On the way to Jordan's new school, there were at least three of Riverford's famed "supernatural spots." He passed a tree that looked like it had a man trapped inside of it due to how the bark looked like a face, a hotel said to be haunted due to the simultaneous deaths of three men at a dining table, and the river tunnels said to house mole men. Jordan doesn't have reason to believe any of them, as a town that doesn't have anything else interesting to it, naturally, makes things up so people come to see it.

But this town is interesting. It has a redwood forest right next to it, after all. A hiking trail with several beautiful waterfalls lies just outside of the city's borders. A colony of the near extinct brown bears can be found there, fiercely protected by the rangers around the town. This is a nice place to live, by all measurable means.

The only reason that Jordan can live in a house on a coastal californian town right next to a redwood forest is due to the untimely death of a man in his new house. All that Jordan knew was that he was brutally stabbed in the gut with some huge knife.

It took about 20 gruelling minutes to walk from his new house to his new school. The parking lot was jammed with senior and staff cars. Many students entered the grounds of the school under the large banner reading, "Welcome, class of 2004!"

It was at that moment that Jordan was reminded that he was fresh meat. Not just as a freshman, but he was new to the whole town as well. He's seen a lot of movies; being new means being targeted by bullies. Not that Jordan was afraid of bullies-he had a guardian angel, after all-but that guardian angel was the problem. Champion does not wait for Jordan's command to protect him from an attack. Whether it's a wedgie or a swirlie, they would get punched by what is essentially a ghost that causes small blackouts. Then he'd have to explain that.

He walked as calmly as possible to his first class, peering at his fellow students through his thin glasses. He expected none of them to notice him. But as if he was somehow standing out of the crowd, he got many sneering looks. He looked down. He was wearing a normal dark red jacket, jeans, and a gray shirt. He wasn't wearing anything crazy. Not all of them were staring, as most were just minding their own business, but he still got looks. He did his best to ignore them. He kept his eyes straight and walked just a bit faster.

The trend continued throughout the next four periods. Not everyone noticed him, but he caught at least two people giving him that same look. It was different at lunch.

While on the way to a secluded spot to eat, he was put to an abrupt stop. The momentum of his body came to a halt, the foot he was stepping with coming up into a kick as it continued without him. He could feel his shoulder firmly grappled.

Jordan spun to meet his assailant. He was large, probably an adult by now, at least legally speaking. He had a militaristic buzz cut, wore a football jacket, and of course had finely toned muscles. Jordan could feel himself under immense pressure.

"You're new here, aren't you?" He asked.

Jordan gulped, "Yeah, I'm a freshman."

He leaned in on Jordan, causing him to slink back. He tried to leave, but this senior was still holding his shoulder. "I didn't mean to the school," He said, "Us here in Riverford don't like outsiders."

"Uhh-" Jordan stammered, "I'm sorry, I don't-"

"I ain't looking for an apology," He gripped Jordan's shoulder tighter, and Jordan winced as quietly as he could. The senior continued, "I'm looking to make sure you don't cause any trouble, you hear?"

"I wo-"

"Outsiders bring bullshit, you understand," He grabbed Jordan's other shoulder, "WHAT BULLSHIT ARE YOU BRINGING, KID?!"

"I-I-I'm not-" Jordan could barely speak.

"Roman, cut the shit."

The senior spun around, clenching his teeth. Behind him was not a teacher, like Jordan expected, but another student. Another jock, it seemed. He was different, though. He had more hair, for one. Spiky and crazier. He had a trimmed beard, too. He was just wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Perfectly normal guy. Yet the crowd parted for him.

Roman let go of Jordan. "Victor," He said, "He's bringing bullshit."

Victor squinted at him, "The fuck you mean 'bullshit?' You're being an idiot again," With complete disrespect, he shoved Roman to the side. He also towered over Jordan, so it didn't feel less intimidating.

"Hi," Said Jordan.

"Hey," Victor said, "Relax. Roman's an idiot. Most people are idiots. This town has some sort of weird curse with outsiders," He looked over at Roman, "Not that it's real, but a lot of people are superstitious," He looked back at Jordan, "Just don't cause trouble, ok?"

Jordan agreed. Victor left him, and as he walked away, he saw that like a school of fish avoiding a shark, they separated. They funneled around him, and came back together right around Jordan. The jocks glared at him and bumped into him as they walked past.

But this is only a setback. He might not be able to be friends with jocks, but he can be friends with someone else. Yes, he thought, I will not sit along at the edge of school. I will find a place to sit, I will sit down, I will easily and slickly integrate into their conversation with natural charisma, and I can, for the first time in my life, make friends!

