Wow, people are actually reading this... I just got really happy.

Once again. My mistakes.

PLEASE.

Let me know!

You walk into English class, looking around at the room set up. It was slightly cold, and you could hear the slight hum of the school's air conditioner. You shiver slightly as you head to one of the desks in the back, where it was still empty. Gamzee was still following you, the same stupid smile placed on his lips. He sits down, gesturing happily to the seat next to him. You sigh and place your books on the desk and you go to sit down.

Just as you were, rough hands shoved you away. You stumble and fall as you hear gruff laughter behind you. Your back and neck is showered with brand new papers and your binder. You look up to see a big guy in what was about to be your seat. He has your favorite book in his hands, and he's mocking it by flipping through the pages and laughing. You gather your papers in a rush and quickly say, "hey that's mine give it back-"

"Peter Pan!" the guy laughs. "You're reading Peter Pan? How old are you?"

"Uh-uh," you stammer. "Th-that's mine, and I, uh, would appreciate it if you gave it back..." You stand up, holding the mess of papers to your chest. In the corner of your eye, you can see Gamzee getting up as well. You ignore his actions and continue trying to get your dog-eared book back.

The bully's eyes travel to your shirt. "Wa hoa! What's this?" he asks, as he reaches forward and shoves your papers to the ground again. "'Peter Pan on Broadway'? Are yo kidding me?" he laughed once again, and you decide it's the worst sound you've ever heard. "So lemme guess... You're favorite things are flying children and moody fairies? Ha! Hahaha!"

He looks at your book, then dangles it teasingly in front of you. You go to grab it, but he snatches it away last second. "Pl-please, that's my, favorite book..."

"Aww, does da wittle boy want his book back?" he taunts. Then, he opens the book, and holds the page threateningly.

"N-no!" you beg.

But it's too late. He rips out the page as the sound of tearing paper pierces your ears. Then another rip. Another. Soon there's a small pile of pages on the desk.

You feel tears prick your eyes. "Th-that's..." you squeak.

Suddenly, a pair of hands rip the book out of the bully's hands. Gamzee glares at him and picks up the pages on the desk. He looks at you and says, "c'mon, Tav, let's sit up front." He walks towards the front of the classroom, his one notebook under one arm, pencil tucked behind his ear, and your book safely in his hands.

Maybe this year won't be too bad, you think.

English class went by smoothly. Ms. Casey seemed like the spacey type of teacher, but at least she was bubbly. She handed out the book your class was to read, and read the first chapter aloud to you. You decide that you will like this years English class.

Your other classes weren't that hard either. Finally it was the last class of the day: Band.

You have actually been looking forward to this all day.

You held your flute tight to your chest as you entered the room, cautiously looking around. This class wasn't only a sixth grade class, but it was set up so the seventh and eighth grade could meet up as well. You scanned the room, getting a feel for what you are getting yourself into.

There were the percussion, hanging in the back, laughing at a joke one of the drumstick-clad just uttered. Then the brass, and you think they're having a contest on who can play their instrument louder. Your ears pound slightly at the tinny sound the shiny bronze instruments. The clarinets relaxed in their seats, chatting among themselves. The conductor was not in sight.

The flutes were giggling and talking to each other, and, of course, none of them were male. You sigh. Last year, there was only one other male flutist, and he must of quit for this year. You take a seat off to the side, realizing that not a single flute from your old school kept up with it.

You quietly took out your instrument and put it together, resting it on your lap. You pulled out Peter Pan, reading it as you waited for the conductor to show up. As soon as you did, there was a tap on your shoulder. You flinched and turned around, only to be face-to-facepaint with Gamzee. He had a black strap around his neck and a saxophone attached to it.

"Hey Tavbro!" Gamzee said, grinning.

You place your book under your chair. "Hi, Gamzee."

"So the little motherfucker plays the flute, huh?"

You blush, sifting slightly out of embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, I do..."

"That's pretty cool, picking an instrument with all of the ladies." He nudges you with a wink. "Smooth, Tavbro."

Your blush increases. "I-I-!" you start, just when a sharp tapping could be heard from up front. You spin around and pick up your flute, looking to the lanky man who sat on the stool in front. He introduced himself as Mr. Grey, and immediately started passing out grading sheets and music.

At first, Mr. Grey (or Mr. G as some of the older kids called him) seemed like a cool teacher. But you soon learned otherwise- that he was a yeller. Mainly at the percussion, who would all give up. This class makes your head hurt, not only from the yelling, but also from the mediocre sound of a Middle School band. You sigh and count every second until this class lets out and you could go home.

Finally, 2:04 rolls around and Mr. G lets everyone go to their lockers and get on the buses. As you leave, Gamzee lengthens his stride to catch up with you.

"Man, Mr. Grey Day is quite the loud one, eh Tav?"

"Mr. Grey Day?" you repeat.

"Yeah. He just up and made me feel grey, and ruined my day," he answers with a teasing smile.

He manages to get a giggle out of you. "That's pretty clever."

He grins back at you and you two chat, until he has to go to his own locker. He says that he doesn't have to worry about catching the bus, that his older brother was going to drive him home. With a quick wave of his hand, he was on his way.

You smile slightly, and feel pretty good about today. You grab your backpack and whatever other crap you need and head to the buses.

Your bus pulls up to your stop and you hop off. Your book is held lazily in your hand, and you start on your way. A smile is plastered on your face, you can't wait to tell your friend all about today.

You're walking when some roughly pokes your shoulder. You freeze and hesitantly peek your head around to see who it is.

Oh shit, you think.

It's Vriska.

She has a devilishly smug grin on her face. "So, Toreadork, how was your first day of school?" she asks, faking interesting.

"It was great, Vriska..." you state simply, beginning to turn so you can abscond.

But she wasn't finished. She grabs your arm and holds you there. "Still have the same stupid book, I see. How many times have you read that since second grade? One hundred? Two?" She laughs at her own joke and her blue eyes glint.

You just shuffle your feet awkwardly. "Uh, no, but I do really like this book-"

"Oh I bet. Do you still have that 'friend' of yours? Do you still talk to him daily?"

"No, I don't!" you say defiantly.

"Aw, don't lie to me, Tavros. We could never get you to stop talking to Rufio last year."

"I-I don't talk to him an-anymore...!"

"I sure hope so, Tavvy." he shoves you aside and walks to her house. "Freak." She snickers and turns down her driveway.

You reach your hand up to rub your slightly moist cheek. You didn't even realize you were crying. You shake your head to clear it and burst full speed down the street.

No one can tell you to stop talking to Rufio. He was your only real friend.

Urgh sorry this took so long. Excuses are stupid, so I won't use any.

I originally meant this chapter to be longer, but I wanted to get this out there. Plus there's a guinea pig butt in my face.

Anyways, random news update. I'll be at Anime Boston this weekend! Yaay! On Saterday, and I'll be going to the homestuck photo shoot (Which is at 4:13. I'm still giggling.). If anyone, for whatever reason, wants to find me (coughhighlydoubtitcough) look for the shitty Terezi cosplayer.

Nuggets out! Peace!