We are finishing our cigarettes by the time we make it to Jade's. Lucas and her are standing out on the porch, laughing about something. They start down the walkway when they notice us, feet splashing in the melting slush.

"Good Morning!" Jade practically shouts, ever the sunshine one. 

She's bouncing with excitement, her vibrant red hair swinging. Jade's constantly changing her hair, almost as much as she changes boyfriends. She says it's what you do when you suffer a traumatic break up, but I feel like a sane person would just stop dating. I don't have any room to talk, my experience being limited. Limited, as in completely nonexistent.

"Are you excited?! Only one semester left!" She almost trips into Lucas.

"Oh yeah," he says dryly, shoving her away. "Can't you see we're so overjoyed we can hardly stand it."

Jade looks at our solemn expressions before smiling wider. She's naturally a bubbly person, and I can't remember ever seeing her sad.

"You guy's are always so pessimistic! It's going to be great. We're on the home stretch!" She starts leading the way to school.

My nerves increase at the sight of the ugly, gray building looming on the horizon. I want to turn around and go home, but unfortunately with the mood dad's in that option is equally shit. They keep babbling, about a new movie, while making our slow progression. 

My feet are heavy, and it takes effort to keep my breathing steady. Counting to ten isn't doing the trick as we cross the parking lot, joining the herd of last minute arrivals.

We manage to make it inside just as the first bell rings, and hurry to our lockers. We have hardly anytime throughout the day together, but Emma's locker is close to mine, only one in between. Lucas and Jade wave before heading a hallway over to find theirs. I grab a ratty notebook and pencil out of my bag before shoving it in my locker. Our school isn't very large, I'm able to stop by my locker in between most classes. I grab my textbook and notebook for first period, then slam the door shut.

Students rush past shouting, excited to see each other after only two weeks apart. How can they be so happy in this shit hole?

"You ready for this?" Emma shoots me a quick smile while she empties things into her overflowing locker. 

Every year she hangs up posters and decorates, but there's no point for me to do that. They already too small without the extra clutter, and my lovely classmates have a habit of sticking things in it that don't belong. 

I smile back at her, but must be unsuccessful because she laughs.

"It will be fine. Just ignore everyone, like I do. People suck."

"Great pep talk." I roll my eyes. Even though she drives me nuts, I still wish we had more classes together. 

"Anytime sweetheart!" She jokes, sounding like her mother. 

She'd probably smack me if I told her that, but it's tempting. I don't have a chance to before the warning bell rings, hearding us along to our first hour of torture.

I say my sad goodbye and head down the hall to calculus. Math at 8 am? Who's sadistic idea was this? I hurry into the classroom while scanning for an empty seat, and thankfully the back row is still mostly vacant. I rush towards it before realizing who is in my path.

Kylie and Lisa sit with their desks angled towards each other, slightly blocking the isle, as they talk loudly about their holidays. Like anyone cares. I almost groan because I had forgotten they were in this class. Fuck.

I look for an alternative route and make it to a seat, thankfully they continue gabbing on and on. I'm glad I was able to go unnoticed, at least for now. We used to be friends back in elementary, before I became too uncool to socialize with. Staring at the back of their pretty heads and feeling shriveled inside, I try to make myself smaller so no one will see me. I sit my aging textbook down and try to breathe, placing my hands flat on the scarred desktop. 

The seats to either side of me stay empty as the room starts to fill, but then a girl rushes in before the bell and snags the seat to my right. It takes effort to not resent her. She immediately pulls out her phone and starts texting, so this helps somewhat. I remember her from class last semester. Is her name Brittany? Tiffany? 

Not that it matters. Rule number one, don't talk to anyone.

Ms. Smith clears her throat, trying to settle everyone down to start attendance. She says my name, I mumble to make my presence known. Apparently, she doesn't hear me because she looks up to scan the room for me. She finally spots me, nods and marks the sheet. Once attendance is finished, she starts to tell us the chapter we will be continuing on, but the door flies open. Everyone turns in unison to inspect the intruder.

In struts a girl I don't recognize. Our school isn't as tiny as some of the surrounding areas, but not large enough that you don't know practically everyone. I would definitely remember her. She has short, spiky hair, blonde with some faded red pieces. She's wearing a black shirt that looks like it went through a shredder over a tank top. 

Her jeans are ripped, with boots that look practically new. The dark leather shines while she thuds across the room and metal rings glint on her fingers when she hands Ms. Smith a paper. She reads it before gesturing for the newcomer to find an empty seat. The girl looks around, and she better not take the chair on my other side. 

Her gaze passes over me, and my neck hurts when I force my head down. I hate awkward eye contact. Please don't sit by me. Don't sit by me. It takes her a moment to decide, but she heads my direction. Fuck. 

Whispers fly across the room as everyone's eyes are on the new arrival. Not looking at anyone, she sits and starts scribbling in her notebook. On the brightside, at least the low voices aren't talking about me. Still, I hate being in such close proximity to the subject. My hands are sweating and I can feel my skin heating up, probably starting to turn red. Strange.

My stupid body always reacts this way when I'm being looked at. My curly hair grazes the desk when I tilt my head down, using it as a shield. I stare intently at my textbook, but don't listen to the unintelligible words droning out of Ms. Smith's mouth. Anything to keep from looking at my classmates. 

Or staring at her.