Author's Note: I intended for this to be a one shot, but after reading it, I felt that there was still some more story to tell. So, I decided to keep going. I don't know how many chapters it'll be, but I do see a few more at the least.

Please enjoy...

Chapter 2

Whitney braced herself as she stood outside room 208. She peeked her head around the frame of the door and saw the rest of the class already at their seats. She leaned back and stood near the wall. It was Thursday. Only four days in to the spring semester, and she was dreading walking into her homeroom class. Especially since she felt like she was walking into a firing squad. Usually, she was one of the first ones to class, but as the rest of her "friends" kept piling on with the alienation, and the ostracizing, and well, just plain old being mean, she found herself dragging her feet today.

Taking a deep breath, she psyched herself up and pushed herself to move. She plastered a big bright smile on her face, only to feel it fall as she started walking through the door's threshold. She walked between Mr. Ochoa's desk and the front row of the class. She kept her gaze forward, trying not to look at the other honors students, until suddenly, she felt her balance get knocked off. She looked behind her and saw her rolling backpack was off its wheels and tipped over onto its side. She looked toward the seat in front of it, and saw Wendell staring at her, a smile of feigned innocence on his face.

Whitney scoffed at him, and he just shrugged. "Having trouble walking there, Whit?"

Whitney straightened up her backpack and walked, a little faster, to her desk, which had been placed in the back of the room, flush against the corner – again! She scooted it back properly into last position of the row and sat down. She pulled out her phone and began looking up… anything on the internet to distract herself from the sideways glances. As she scrolled through a fashion site, she was interrupted by a text from Margo.

M: No one wants u here!

And before she could erase that, one from David.

D: How do we get rid of u loser?

And then from Hailey.

H: Don't talk to anyone. Don't look at anyone. Ok, Shitney…

Whitney just threw in her phone back in her purse and tried to ignore the tone announcing the rest of the incoming texts. It was just a decathlon, she thought. And one stupid question, she further thought angrily.

"Alright, let's settle in for the next few minutes before you all head off to your normal schedule," Tony said as he walked into class. "Except for you Whitney," he paused as he sat down. "You need to go to Principal Madison's office."

Immediately there were whispers. Whitney ignored them as she got up and went over to Tony's desk. He was waiting for her with a pass that he'd pulled from his shirt pocket. "Something wrong?" she asked. Tony shook his head.

"Later, Whit," she heard someone say from behind her. She didn't bother to turn and look.

"You'll be fine," Tony told her as she took the note and left the class.

Paula was at her desk swiping through potential dates on her latest dating app, when she heard a knock on her office door. Now, who in the hell would bothering me this damn early, she thought, annoyed, as she came across the profile of a guy who looked like a young Shemar Moore

"Come in," she shouted to whomever it was. The door opened and in walked a teenage blonde.

"You wanted to see me, Ms. Madison?" Whitney asked confused.

"Have a seat." Whitney did as she was told. She watched as Principal Madison cleared the files immediately in front of her and grabbed one from her right side desk drawer. "So, Ms. Carson, Mr. Ochoa tells me that you've been having some problems in his class."

Whitney shook her head.

"Whitney?" Paula said, not believing the girl.

"I can handle it," Whitney said, her voice hiding her mixed emotions over the situation.

"I'm sure you can, but Mr. Ochoa's made it clear that he doesn't think your classmates will be stopping any time soon. He also believes that it'll get a little worse before it gets better. And despite you saying you can handle it, I'd rather you be safe than dealing."

"Meaning?"

"I'm transferring you to a different history class, which also means a different homeroom," Paula told Whitney.

"What?" Whitney almost shouted in shock. "You're transferring me? Isn't that a counselor's job?"

"Normally it would be, but Mrs. Garcia resigned last semester, and I'm taking a personal interest in this," Paula answered her.

"So, where am I going? Ms. Spencer's class?" Whitney asked dejectedly.

"Actually, I'm putting you in Mr. Iglesias's class."

