Much to your chagrin, you get to school with five minutes to spare and nothing to do. You take out your class sheet or whatever hell the damn thing's called and look it over. First period is art, room 58. Not because you like art, but because it's easy and a college requirement. You sigh and head into the campus, looking around at the miscellaneous throngs of people.

There's those goddamn preppy girls that everyone hates, you muse, and the wierd devil worshippers or whatever that nobody wants to go around, and the skaters, and the jocks...

You look over at the first small building, rooms 1-14 it looks like. In the opposite direction, there's another building with a few rooms on the front labeled in the forties. You head that way, figuring it'd be going up from there. And sure enough, on the backside, room 58. There are a few other people waiting outside of the door, and some of them look quite a bit older than you. You slip your class sheet back into your pocket and glance at your watch.

7:28.

You'll only have to stand there for two minutes, it'll be alright, you tell yourself, two minutes. Great. Fine. Okay.

And you do it, you stand by the people and wait, glancing around at them with a mixture of intrigue and anxiety. There's a girl with a binder tucked under her arm who keeps looking around anxiously like a raptor's going to attack her or something. Her backpack is a pattern of dogs and cats, and you figure she must have lots of pets. There's a boy who's backpack is slung haphazardly over one shoulder, and he's bobbing his head like he's listening to music or something. Maybe he is.

You kind of hope you don't have to sit next to him.

But then, you kind of hope you don't have to sit next to anybody.

There's another girl who's doodling in a sketchbook already, who'd look quite at home in an art classroom. And, another boy who looks like he would do anything to not have to be going into that class.

The bell rings, but it's not really a bell. Just a loud, screeching noise from the loudspeaker. Moments later the door opens and you all slowly file in.

There are a bunch of tables with papers on them, and the papers have names at the top. You look around to find your name, thinking about how this is sort of like elementary school. Finding your nametag or whatever. You finally find yours and sit down, putting your backpack beside the leg of the table.

The paper is actually a calendar, and you assume you'll have to write down the daily assignments there. Which is kind of stupid, but you don't run the school.

Sure enough, at the table next to yours, that guy with the music sits down, immediately starting to tap his foot on the ground. You look up at the ceiling and sigh.

The girl with the animal backpack sits down at your table, looking around the room.

The boy who looked like the drop of a pin would push him to homicide sat on the opposite side of the room from you, and for that you were grateful.

You don't need that kind of bullshit.

Music man at the table next to you turns around in his chair, folding his arms on the back rest thing and really looking the part of a smug douchebag. Who the fuck wears sunglasses inside anyway?

He stares at you for like a minute. Which isn't a long time, but it's a long time to be staring at someone.

"Can I help you?" You say finally, raising an eyebrow and turning your hands palm up like 'what the hell?'

"Follow up question," he replies, tilting his head and shooting pistols at you. "Got an extra pencil?"

You nod.

"Can I borrow it?"

You sigh and dig a pencil out of your backpack, handing it to him.

"Damn, you're a bro. Thanks." He says, turning back around.

You shake your head and look up at the ceiling again.

The girl sitting next to you looks at the ceiling too. "Why do you keep looking up there? Is something there or have you just got rabies?" She says, looking over at you.

"Um... There isn't anything up there, I just-"

"So you're rabid?"

"No, I-"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." And she laughs. "I'm AC, by the way. That's not my real name, of course, that's just what everyone calls me."

"AC for Assinine Cat-lady." The guy sitting next to you says.

"Oh, shut your smug face befur I scratch it off myself." 'AC' says, somehow good-naturedly.

"You're not really helping your case there." And he turns to you. "I'm slim shady, by the way."

"I didn't know Eminem was still in high school." You muse.

"Okay, you got me. Would you believe Napoleon?"

"No."

"How about Juanita?"

"Probably not."

"What about Dave?"

You consider for a moment. "Yeah, I'd probably believe that one."

"Alright then, that'll be my name for today. Nice to meet you, Ray-Bans." He says, shaking your hand.

And you figure you've just gained a nickname.