Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

"Ah, the bus," Meg drawled, hefting her backpack. Christine nervously bobbed on the balls of her feet.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"Put it this way: if you can survive the bus ride, you can survive the Cell." Meg flashed a quick grin as the large vehicle arrived, peeling yellow paint and all. Christine gulped.

The doors swung open with what Christine thought was a totally unnecessary shriek. A frail, tired-looking old man sat at the wheel; he looked over his glasses at them and mad a brisk motion with one hand. The girls climbed aboard, Meg looking completely at ease, Christine shivering in apprehension. The latter looked back one last time at precious sunlight, wishing that she didn't have to leave it, and then—

A ball of paper bounced off of her forehead. She blinked.

"What?"

Meg grabbed her sleeve and pulled her bodily into a seat. "Don't acknowledge them," she instructed calmly. "If you ignore them, they'll—"
"Stop?" Christine finished hopefully. Meg snorted.

"Are you kidding? They won't focus as much on you alone and you should thank your lucky stars for that." At her friend's uneasy expression, she added, "Don't worry. I'll walk you through the day. It's easy once you get the daily pattern."

"And how long does that usually take?"

Meg shrugged. "Meh. A week to a semester, depending."

"On what?"

Eyeing her beadily, Meg smirked. "On you, my dear. But like I said, I'll walk you through it. No major bodily harm shall come to you. Not today, at least."

Trying to ignore the tangle of nerves that was her stomach, Christine looked out the window. The landscape, though mildly familiar by now, seemed wrong to her. Dreamlike, almost.

In sleep he sang to me…

She shook her head, willing the words away. The last thing she needed to do was focus on that stupid dream.

"Welcome," Meg was saying, "to Hell in a high school."

"Can you say 'paradox'?" Christine quipped thoughtlessly. Her friend giggled.

"Sarcasm, very good. You'll fit right in."

Barely dodging a flying stuffed penguin, Christine gave another weak smile. "Joy," was all she could manage as Meg once again grasped her arm and hauled her off the bus and into the building.

The halls were more than crowded; the best word Christine could think of was "crush". The crush of bodies seemed to lunge at her, all grinning faces and mindless chatter. Twice, Christine nearly dropped her backpack as shoulders slammed unflinchingly into her own.

"Do you want to go to your locker?" Meg yelled over the din. Resisting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears, Christine shook her head.

"Where's my first class?" she shouted back.

Consulting a sheet of paper, Meg smiled. "Lucky you."

"What?"

"Geometry first hour. I hope you brought your thinking cap." Meg snickered. Christine felt her stomach plummet.

"I don't suppose you have that class too?"

"No, I've got History. But you should be okay." Meg winked. "Who knows? Maybe you'll get to sit next to a hot guy."

At that moment, Christine couldn't have cared less about the male species. None of the faces she had seen had been appealing; all of them were either smoking or leering. Still, she tried to smile at her friend.

"Here we are," Meg told her, pointing to a dark little room at the rear of the corridor. "Mr. Hall. He's okay, but he likes to keep the lights off and the PowerPoints on, so I wish you luck in staying awake."

Christine swallowed. "When will I see you next?" she asked, feeling very much like a child on her first day of kindergarten. She wished blindly that her father had never died, that she'd never had to move here.

Meg shrugged, peering more closely at her. "Probably at lunch. Three hours or so from now. Do you think you'll be able to manage without seeing this beautiful face until then?"

Christine tried once again to smile even as Meg bid her a quick goodbye. As she watched her only friend dive back into the mass of people, she muttered, "What happened to walking me through the day?"

"Talking to yourself?" a kind voice asked from inside the darkened room. Curious, she poked her head through the doorway.

"You can come in, you know," the voice said cheerfully. "In fact, I'd prefer it. It's difficult to broaden the minds that remain in the hallway."

Obediently, she stepped into the room and found herself face to face with a tall thirty-ish man—Mr. Hall, she presumed. He offered her a ten-pound book and a swift grin. "Welcome. Take a seat, Miss…?"
"Christine Daae," she answered, dutifully choosing a desk at about the midpoint of the room.

His eyes widened ever so slightly. "French?"

"Very." Her lips quirked upwards. "I'm dismal at the language though. Can't speak it with the proper accent to save my life."

He chuckled even as he turned his attention to the small mob that entered, leaving Christine once again to her nervous thoughts. Math, although not her strongest subject, wasn't a complete nightmare. She usually did pretty well, assuming she paid a decent amount of attention to the lectures.

"Good morning," Hall said, taking a stand at the podium that had been set at the head of the class. Christine jumped, realizing that the room had been filled before her very eyes.

"Good morning?" Hall tried again when all he received was an incoherent murmur in reply. One eyebrow lifted and he shook his head. "Wow, I got a happy little group this year, didn't I?"

Another dull murmur. Christine fastened her gaze to the desk before her, tracing one finger absently along the scratch marks adorning the tabletop. Vandalism…it can be so amusing…

Suddenly, she stopped and lifted her head.

A boy, probably seventeen or eighteen, had appeared in the doorway. Tall and exceptionally thin (perhaps unhealthily so), he was hunched over and dressed in several layers of baggy clothing, which made him look less elegant than he truly was. A sweatshirt concealed his face with it's hood's shadow and a coat was over that, adding to the strange picture.

Mr. Hall looked up as well. "Ah, Erik, good. I was afraid you'd be late. Take a seat, sir; I'll be with you in a moment."

The boy—Erik—nodded and chose a spot in the very back of the class. Christine watched him out of the corner of her eye even as Hall said cheerfully, "Class, this is Erik, my T.A. If you ever need assistance and I'm not available, feel free to speak with him."

"Yeah, right," a boy snorted from the front row, which Christine found horribly rude. The rest of her classmates, however, seemed to share the boy's feelings on the subject. Some of them smirked, other jeered. Erik made no indication whatsoever that he'd heard them, not even when a girl hissed, "Freak…" loudly enough for the entire room to hear.

Christine frowned, waiting for the teacher to comment on the abhorrent behavior. All he said, however, was, "All right, calm down. Now, who wants to read the syllabus aloud?"

A/N: Okay, this is going slowly, I know. Bear with me, I'm still fleshing out the plot in a notebook. Won't be paying much attention to History tomorrow, I can tell you that much. Review replies! Or rather, reply, as I have only one review at the present time:

Doomed Delight: Thank you for reviewing! It's been so long, I almost forgot what those look like. –grins- I'd also like to thank you for giving my humble little fic a chance. I don't think it's going to turn into one of those crazy past-life senarios, but you never know. I'm making no promises as of yet.