Katarina was going to be late.

For any other student at Raresyde High, this wouldn't have really been a problem, but Katarina Suarez was never late. Ever.

She stretched her legs as far as they would go with every step, took the stairs three at a time, and agilely weaved in and out of the chattering freshmen crowding the hallways. Finally, her classroom came into view; Room 117-- AP Biology. Practically leaping the last few yards, she crossed through the doorway just as the bell rang.

Sighing with relief, she collapsed into her desk chair, panting and sweating. She felt like she’d just come from gym class--including the feeling of needing more deodorant.

Seconds later, her teacher lumbered in; a large, round, laid-back old man that had a thing for Hawaiian shirts, going by the name of Mr. Harry Barris. At least, that’s what his students called him when he wasn't listening. His full name rolled off the tongue better than just "Mr. Barris". Katarina wasn't sure when exactly that tradition had begun--she'd been hearing the name said like that since she had been a freshman, and she assumed it had started long before then. Mr. Harry Barris was, undoubtedly, one of the most well-liked and celebrated teachers in the school, especially among the honors students that had his classes. In Katarina's sophomore year, the seniors at the time had begun the tradition of grouping together and dressing in matching Hawaiian shirts on the Spirit Week day themed "Twin Day". That first year had seen about thirty miniature Harry Barrises walking the halls, and the number had only grown since.

However, why he was so famous was a bit of a mystery. Maybe it was the vibrant Hawaiian shirts he wore that added some happiness the windowless, depressing atmosphere of the school. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to know absolutely everything--there had yet to be a documented case of Harry Barris being asked a question that he did not know the answer to. Maybe it was his habit of closing his eyes and swaying back and forth while he talked to the class. And maybe it was just his amazingly simple but entertaining name. No one really knew.

As Katarina caught her breath, Mr. Harry Barris plopped down behind his desk to take attendance. He didn't really look at his students as he clicked checks next to their names on the computerized attendance sheet. He knew who would be there and who wouldn’t. He simply glanced at his class to double check before he clicked the "submit" button. Roll taken, he stood and walked to the ancient overheard projector in the front of the room. Switching it on, he fiddled with the machine for a moment and slapped on his usual acetate sheet of notes, handwritten in black marker.

It wasn't that Mr. Barris was behind the times on technology--in fact he probably understood, better than most teachers, the new computers, systems, and "Smart Boards" that the school had begun to install a few years ago. In fact, he utilized them on a numerous occasions. When it came to his notes, however, he seemed to simply prefer the dated overhead and his scribbled sheets of notes about all things biological. Just another Harry Barris quirk, the students reasoned. As he was aligning the acetate sheet, the classroom door creaked open.

The class all looked up from locating a clean page in their notebooks to watch a boy that none of them had ever seen before slip into the classroom. Mr. Barris turned to him, arching an eyebrow expectantly. "Um, hi," the boy said awkwardly. "I'm, uh, I'm new. Got lost trying to find the classroom. Sorry I'm late."

Harry Barris stared at the boy a moment longer, then nodded. "That's right. They did put a new name on my roster today," he said eventually. "Take a seat wherever you can find one, Mr. Foster. And I hope you have a notebook."

The boy nodded, and sat in an open desk two seats in front of and one seat to the right of Katarina. He pulled out a notebook and a pen, and began writing. The class exchanged puzzled glances, then collectively shrugged and resumed copying down the notes.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of Katarina's day proceeded without any more near-late scares. The cause of the original one--an overly talkative English teacher who did not hear the bell ring and refused to believe that it had until the next class began filing into the room--did not repeat itself. Katarina reasoned that this was because she only had English once per day.

As the end-of-day bell chimed (and, thankfully, was heard by her calculus teacher), Katarina exited her classroom and headed for the buses, stopping at her locker on the way. She entered the combination for her lock with practiced speed, and opened the locker door to reveal her meticulously organized pile of books, and separate but just as organized stack of notebooks. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was an insufferable neat freak--Katarina Suarez may have been the most organized teenager on the face of the planet. Even her parents, both accomplished doctors, found it slightly odd. Katarina, however, had long since decided that knowing exactly where everything she owned was at any given time made her life significantly easier and more streamlined, and left her with more time to study. Studying, naturally, took up the majority of her free time--she needed to keep her straight A's in order. She figured she had a good shot at becoming valedictorian upon her graduation at the end of the year. In fact, she had a very good shot--and she wanted to keep it.

Selecting the textbooks and notebooks she needed for homework, Katarina opened her backpack and deposited them inside. Satisfied that she had everything, she walked out the door and to her waiting bus.

Upon boarding the large yellow school bus, she made her way to her usual seat--number eight--to sit down. However, she stopped dead upon finding it already occupied. The kid from her biology class, the new one, was sitting there, staring out the window. Her window.

Oh no. No no no. This would not do. Not at all. On Raresyde High's bus number ten, there was an order. No one knew how or when the order had been established, but it was absolute. At the beginning of the year, seniors such as Katarina got first dibs on seats. Then came the juniors, then the sophomores, and the freshmen were left with whatever remained. Once you had your seat, you did not move. It wasn't any kind of directive from the bus driver--a kind, elderly man going by the name of Red--it was just the way things were. Failure to sit in one's own seat had a tendency to result in beatings from the football players in the back of the bus. Katarina supposed it was all very juvenile, but the system did work to defuse any potential seating battles before they had a chance to happen.

Unless, of course, there was a new kid. Which there was. And he was in her seat. So, she addressed the issue as delicately as she knew how.

"You're in my seat."

The boy looked up at her. Sandy blonde hair; long in front and shorter in the back. Pale skin. Freckles. Tired brown eyes with purplish bags under them. Great, so he's either an insomniac or a drug addict, she thought.

"That's not really my problem, is it?" he replied calmly.

Katarina quickly decided that she did not like this one. "It will be once everyone's fighting over the seating. Things here have an order, new kid."

He raised an eyebrow. "Look, this was the only open seat when I got here. Didn't have much of a choice."

"I don't care," Katarina spat. "Just move."

The boy stared emotionlessly up at her for a few seconds. "Okay," he said eventually. "Fine, I'll move." With that, he picked up his backpack, set it between his feet, and slid over against the window. "See? Plenty of room for you."

Katarina opened her mouth to protest, but the bus suddenly jerked forward, almost sending her toppling to the ground. Righting herself and pushing her glasses back up her nose, she fell heavily into the seat beside the new kid.

They rode home in silence.