I sat behind him. Wilson. At the time, I wanted to reach from behind the passenger seat and slam his head into the car door window. It was something about that brown hair, that kind, cool demeanor. It was infuriating! I guess it was because of my new situation. As of that day, in the middle of October, I was to start school.

My spine tingled at the thought of sitting with a bunch of drooling, idiot children, eating glue and messing their pants. You see, I wasn't starting in the third or fourth grade like I should have, I was starting something the school system of North Dakota called the "Up Start" program. I'd spend a few days in pre-school. Then after a few days of observation, I'd be with a kidnergarden class. Some long day's afterwards, would be Halloween vacation, then first. So on, and so forth. I hated just the thought!

And when I finally arrived at the, rather large, school, I dragged ass like I'd never dragged ass before!

"Will you hurry up? You'll be late if we don't get you signed in. And I'm not going to have you be counted absent on you're first day!" Claire yelled, seeing that I was still in the car. She stood on the side-walk in front of the elementary school. Every adjoined building was some abomination of either red and white, or red and grey.

Opening the car door and slamming it shut a little harder than normal, I joined her side.

"This is a waste of time." I muttered.

"What? You're education?"

"Having to share an entire day with a bunch of four year olds... Is Wilson staying in the car?" I said, looking back at him. He was diddling through the car manual. I saw through the ruse, he was watching me. Prick.

Claire's hand pressed against my back, egging me forward deeper into the confines of the school. "Stop pretending you're interested in what Wilson's doing and get a move on. The sooner you get in, the sooner I'll be back to pick you up and you can complain all you want."

"Promise?" I asked, slinging my weightless book bag over my shoulder. The only things in there were a pack of pencils, and a bunch of crap like napkins and construction paper, that were on my "School readiness" list. You'd think with the four hundred dollars a year to start this crappy little misadventure, the school would provide the unnecessary burden of hunting down and buying all this crap!

"Promise."

******************************************************************************

I hate school. Not so much the fact that I had to learn. That wasn't the problem. The problem were the relentless children who ran along the walls and stared through the window to see a seven year old taking a pre-school class. I was embarrassed to say the least. I choked down my anger with each passerby. But soon found myself full, and tired.

I think the most humiliating moment of my day was when the teacher, obviously not seeing that I wasn't a toddler, telling all of us (the class) that it was nap time. And it was a time that I found how truly vulnerable the children of this town were. A piece of information, that if threatened, could be used for...

I caught the thought just as it started. What I didn't catch, was while the lights were out, and the teacher was gone on break, that I'd been producing and retracting claws. It's just a matter of control. As long as I could visualize the transformation, I could achieve it. I guess this was one of the many perks to being what I am.

Mind you, I wasn't right in the middle of these little ones playing around with my anatomy, I was backed off by the windows. I made sure to find a good spot where it took a little concentration to see me. Due to the rays of light that glared through the classroom windows, it wasn't hard to pick my hiding spot.

I reflected over listening to these kids butcher the alphabet. A little chubby Asian kid (I couldn't tell whether he was Vietnamese or Korean), also named Michael, had it down all the way to his "T's" after that he had trouble separating his numbers from letters. Him, I liked. The other's, I really didn't care too much for.

After that, we'd color. If I had the talent, I'd have drawn, in great detail, me hanging myself. But since I was born without the artist's touch, I drew a decent picture of my new home. I showed the two other children at my table how to mix colors to make new colors. It back fired and I wound up with red paint on my lap. And let me tell you, red paint on a pair of Khakis is very noticeable.

******************************************************************************

Hours later, I sat on the sidewalk. I watched after bus-load, after bus-load of kids, both older and younger, left the school. Smiles plastered across their day worn faces. I wished I could be one of them up until I saw how many people could fit on one bus. Then I became quite glad that I didn't live near these kids. I was a good twenty minutes out, and the busses ended their routes just under fifteen miles. And the only other school was... how should I say, less recommended. Kind of like a place for second chances... I'll leave it at that.

As the last of the buses were leaving an older student from the school hung his head out of the window. "Hey, It's that retard from the toddler class! Look everyone!" It didn't take long to find him, nor did it take but a second to find a rock at my side.

People were laughing, but what I found much worse, were that people were watching. When most people at the time heard the word, retard, they thought mentally challenged. It was instinctual, and something I knew a lot about. Instinct, that is.

Children all around were making their own comments as the boys bus was pulling away.

"Idiot boy spilled paint on his pants! HAHA!!!"

"Shut up." I called back.

"Oh. He's just some southern hick! That explains a lot!"

Children feigned horrible southern drawls. Making L's sound like W's. The whole shebang. And all I had, was one rock. And I threw it, and struck the stupid boy who hung out of the bus window. I saw it in his face as I threw the rock that he was getting ready to join back in with one final insult. But when the rock broke his two front teeth in half, causing his mouth to pool with blood, he quickly rethought his decision.

Teachers were on me instantly. Yelling and threatening me with "Paper work"! Oooooh! I wasn't scared of them. As long as that little prick learned his lesson. I should have been scared though. I didn't know the frayed wire I walked along as well as I thought I did. A truth that would become more and more apparent as the years passed on.