed the boy had turned towards her, and suddenly they locked eyes. Had she been staring? Had he noticed? Marceline wasn't looking at her, thank God, and Bonnibel quickly shouldered her keyboard, all but running towards her car in fear that Marceline would notice and think she was spying on her. Which she wasn't. Obviously.

When Bonnibel finally reached her car and was able to slip the heavy instrument into the trunkf, she was completely overcome with relief. She tucked into the driver's seat, pulling out of the parking lot with a newfound desire to get home. On the way to the exit, Bonnibel drove by the area Marceline had been standing in with that boy. She ducked slightly to try and conceal herself, but noticed curiously that he had left. Marceline stood against the wall still hugging herself, and from the way her shoulders bobbed, Bonnibel's heart knew she was crying again.

Something told her to get off the car and run to Marceline. Go envelope her in a hug, to whisper to her reassurances, to know what was wrong. Friend things. Comforting things. If it was Lady, she wouldn't have hesitated. But this was Marceline, and Bonnibel knew Marceline would hate it. She breathed deep to smother the little voice in her head, trying to convince herself that Marceline neither needed nor wanted her help. She left the parking lot, taking the shortest route home.

Her efforts to not think about what she'd seen failed completely. All the way home, Bonnibel thought about the boy. Who was he, and what did he dare say to Marceline that affected her so badly? Her stomach ached with anger. She hated him, and that scared her.

Bonnibel arrived at her apartment complex a few minutes later, and after parking in her usual spot, she felt at a loss for what to do. She held her phone in her hand, fingers itching to text someone about what she saw, to ask for insight, maybe even help. But who could she call? Who would even care enough to be concerned about the things she'd say? They'd tell her she was overreacting, and Bonnibel thought to herself that maybe she was. She shouldn't get involved. In the end, she had no other choice than to give Marceline her space.

"It's what she wants. She wouldn't put up with a boy like that if it's not what she wants. It's Marceline." Bonnibel thought to herself. "Marceline's tough. She knows what she's doing."

That night, Bonnibel set up her piano in contemplative silence, going right back to playing her arpeggio. She hoped to improve so much in one day that Marceline would be impressed. Maybe she'd be happy. Maybe she'd grin at her, or give her praise. After the day she'd had, Bonnibel wanted little more than to see the other girl smile.