Disclaimer: I own this. All of it. Reeeaaally.

A/N: If you're going to review, I'd appreciate if you could give some constructive feedback, or constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy. :D

c1.

He never quite understood why he didn't just pick his own seat. He likes to blame it on the girls with fluffy pens, the ones who made him feel like a cornered animal. Once The One Chair had been designated for him, however, there was no going back, which, coincidentally, is the one thing in the world he wants to do.

Just two steps back. That is all he asks.

It is his first day of school, and he is Mr.!New!Kid! Girls point and whisper, guys hope he can throw a ball. Underclassmen hope he's one of them, upper classmen don't need to be told that he is a senior.

He would like to be home, curled safely under his blankets. Instead, he is in unfamiliar halls and walking into an unfamiliar classroom, where an unfamiliar English teacher puts him in front of the whiteboard.

"Write your name," she says with a friendly wink. He obeys, wincing when the marker squeals against the board. Tilting the pen at an angle, he scribbles his name messily and makes a move to sit down.

Mrs. Sensitive puts a hand on his shoulder. "Not yet!" she tsks, grinning.

He imagines he's in a three-ring circus and wishes he had popcorn to give his classmates as they file in - anything to distract them from him. Two girls sidle conspicuously towards him, giggling like dingbats, but Mrs. Sensitive herds them to their seats.

The bell rings, and the desks are full. All eyes on him.

"All right!" Welcome one and all to the Sensitive Three Ring Circus! Here in this corner… "This is Atticus Disney." …student wonder. Able to make a vanilla-chocolate mocha in under a minute! That's right! "He just moved here from Maryland." A minute! Don't try this at home, kiddos. "He'll be joining our English class." He writes essays on demand and jumps through hoops of fire! "All right. Atticus," Put your hands together… "please tell us a little bit about yourself." …for the main attraction!

"I'm Atticus," he informs his torn-up shoes. They are the same ones he wore two months ago. His father still couldn't afford new ones and his mother refuses to shop at Good Will. "I'm eighteen." Don't say it, a voice in his head whispers. He complies gently, staring fixedly at a dark spot on his right shoe. "I like to swim and I like coffee." The shoelaces are worn and frayed. "That's it."

"That's lovely," she coos. "All right! Go ahead and take your seat." She touches his arm and a small pang runs up it. He tells himself it's in his mind.

"You can sit here," a boy offers, a boy languorously filling in his desk with lanky wayward limbs and loose, torn clothes. His hair is a dirty blonde and the work of a lawn mower, his eyes dark but friendly. "I'm Jack," he offers, peering curiously at him across the aisle.

Atticus nods and replies, "Atticus." Two months ago, he would have talked under his breath with Jack, oozing the same raw energy. Now he busies himself with his backpack and hopes Jack won't make nice. He gets a pencil and spiral notebook and doodles as Mrs. Sensitive launches into her agenda for the day. They are reading Jane Eyre and he has to share a book with Jack as they listen to a tape recording of it.

Jack writes little notes to Atticus as the hour progresses.

What's Maryland like?

like here

Were you by the ocean? Did it snow a lot?

yeah

Did you have a girlfriend?

Atticus eats the note and pretends Mrs. Sensitive had noticed, but she is so enthralled with Jane's adventure that she wouldn't notice if Atticus took out a gun and shot the girl in front of him in the leg.

The bell rings soon after and he leaves quickly. Somehow, Jack catches up anyway, laughing.

"You're like a ninja!"

"I have to go to class."

"What class?"

"AP Calc," he says, though he is really heading to Ohio History, surely the most exciting classroom in the building.

"Oh. That's weird, because I'm taking that, too, and it's fifth hour." Jack knows he is lying, but Atticus doesn't care. He swerves in the middle of a group of people and disappears before Jack can reproach him. He hopes Jack will stop trying to talk to him.

When he steps into the classroom, his heart stops and he goes icy-cold everywhere except for his palms, which start to sweat. Brian is there, looking at him with his cold, judging eyes. The bulky boy makes a move, a shift of his hand, and Atticus winces. But then he is smiling, and Atticus realizes Brian is hundreds of miles away. He relaxes and feels ashamed.

He sits behind would-be Brian and buries his nose in his spiral notebook, warding off any conversation. Class begins and as Atticus stares at the back of would-be Brian's head, he remembers his mother's words last night.

"You're going to be fine."

"How do you know?"

"You have the ability to make people flock to you. This semester will be a breeze, and then you'll be gone."

"How do you know?"

"Mother's instinct. Trust me, everything will be fine."

Her voice had the sound of a confident mother reassuring her child, but her ever-sad eyes told a different story. When she saw him off that morning, she had been unable to hide her tears, and, in that moment, he wished with all his heart and soul that he could protect her the way she wasn't able to protect him.