You set your backpack at your feet and give it a satisfied pat. The bus smells like diesel fuel and sweat, and the restless teenagers around you are chattering like oversized squirrels.
"I hate this," Vincent mutters bitterly, scowling. You can't blame him. You've never liked busses, either, and you really don't care for the kids on this one.
There's a variety of colourful characters on this bus, you must say. The only other students you're on negotiable terms with are Mike and Jeremy, two fiends of yours from elementary school, and Marion. Marion is usually very moody, but he won't bother you unless you bother him, and you can respect that. He's sitting a few rows ahead of you, arms crossed and headphones on.
Vincent is quite another story. He can't stand anyone, and they can't stand him. It's really as simple as that. You can understand why they hate him, but for some reason, you don't. Hell, you've helped him along the way once or twice. Sometimes you think you might be crazy for some of the shit you two get up to.
Remember that time you tricked Mike and Jeremy into thinking the Pizzeria down the street was haunted? Yeah... actually, you're pretty sure they remember that too; and hate you for it. You aren't actually sure if Jeremy is even capable of hating anything, but Mike, on the other hand, is probably plotting your eventual demise.
Maybe if I'm lucky, you think, he'll show some mercy and I'll die quickly.
Then you remember this is Mike Schmidt we're talking about.
I'm fucked.