Another day, another set of random joys. Ah, how school treated you. Just another cock in the murder machine, or so says my good friend Jerry. God knows what that means, but there we go. It's funny; randomness seems to be all the range these days. To fit in with it, all you have to do is suddenly blurt out something totally irreverent.

And they call us anti-Einstein's… Whoever 'they' are, just listen to this; we actually made up a way of life!

No, right now, I'm just being tempted to put on those steel-toed boots of mine and kick the lump of uselessness that currently occupies my bike seat. No, that would be cruel. Better just stick to leaving him there to boil out here in the hell-hole that we call 'Outside'. Seriously, Jack really needs to stop drinking that much at night. Not only will it kill his liver, it will also just give him the involuntary hobby of sleeping throughout the rest of his life.

I care too much. Why the hell am I still standing out here in this heat anyway?

☼☼☼☼†

I hate it when this happens. What am I doing? I'm dragging his sorry ass through the (thankfully) open door of the classroom from which Jack will spend the rest of his days if he keeps this up. Everyone is looking at me, as if to say 'What the fuck are you doing?' Good question, actually. But it's an even better one to ask Jack when he comes to. If he was awake, he would probably be dying of embarrassment right now. I know I am. Then again, half of the class probably won't give a shit after the next period or so; a quick gossip about it here and there, you know, the usual. Once everyone that needs to know knows, it will all go down into their massive mind folders that are labelled 'Jack's stunts', Jack's doings', or 'dick head's stuff' (for all of those ex's that he cheated on). Me (again)? All I know is that it all goes in one place, and goes out in the opposite direction. After all, this is Jack Rippner, and this is basically has class role (hobby etc).

Just as I slump him down on his blue plastic chair at his somewhat plastic and white(ish) desk, the teacher walks in with her notes and books and various notebooks. If that pile that was currently performing the circus balancing act was to get any taller, she wouldn't be able to see where she was going. Unthankfully for me, she saw that I was the only student in the class that was standing up, and so, charged the blame upon me. At the start of the year, maybe I would have at least stood there in mock-shock, but if you know me by now, this is only routine. It should be Jack that gets done, not me. I am the one who has various and (mostly) uncalled for blemishes on my PR, whilst he, in terms of these 'uncalled for' mark, has a spotless record.

Bastard…

'Young lady, sit down before the principal walks in' She demands, as if I wouldn't do so if she hadn't told me to.

As I do as I was told, I look at jack, who is currently still sleeping with his head set firmly on the desk. Before I can do anything else but glare, something else comes into my frame of view; a hand (or more importantly, the right hand of the guy in front of Jack). I look at him;

'Jerry, what the hell are you doing?' I ask, concerned as to if he has actually snapped. Why the heck is he poking Jack's head?

'Just making sure that he hasn't taken route yet…'

Seems a logical answer.

┌┘└┐∞

When the time comes that we should have our first period, we are all disappointingly cut short of our educational intake due to an announcement from the teacher (which, I have to say, we have always called 'Da Hoe'. She struts up to the centre of the front of the classroom, right in front of the whiteboard. Hands behind her back like an army general, she begins to speak (a torture that we all must endure at some point in our currently meaningless lives);

'Everyone. As you all know (Melvin, pen down!), this room wasn't filled at the start of the year to its maximum capacity. So. I would like you all to welcome our newest addition to the class. And no Stacie, not at all in that way. You either Gareth…'

She goes to the door and summons this new kid to come into the room. After said action, she then resumed her original position;

'This is Rodney Fuller. Be nice'

We all look towards the door. He still hasn't come in yet. A good thing too; if this poor kid is wearing the classic geek look (like his name does), then so will his face when it heads towards the 'swirlpool'. Unfortunately for him, Da Hoe reopens the door and somewhat drags him into the room. The incredibly, unnervingly, quiet room….

'Hiya, Rodney…' Chuck the eleventh jock mocks, laughing at the same time. Why, though, is a complete mystery to me.

Okay, I'll describe him to you; he's white like Dracula (well, almost), his nails are painted black (painted nails being the first sign to most people as 'gay'), brimstone-black hair (probably dyed), and black clothing that covers most of his body. His boots in their own right are those that look so hard, black and decorated with metal that they would be banned in a fight (if you catch my meaning. Total ball-busters…)

'A Goth. You expect us to keep a bloody Goth in class?' Pamela whines to the teacher.

'Indeed. I expect you to welcome him with open arms, and I do not want you to give him the classic 'bucket-head' treatment…'

With that, everyone slouches back down, thinking up new ways to top their best-played 'welcome gift'. To make matters worse for the poor kid, there aren't any spaces left at the desks.

All except for mine…

'Rodney, please go sit over there…' Da Hoe says sweetly, pointing towards my empty chair next to me. My chair. The one that I use to put my legs up on when I'm feeling tired… When he sits down, he is still wearing his (quickly-became) normal expression; impassive. The kid's got guts, to say the very least.

'Hiya Rodney…' I quip, just to see if he's listening (or at least open). For a few moments, he doesn't say anything, eyes transfixed on the board, learning. Then it comes;

'It's Rod… And I you're gonna give me any of the usual shit, do it quickly before I actually get my roots…'

'And I would do that then why?' I ask, playing the 'jock'.

'Cause if you do, I'll be moving schools again, and you'll be moving into that hospital across town 'Ravenscar' or something, right?' He scolds coldly, eyes still facing the front.

I gulp.

The minutes until the bell rings go by before I actually talk to him again;

'You wanna come with us at lunch? Band practise…'

A/N: Ah, thank the lord of the marshmallows for Kerrang!. And you may be wondering where the hell I get all these characters from. Movies. And music, and a few based on people that I know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, happy holidays, folks!