I stood in front of the depressing, prison-like building wondering if Hell would have been the better choice. This place just seemed to suck all that's good out of life.

I spent a few minutes more glaring at the building. Then I squared my shoulders and stomped forward. I muttered under my breath as I headed to my new class. Damned Satan.

I strode into the correct room and everyone stared at me. I admittedly saw Pepito. I had been shown his picture. I diverted my eyes and searched for the one I'm supposed to protect. I think I saw him, he was writing on a notebook and he looked kind of cute. In a scared little boy kind of way.

"Class this is our new student, new student why don't you tell us something about yourself."

I suddenly got nervous and thanked God for making me so nearsighted that my glasses were so big you couldn't even tell that I had eyes. I didn't want them to see my nervous twitch. I bent my head over so that my short brown hair covered the rest of my face, obscuring my blush.

"My name's Spencer and I really like reading. My dad owns a little ice-cream store down town. I don't have a mom anymore." I mumbled.

"Spencer? Isn't that a boy's name?"

"You LIKE reading? Nerd!"

"You must eat a lot of ice-cream to get that fat."

"You live down town? Doesn't that mean that you're a poor drug addict?"

"You don't have a mom? That must mean that she was a whore."

My head shot up in shock. What was wrong with these kids?!?! I tell them a little about me and I instantly get labeled?!?

I growled but took my seat; I can't get into a fight yet. Or at least not in front of a teacher.

But later their asses are mine.

I settled in my chair, finding it unusually comfortable, I stared at the teacher while letting the insecurities slowly seep in. My name was boyish wasn't it? And no one likes a nerd, I really could lose some weight, but I was not a drug addict and my mom . . .

No comment.

I huffed out a breath and surveyed the class. I already had some people I hated. Wait scratch that, I think I hated everyone. Even Pepito. He just reeked this self-confident air, like the world was his. But he was hot. I hate those combos.

The one who only gave me mild feelings of dislike was the boy I was sent to protect. I didn't like him much because he just reminded me of a broken toy. Useless. Used up. Breakable.

My thoughts were cut off by a piece of paper hitting my head. I looked around, and saw a kid snickering in the seat a few rows down. I picked the paper up off of the floor and unfolded it to see a badly done sketch of me drooling and saying "I a retarded nrd."

I crushed the paper in my hands and growled again. I hate this place. I hope it burns to the ground. Soon. Preferably with everyone in it.

The bell rang, waking me up from my comfortable nap. I stayed in a coma like state as I heard the room empty for lunch.

Lunch. . . I wonder if the cooking will kill me.

I was preparing to drag my body out of the chair and to the lunchroom when I heard the door open.

"Todd, I can't believe that you left your lunch, you always guard that thing with your life."

"Be quiet, I was really worked up about that story about the killer's knife."

"You really get obsessive about your stories. Hey isn't that the new girl?"

"What?"

"Right there she hasn't moved for about an hour, hope she isn't dead. No one would notice till she really started rotting."

"I don't think she's dead. Look, you can see her breathing. I think she just fell asleep."

"Really, she's a deep sleeper. She even slept through the big loud speech about how the text book is always right. I wonder what else she can sleep through . . "

"Pepito, don't! She's right- mmph!"

"Slurp"

"mmmmmm!"

"Gasp!"

"You like that Todd?"

"P-pepito d-don't please-"

"Well you did say please."

"N-no Don't-mmhhhhmmmaaa!"

I was not going to turn around. I was not going to see what they were doing, and most of all I would not let them know that I am awake.

I did my best to control my breathing and waited out a few more begs, whimpers and wet noises before the classroom door opened and closed. I waited a few more minutes before I slowly got up out of the chair and walked out of the room, headed toward the cafeteria in a zombie like state.

I hate my imagination. It is just to good at visualizing what those two boys were doing.

maybe i should change the rating . . .