To start with, I had no idea who she was. It's funny - we'd been in the same school and in the same year level for at least a year, but we still didn't know each other. But that was probably because we both kept to ourselves.

Chapter 1

I always take the bus home. Riding the bus is the last daily trial I have to go through that concerns school. The usual delinquents and morons ride back with me - leering guys who smirk my way, as if they've got me all figured out. Giggling chicks who whisper to each other as I walk past, as if I actually give a damn what they think. Oh yeah, my hair is dark green, and I have piercings in my ear, so I'm obviously a rebel, or some wannabe punk. Please. Spare me the stereotyping.

And for God's sake, I do not wear blue contacts. My eyes are naturally that colour.

I always take my time to get to the bus. I'm in no hurry to spend my time with the idiots that are supposed to be my peers. But the bus is particularly crowded today. I glance around, but I can't seem to find a seat anywhere. Dammit. The bus is moving. It takes half an hour to get to my stop. My bag weighs a tonne, and I can't find a seat.

Perfect.

Wait. Near the back of the bus, there's one seat left. Next to that girl who wanders around looking half lost, half stupid, and almost certainly mentally retarded. Who cares? I need a seat.

Even with the bus moving, I make my way down between the cramped seats, avoiding the poorly-concealed attempt to make me trip, easy to spot with the grinning moron's laughing face. Is it that fun to try and make someone's life miserable? But those tactics don't work on me. For me to care about embarrassing myself, first I'd have to care about the opinion of the idiots around me.

I stop in front of the empty seat. The girl is facing away from me, staring out the window, as if the filthy city scenery is the most fascinating thing she's ever seen. I clear my throat, and say gruffly. "Excuse me."

She ignores me.

"Hey!" I say it a little louder, in case she can't hear me. "Do you, uh, mind if I sit here?" I can hear the wolf whistles and whispers coming from the rest of the bus. Idiots. Can't they see this is the only seat left?

She still doesn't respond.

To hell with it. I swing myself into the seat without her permission, and jam my bag into the tiny space between me and the seat in front. I glance at her, but she still doesn't look my way. All I can see is her blonde hair, which trails all the way down her back, and even pools on the seat. I have to check to make sure I'm not sitting on any of it. God, she has a lot of hair.

I sit there uncomfortably as the bus lurches on, uneasy because I know she probably doesn't realise I'm sitting here. That bothers me for some reason, but I can't decide why. Deciding that it's unimportant, I reach down to my bag, just to retrieve a book.

Obviously my sudden movement catches her eye, because she utters a small squeak and almost jumps in her chair. She turns around to face me, and her sudden movement catches me off guard too. I involuntarily back off a little, but for the first time I get a proper look at her face. Now I can see why she didn't hear me. She's listening to a Discman - an old model, by the looks of it. She blushes when she sees me, and for some reason I flush a little too. "I, uh… I did ask if this seat was free," I explain gruffly. "You just didn't hear me. I'm sorry."

The girl just looks at me, her gaze a little vacant, in my opinion. "Okay…" she says it really softly, and I have to strain to hear her over the noise of the other rowdy passengers. After that two-syllable response, she just turns away again, and resumes looking out the window. I continue watching her for a moment, then turn back to my book.

That was all.

We didn't exchange another word the whole bus trip.

I try not to take the bus home. I… I don't like the crowds. And there are always a lot on the bus, all people from my school. I used to walk home, but my parents don't like me doing it. They tell me it's not safe, but I think it's even less on this bus. Maybe there might be strangers who want to hurt me on the streets, but on the bus there are unfriendly classmates who I know don't like me. I'm not really sure why they always pick on me… I guess I must have, um… a quality or something. Maybe it's because I'm not very smart. But some of the people that tease me aren't that smart either, I think…

But I guess there's nothing I can do about it.

So I sit near the back of the bus, even though that's where the loud, noisy girls sit. I can stand the girls giggling behind my back, but I can't stand the boys near the front teasing me. I'm kind of hopeless in situations like that.

I can just listen to some music, and pretend they aren't there. Classical music. It just sounds so pretty. Or maybe it just seems beautiful, against the gloomy backdrop of this grey, industrialised city.

Revolution. Pounding piano floods my ears, and takes up all the thoughts I have left wandering around. It's so beautiful. Moving. It expresses so much emotion, and completely absorbs my attention.

I can close my eyes, and allow myself to be lost in the breathtaking melody. I can pretend I'm somewhere else… What! A flash of movement in the corner of my eye. I snap my head around, and find myself staring into startlingly blue eyes - or really, blue eye, because the boy's left eye is covered by his long hair. He jerks back a little at the sight of me, and I blush, averting my eyes. He's saying something, but I can't hear him through the music. All I hear are his last words, which are said during a lull in the piano concerto. "…I'm sorry." I stare at him, but I'm not sure what to say. I wish I could ask him to repeat what he just said, but I can't put together the words.

"Okay…" I finally say softly, and then look away, back to the window. I don't know what else to say. I really wish I had heard what he was saying to me. Why did he apologise? Why did he sit next to me? I mute the sound on the CD-player, and try to imagine what he might have been saying. This is the only seat left, I had to sit here. I'm sorry. I guess it must have been something like that. I stew over that for a moment, then wonder if that's his real eye colour. I wonder if he's the same age as me.

…I wonder, is this fate?

Then, I wonder if I'm making too big a deal about this.

Probably.

I guess I must get off the bus before he does, because fifteen minutes into the journey, the bus stops where I get off. I stand up awkwardly, and he gives me a brief flash of his blue eyes, folding up his long legs to let me past, before turning back to whatever book he was engrossed in.

We didn't exchange a single word. And when I looked back at him just before I left the bus, he was still immersed in his book.

He didn't glance my way at all.