"You're putting me in the drip tray?" Whitney exclaimed loudly.

Paula looked at Whitney impatiently. "No, I'm putting you with the best History teacher in school." Whitney scoffed. "Something you'd like to say, Ms. Carson."

"If Mr. Iglesias was the best History teacher in school, then why didn't he become the Honors History teacher when Mrs. Stone retired?" Whitney asked haughtily.

"Because he refused the position," Paula countered, causing Whitney to look at her in disbelief. "Yeah, he felt it was better to teach the kids no one else wanted to. I want you to remember that since the rest of your classmates are making it pretty clear that they'd rather not be around you right now," Paula said bluntly.

Whitney scoffed again. "That… that's not true."

"Sweetie, the reason Mr. Ochoa brought this to our attentions is because one of them accidentally emailed a message meant for you instead of the assigned essay."

"And what did the message say?" Whitney inquired.

"I'd rather not say." It was probably that stupid, juvenile flash animation I got Tuesday night, Whitney thought ruefully. "That being said, the decision has already been made. Mr. Iglesias is expecting you. I would hope that you make the best of this situation… because until the foreseeable future, you're stuck with the kids you like to call the drip tray."

"Alright, so, it has come to my attention that my trying to sneak in a history lesson during homeroom was frowned upon," Gabriel said as he looked around at the class awkwardly.

"As frowned upon as you having fun with the trainees at the dive thru window," Marisol said in an in-joke.

"Oh my God, stop it," Gabriel said in a high pitched female voice while waving off the comment. The class laughed while Gabriel smiled.

Suddenly, a small knock grabbed everyone's attention. Gabriel, and the rest of the class, looked up and saw Whitney standing at the door. A silence came over the class as they stared at the young blonde as she stood there nervous. For her part, Whitney was looking over the faces in the crowd. She knew a few - Marisol, Mikey, Walt, Lorenzo, and Grace. But the rest... not so much.

"You lost? Because I have a hand drawn map if you need it," Mikey said, garnering looks from the class. Most were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was joking; but then, as they watched Marisol pat his shoulder in a "there, there," manner, they realized he wasn't.

"Whitney isn't lost, guys, she'll actually be joining us this semester," Gabriel informed them as he waved her in. Whitney carefully stepped into classroom, before Gabe directed her to the empty seat next to Marisol. As she sat down, she looked around the room. The rest of the class was obviously looking her over. She could see a few of them whispering amongst themselves, while others rolled their eyes and acted like this wasn't a massive surprise. "So, Whitney, I don't know if Mr. Ochoa mentioned it to you before you came here, but in this class, I only have two real rules: work hard, and be nice."

"Um, no, he didn't," Whitney answered with a shake of her head.

"The 'be nice' part might be a little difficult for her to remember," Lorenzo commented, eliciting a few nods.

"I'm sure I'll figure it out," Whitney fired back, giving Lorenzo a dirty look.

"No offense," Grace spoke up, "but... what are you doing here?"

"Yeah, I mean you don't seem the type to mingle with the commoners," Walt chimed in.

"Unless we're all being switched," Lorenzo said, his paranoid voice taking over. "Quick, someone start looking for black helicopters."

"Walt, do you wanna handle that?" Gabriel said as he watched Lorenzo start looking around the room frantically and begin to start what looked like hyperventilating. Walt nodded and then Gabriel watched Walt begin trying to calm Lorenzo down. He could hear him saying, "Breathe and remember, you serpentined to get here."

Seriously, Whitney thought to herself. This group of misfit toys is the class that beat us?

"Sorry you had to see that so quickly, Whitney," Gabriel told her, laughing awkwardly. "Or any of us had to see that, actually. And guys, leave her alone so she can start easing into the idea of being here," Gabriel asked of his class. He looked at Marisol expectantly, but she just gave him a slight, barely perceptible shrug. Okay, so this is going to take a little more work than I thought, Gabriel thought.

This is going to be a long semester, Whitney thought on her part.