NOTE: This is a new WIP. It popped into my head one day...I'd appreciate feedback.

PAGEBREAK, STORY BELOW

On the bus in high school, you don't always get your own seat. Sometimes, like on my bus, there are just too many people, so, you get a seat buddy. A seat buddy could be your best friend, or sometimes not. Often you know them, and never do you hate them. You may talk or not, depending if any other friends sit near you. And, if on a certain day, your seat buddy misses the bus, you get it to yourself, because everyone knows where they sit. Never does someone else sit there. Especially the new guy, who is about as dorky as one can get.

My first impression actually wasn't "dork", but "scene kid". His hair was dark brown, messy, and needing a cut. He was wearing an argyle vest-sweater . . . thing, with a collared shirt underneath. He had thick-rimmed glasses and formed-to-the-leg jeans, but not quite drainpipes. I didn't see his shoes, but I'd make a bet on them being flat, checkered Vans or something similar. The adding factor to label him "dork" was the trumpet case sitting beside his overly large backpack.

And, most importantly, he didn't know the unwritten rule; new kids sit with new kids. If there are no other such new kids, don't sit with me.

"Me" in this case, means me, Aileen. My seat buddy, Carly, had mono, so she hadn't been on in a while, and I was enjoying the space.

"Me" also means only me. Most other people enjoy a new face beside them. I don't. Once, one of the girl-jocks, a basketball player, sat down beside me. Immediately her friend advised against it, so she moved. People know me for my temper, and my glares. I stand Carly because Carly listens to good music, and doesn't talk when I'm obviously not paying attention. The seat itself, three up from the back, was opportune; it came with an update on the sports events I never attended, and on lives of my classmates. Also, there is less jostling when hitting bumps while still sitting in the senior section (behind the back wheel).

Did I mention this kid was tall? Being rather short, personally, I fit into small spaces, but only with other small people. This guy was borderline gangly, and nearly six feet tall. His legs backpack and trumpet case took up nearly all the space, forcing me to put my own bags onto my lap and squish up against the window.

"Do you mind?" I glared my best. He shifted a bit, but made no move to leave.

"What?" He blinked at me, apparently still asleep. Or lost.

"This is my seat, buddy. Scram."

"I don't see your name on it."

Oh, witty, was he? I could be witty, too. "I've heard better comebacks from a turkey sandwich. Get lost."

"I like this actually. I'll stay here." He made a settling motion with his body.

I rolled my eyes and turned up the volume on my MP3 player. Once at the top, I flipped to the loudest band I had, Kittie, hoping to get him to go away because of the volume.

After staring out the window for a few minutes, I detected sound over my music, and looked to see his mouth moving. I turned back to the window, hoping he would shut up. That's when he started tapping me.

I ripped out the earphone facing him. "What the hell do you want?" I growled.

"What are you listening to?" I had to give the guy credit that he didn't flinch.

I graced him with an answer, "Kittie."

"Some chick band then? Kind of weak, I say. I would have thought KoRn, at least," he sniffed almost disapprovingly.

I growled again, and nearly answered. As I opened my mouth, I suddenly knew what he was doing. He was trying to provoke me, to get me to talk. Well, I wasn't playing that game. I put my earphone back in and returned to my window, hissing at him for good measure.

We arrived at school shortly thereafter, and I followed the new kid off the bus and booked it to my locker.