Hey this is Zoicite23 and if you read the summary you would already know that this story is being written by three people: Suicunetobigaara, G and myself. This lovely first chapter is brought to you by the sweat and hard work of Suicunetobigaara herself.

I stared into space while tapping my lead pencil against the wooden desk. It was a hot summer afternoon and I was spending my last class of the day in Maths. Everyone was hot and irritated because of the weather.

The last room I was in, like many other classrooms in my school did not have air conditioning. Meaning during the last class of the day most of the students were either acting up, wagging, or like me, couldn't be fucked paying attention.

Thankfully I had a seat up the back near a window, occasionally a cool breeze sent air gushing into the classroom, cooling my face but would send my notes flying onto the ground. I gave up on picking them back up.

I glanced out the window to stare at the rest of the school. My school was called 'Stonehall High School' and parts of it seemed really old. The library was an old stone two-storey building and most of the classrooms were also made from stone.

Most of the buildings are two-storeys and the top floors are connected by an inter-web of passageways made from concrete. There were two new buildings, one which sported the English rooms and the other that housed the Art, Hospitality, Textiles, Design and Technology classes. In short my school had a mixture of old and new.

The hot weather was bothering the most studious of students, for they would stop making notes every once in a while either to fan themselves or just to stare into space. Personally I wished that the old classrooms would be knocked down to make way for the newer classrooms. The ones with air con. I kept my face turned to the window hoping another gust of wind would blow through so my face could be cooled, even if it would only be temporarily.

I didn't have many friends. I moved to this school in the middle of last year and didn't win many people over. It honestly never really fazed me. I wasn't outgoing and I thought of myself as nothing special. My name is Cody Burkett, my dad always wanted me to be an overachiever, to strive for the top so I could get a cushy office job and maybe become a multimillionaire.

I knew kids that were a lot smarter than me who could do that. I didn't have the brains or the skill to become what my dad expected of me. I wouldn't find it interesting anyway. Having no idea what job I wanted to do yet, I just wanted one that would interest me.

One that would keep me on my toes, where I would always learn new things. I just wasn't one-hundred percent sure there was a job like that for me, but I could always dream. The noise level increased and I glanced at the clock, it read two fifty.

That explained the noise, the other students must be getting more anxious to leave as the time came closer to the final bell. The teacher stopped writing his cryptic codes onto the white board and started marking the roll. Then I heard a guy behind me snicker.

"Why does the old fart take the roll at the end of the lesson? Wouldn't it be easier to do it at the beginning of the lesson?" I turned slightly to see the people who were talking.

"I know right, then we wouldn't be interrupted!" hissed Michael to the boy who had just spoken.

Michael was a stereotypical sports-freak, who had to assert his masculinity by bullying and tormenting others. He was very attractive to most girls and was known to be a rebel of sorts. He had green eyes, was muscular and tanned but I honestly didn't see how girls found the guy with his long purple hair tied into a ponytail, attractive.

I looked to the guy who had first spoken, his name was Dylan. Dylan wasn't so much sporty, but he was loud and overconfident. Dylan was a classic show-off who always tried to get with as many girls as he could, and as rumors had it the occasional guy.

Dylan's appearance like his personality stood out. He has dyed red hair and unusual amber eyes. He also has three distinctive scars on his cheek, which looked like he'd been scratched by a bear or something. He was never seen without wearing his red collar, which he wore to look cool and instead of school shorts he wore three-quarter camouflage pants.

I rolled my eyes at them, an action that was not missed by Dylan or Michael.

"What?" Dylan grunted. I turned back around to face him.

"Did you ever think that Mr Dickson wanted to take the roll at the end of the day, where you would be more cooperative?" I replied. "If he wasted time on the role-" I paused as the teacher called out my name. "Here sir!" I called to him as he made a note of marking my name off. I turned back to them and continued "-at the beginning of the day he would have to teach us what he taught us now ten minutes ago, and it wouldn't sink in as much".

I prided myself on my logic.

"Faggot!" Michael spat before turning to Dylan and beginning to talk about a different topic. I sighed as I turned away from them.

Just three more minutes until I get out of this death trap. When the bell finally rang I reached out to pick up the papers that flew off my desk. Just as I was about to grasp them, a black and red sneaker smashed down onto the papers.

I looked up to see Dylan's unforgiving face. He twisted his foot as an extra measure to make sure the papers were crumpled before turning to his own desk. He grabbed his things in a rush and stepped on my papers as he left the classroom.

Michael and some of his goons sneered and trampled on my papers. One of them knocked me as they walked past. I inwardly sighed; of course I had to annoy the most annoying and childish show-offs at school.

Once I was sure they left the room I retrieved my papers. I couldn't make out the notes I'd written on the paper and parts of it were torn. I sighed as I made an attempt to straighten them out and put them in my bag, making a mental note that idiots do not like it when they are proven wrong.

I picked up my bag and noticed a black object in my peripheral vision. I looked at the desk Dylan had been sitting at, a black glove was lying on top. Dylan mustn't have zipped up his bag when he left class today and the glove fell out.

The teacher coughed, and I realized I was the only one left in the classroom and he was waiting for me to leave so he could lock up. I quickly grabbed the glove, stuffed it in my bag and left the room. Once in the hallway I ran to the front gate.

I have a bad feeling about this. I couldn't spot Dylan among the people at the bus stop. I frowned; his parents must have picked him up. I started walking home, wondering if I told Dylan I had his glove he might think I stole it. The walk home didn't take long and I was soon in my tiny, clustered room holding the glove in my hand.

My old computer which sat on my desk in the corner was loading. I planned to contact Dylan via my rarely used Facebook account to tell him of his missing object. Now that I looked at the glove more closely I saw it was very large and the fabric was heavy and sturdy. Why would Dylan have such a weird glove as a possession?

My computer finally loaded and it took me ten minutes pondering how to write my message. I will admit I was a bit wary considering how today's events went about, but I decided to keep it short and simple. No point in making the hole I dug for myself bigger.

'Hi this is Cody from your Maths class, you left your glove behind today and I decided to keep it safe for you. When do you want it back?'

This was the best I was going to get so I sent the message. Since he wasn't my 'friend' on that site I had no idea if he was online or not. It could take hours for him to reply. My computer beeped almost instantly, I stared at it blankly.

I didn't have many friends on the site, so did Dylan reply already? I looked at the message, it was from Dylan.

It read: 'really? I have no fucking clue where I dropped that thanks dude I'll get it from you tomoz in maths'.

Clearly this guy had no clue. I replied.

'We don't have maths tomorrow. Want to meet up so you can get your glove?'.

Once again I got a fast reply.

'sure mate, meet u behind the library' I frowned at the reply. The bushy area behind the library was well known for being a make-out spot and as a place where people go to fight. Behind the large stone building no one could see or hear you, and of course no student is allowed there.

I typed: 'That area is out-of-bounds, can't we meet up on the oval or something?'

Maybe it would ruin his reputation to be seen with me? I looked at the page and noticed that I had a '1' next to the people symbol.

When I clicked on it, it revealed that Dylan requested to be my friend. Deciding not to brush him off I accepted his request. No harm done right? My computer beeped again and I checked my message.

'it will be fine dude, I don't want people asking questions k? See you there at the big lunch, gtg'.

I sighed as he went off-line. Looks like I have to visit him there. I looked at the strange, overly large black glove once more.

"Definitely not human." I decided out loud. Maybe one of my friends from a different class could give me more insight on this mysterious piece of clothing.

Definitely not human? We're heading into the supernatural aspect of our story soon. Next chapter is mine. Review if you're interested in reading more!