"I don't let outsiders sit at my table!" Screamed the leader of the skater kids, one of the many apparent factions at this damned school, "I, Donny Falcon, will not let your curse bring down my style!" He had been rejected about six times, but Jordan had not once heard his rejectors refer to themselves in the third person.

Then the bell rang. Jordan hadn't even eaten his food yet, since he was banking on finding people to sit with. He stood there, watching students pass him on their way to the next class with their big groups of friends. And he stood alone.

He took a baseball cap out of his backpack, and slouched it over his head. The guard would prevent him from making eye contact with anybody.

Then someone tapped him on the shoulder. Jordan turned around to see a pimpled, long-haired kid standing there. Before Jordan could say something, he spoke up, "I see you're having trouble getting along with people." Jordan could feel his emotions coming back up from the dirt once he said that. He continued, "Meet in room 2-B of the library after school. We play smash sometimes after school. You're welcome to join."

Jordan contained his excitement. "Thanks!" He sputtered out, "But uh...what's Smash Bros?"

The kid raised his eyebrow at Jordan, "Listen, you'd best pretend you know what that is, or you won't fit in with us either."

Room 2B of the library was in the back, and was used for the Game club. Jordan knew video games to be somewhat of a taboo hobby, but he was a taboo person, so it seemed like a good fit.

He opened the creaking door to room 2B, having to lean his weight against it to grind it open. In the room were eight people, two playing Smash, two playing battleship, and the rest playing some esoteric card game Jordan couldn't even recognize. They all turned and stared at him. Jordan felt pressure on his chest and neck. They were already skeptical of him. Just like the rest of the town, they weren't sure if they wanted to have him around.

But Jordan was determined. He swallowed his nervousness. He said to them, "Hi. I'm Jordan...I'm gonna be honest, I was told to come here because nobody else really wanted to talk to me. I was...kind of assaulted by this guy named Roman."

Some of them laughed. The only girl in the room groaned, "God, Roman. Did you smell his breath?"

"Obviously not, he's standing here, not in the ER," Said another kid. Laughs filled the room, and Jordan laughed, too. He had gotten through introductions.

Jordan realized he didn't really know how to do the rest of it. He didn't know how to integrate into conversation, or how to seem clever, or how to get out of the spotlight when there are seven people looking at him.

It was really easy to get out of the spotlight, actually. People just stopped looking at him and went on their way. In a sense, this was a kind of acceptance. They didn't reject him, at least.

Jordan decided to sit down with the ones playing the card game, and learned it was called Magic. They explained some of the complex rules as they continued, and Jordan was striking up minor conversations. He felt he was getting there. Like his goal was...attainable. Maybe not yet close, but attainable.

Then the door came open again. The conversations stopped as everyone looked to the door. Pushing open the door with one hand was a rotund kid, with thick round glasses and a blue collared shirt. He instantly stared at Jordan.

The pimply kid walked up to the one that just came in. He said, "Melvin, this is Jordan. He's new to town, and it didn't seem like he'd fit in anywhere else."

Melvin snorted at that. Jordan felt that the little progress he made was about to be taken away.

"Zeke," Melvin hissed, "You let a new kid in here just because he didn't find any friends yet?"

Zeke rubbed his neck. He stammered, "Well, it's just that everyone seemed to reject him-"

"Reject?" Melvin mocked, "We're the rejects! We're nerds! We're losers! We can't just let anyone else in here! We have a culture to preserve!"

"Hey," Jordan stood up, "If this is about that 'outsider curse' or whatever-"

"It's not about the curse!" Melvin pointed at him accusingly, "I don't know what kind of person you are! Do you even know what Magic or Smash Bros is?"

Jordan itched at his neck and mumbled, "well, I just found out what magic is."

"OH!" Melvin threw his hands up, "So you don't know! What about D&D? Star fox? Have you ever even watched Star Trek? Have you even completed a pokemon game? You've probably never even played a strategy game." He crossed his arms, scoffing at Jordan.

Jordan felt as if he were on trial. He moved his mouth, but no words came out. He wasn't confrontational, that was Champion's job. And he couldn't help in a battle of words.

"You don't need to know those kinds of things to be a reject!" Jordan retorted. It was the best he got.

"What do you even do? If you're really that much of a loner, you must have some hobby that we know of!"

Then Jordan snapped. In a crackly, puberty-driven voice, he yelled, "Fuck you, man!" Melvin recoiled, "I've been trying to just talk to someone all day. I've been shunned from every goddamn group in the school, and these guys are close to letting me in, and then you decide to act like the gatekeeper and critique me for not playing the exact games you did!"

