Erik sat flicking the table in Period two; Visual Art, frustrated at his own stupid mistrust.

She was so beautiful…

He had kicked himself for being so cold to Christine; she was the only one who had been genuinely nice, that hadn't giggled when he came into the music classroom, that hadn't stared blatantly at his damned mask.

Why did I fob her off like that?

He sighed and opened his art book and began to sketch a picture. There were lots of drawings already filling this book though he had only gotten it a week ago. He tuned out from his airy-fairy art teacher, waffling on about something to do with contrast and lighting.

Why are curls so hard to draw?

He finally heard the class erupt in talk as the teacher finished talking and instructed them to begin planning what their major work for year eleven would be. He sat sketching over those deep brown eyes, trying to curl the eyelashes perfectly as he wondered what the year would be like.

Major work? Why did I take art in the first place?

He looked around as he shaded in the shadow, watching students planning sculptures and paintings, abstract and classical works. He pulled out his black ipod and began to flick through his music until he found it.

Some of Ganoud's Faust will do for the moment…

He sighed as he began to listen to Margaritas aria as he outlined the intricately detailed earrings, diamantes in the shape of starbursts. Suddenly he heard a tap on his shoulder and instantly snapped his art book closed.

Ah crap…

He turned around and saw his airy-fairy art teacher, Miss Phelps, standing there with her hands on her hips. She pulled the earphone out of his ear and began to tell him off until she heard the music that was coming out of the earphone; opera?

"You're listening to opera?" she said incredulously and he blushed; why did people think it was so weird? "I'll be taking this; you can have it back at the end of the lesson" she said, removing the ipod from his hands and going back to her desk.

He watched her as she flicked through his songs and playlists, throwing a sceptical look at him every so often. Her right finely plucked eyebrow rose and he sighed.

She's found my stash of musicals hasn't she?

He shrugged and went back to his drawing, determined to get it right. He smoothed the round curves and angles of her face, so very different to his own.

If only I wasn't such a defensive asshole…
Erik walked with his books back to the locker area after the first two periods; it was recess now and he dreaded the moment he knew he'd have to sit alone and wait for the bullying to begin.

He made his way through the locker area, flicking open his locker and dumping all his books from the first two periods, except his art book. He slid it between his ancient history and Advanced English books, knowing he would get bored at some point.

He began to push his way through the masses of people and suddenly stopped when he saw Christine pass by, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

He saw her chattering with a tanned blonde girl with a pretty face and a stunning thin girl with sleek red hair. She reached her locked and he watched as an attractive dark blonde haired guy kissed her cheek and gave her a small bunch of flowers; white gardenias.

Bugger…

Erik turned from this; of course she'd have a boyfriend, a stunning popular girl like her. Only two hours into this school and he could already spot the social cliques; the popular attractive group, the smart group, music geeks, art nerds, Asian exchange students and the spotted loners, scattered across the groups, trying to join in but never really wanted.

He shuddered and moved to an empty park bench; it was so different to England, everything was outdoors while England had cafeterias and never good enough weather to be outside for long. It was pretty here with lots of trees, gardens and bushland with pathways and buildings landscaped into the environment. Maybe it would be different here?

He sat and pulled out his ipod and put on something normal, in case another person took interest in what he was listening to. He didn't want to be known as that kid in the mask who listens to opera. That isn't a very good reputation to have in a highschool.

He put on the new song from 'The Killers', the one modern band he could actually endure. He didn't mind old rock like Led Zeppelin, ACDC, Deep Purple and Pink Floyd. Queen was one of the best bands and Jeff Buckley had the voice of an angel in his view but all that music, while he liked it, wasn't what he loved.

'On my own pretending he's beside me…'

He adored classical, baroque, romantic orchestrated works by Handel, Mozart, Bach, Chopin, Bizet, and Wagner. He had saved up and seen eight operas in London and seen many more musicals at the West End theatres.

'This is your song…'

That was all he had left of his father; when he had died when Erik was only a baby he left him a pile of money in a bank account for him, which he could not touch until he was sixteen. He was seventeen now and used that money to pay his debt for all his theatre tickets, hardly making a dent in the money left for him.

'Since I've been loving you…'

He didn't live with his mother; she was back in London probably still on the drugs, refusing help. He had been sent to live with his father's sister and hardly saw anything of her as she worked long hours.

He never really had ever felt the word family was suitable to place upon any of the people he lied with; its not that they were bad people, just they never liked him. His mother, Madeline, hated him from the moment he was born, for something only cosmetic, unimportant. His father had apparently loved him like any father loves his son but he died only six months after Erik's birth.

'Smoke on the water, fire in the sky…'

"So what's with the mask?" came a deep voice and Erik pulled out one earphone and turned to see a group of menacing guys, arms folded and Erik gulped; he knew it was coming.

'Mama, just killed a man…'

"Nothing, I just have to wear it," he said quietly and the boy in the front chuckled along with the rest of them.

"So it wont matter it I take it off?" he reached for Erik's mask and Erik instantly threw his fist towards the guys face, knocking him off his feet as the rest of the group stumbled backwards.

'You need coolin, baby I'm not foolin…'

"You little shit!" yelled out the punched one on the floor. The gang gathered around menacingly cracking their knuckles and Erik quivered in fear.

"Brendan! What happened baby?" cried out Meg, running to the punched one on the ground, clutching his eye. She kissed him and looked worriedly at him as a teacher approached.

'He had it coming, he only had himself to blame…'

"That new kid just punched me for no reason, the psycho" Brendan said in a completely different tone, innocent and appreciative of his sweet blonde girlfriend. She turned and looked at Erik with disgust.

'Maybe this time, I'll be lucky…'

"That's just a punk ass thing to do; what'd my boyfriend ever do to you?" she said defensively as Erik clenched his fists in anger; it always happened this way.

A teacher approached having seen the scuffle and took Erik by the shoulder, telling Brendan to go to sickbay to get an icepack.

'And all I know is down inside I'm bleeding…'

"You're new to the school? Erik Destler is it? Well I don't know about England but that's not the way we act here. I'm giving you a Thursday afternoon detention and this is just a warning. Normally those who start fights end up with a day in-school suspension; we don't tolerate it here" the teacher lectured and Erik nodded; there was no point in trying to defend himself, he had tried so many times in England and he just had gotten into worse trouble.

"Yes sir" he said and handed the teacher his school diary and received a note inside it informing him of where and when his detention was to be.

He sighed as he read this as the teacher walked off; Thursday afternoon until five-the same time as his piano lesson.

Bugger…