Melvin felt threatened, and like a cornered animal, he yelled, "It's not about me! How do I know you're not like every other jock and normie!"

"Me? With how you're acting, you're no better than Roman!"

Silence.

What Jordan said seemed to take it too far. The argument had everyone staring at them, but now they were all staring at each other. And Melvin stood there, silent and calculating. His fleshy fists were clenched. His white teeth grinded against each other.

"Get out," Melvin commanded.

Jordan looked at his feet. He felt an immense amount of shame. Rejected by the rejects, he thought, I shouldn't have even tried confrontation. My loneliness will be no one's fault but my own. He took a step forward.

"Not you," Melvin looked to the rest of the club, "All of you! OUT NOW!"

The games were left paused in their place. Everyone scrambled out, following Melvin's demands. Jordan was dumbfounded, seeing teenagers follow one short sophomore with so much fear.

And so, it was Jordan and Melvin, standing off in a room. Melvin clicked his tongue and sighed. "Listen Jordan," He said, "There's something you need to know: In this school, and in this town, things work in a few certain ways." He took a step closer to Jordan, "There are cliques. Some are big, some are small, but cliques are cliques, and they like to be segregated."

Jordan chuckled nervously, "Are you being serious? This sounds...fake."

Melvin squinted at him, "What do you mean?"

Jordan shook his head, "I just...you know, I thought all those high school movies were, you know, exaggerated. I didn't think that these kind of cliques were real."

"This is just the normal way of things," Melvin asserted, "If you can't fit into a clique, that's your problem."

Jordan swallowed his fear again, and decided to take this seriously, "It seems like you're the one who has the problem. Those rejects seemed to be ok, the problem seems to be with you."

Melvin took a deep sigh, and said to him, "And when you threaten the leader of a clique...then you have to be put in your place." Jordan saw Melvin's eyes. They were green, but he saw a glint of something else.

What Melvin was saying was ridiculous to Jordan. Idiotic, really. But Melvin was serious about it.

Then, he heard the sound of a motor, and tires grinding against the ground. From behind Melvin, a cloud of dust flew into the air. Spinning around Melvin, Jordan saw a small, blue monster truck drifting around him and creating clouds of dirt and smoke.

"Is that a toy?!" Jordan exclaimed.

Melvin didn't respond with an answer, but with a more exclamatory question, "You can see it?!"

"Well, yeah!" Jordan pointed at it, "It's a toy, people can usually see toys!"

The monster truck stopped abruptly. Melvin looked confused. "Do you know what a stand is?"

Jordan blinked. He didn't answer for a few seconds. "Like a...music stand?" He asked.

"Wha ...what?!" Melvin babbled incoherently, "Do you even-...ugh!" He rubbed his forehead in frustration, "Ok, I'm going to get this over with."

The engine on the monster truck sputtered to life, and it charged forward, leaving a streak of blue light and a cloud in its wake. Jordan was able to kick up his foot before he was hit by the toy. It continued to crash into the wall behind jordan, shattering the wall, and breaking the wood into splinters.

"Hey, are you ok in there?" Called one of the club members from outside.

"GO AWAY!" Melvin screamed.

Jordan stared at the monster truck, which was struggling to use its wheels to get back in the right position to drive back at Jordan. Jordan thought, did that thing just break the wall? No, it couldn't have. It's a toy!

But Jordan's denial didn't help him when it came speeding at him again. It charged forward, then leapt off the ground without warning or reason. He was able to catch it, but it was pressed against his chest and shoulders. The grips on the wheels ground into his skin, no matter how much Jordan tried to push it away. He thought, It doesn't make sense. It's pushing into me, but nothing's pushing it.

"There's no use resisting!" Melvin shouted, "My stand, Shiny Toys, is not only powerful, but holds multiple abilities that I can use at any moment to defeat you!" He cackled at him, "I bet you don't even know how to use-"

His taunting was cut off when the TV released a sudden SCREEEEEE while it cut to bright static, just as the lights of the room began to flicker wildly.

"I...I don't know what a stand is," Jordan gasped. Around his body was a clear, blue light paired with streaks of lightning that cascaded off his skin. He seemed strangely calm now, despite the flesh on his chest threatening to be torn off, "But I do have a guardian angel."

Then the light was given form. A humanoid with red gloves and boots, a face like a luchador mask with ornate patterns that flow across the body like tattoos. It cocked a fist back, and in less than a second later, the monster truck was launched like a cannonball through the only window in the room, out of sight and out of mind. Jordan turned back to Melvin, holding the bloodied part of his chest and standing proud.

"This is my guardian angel, CHAMPION!"