High school is terrifying.

I have faced deadly mafia bosses who have wanted to kill me. I have been shot at. I have been thrown from a motorcycle.

That I can handle.

School? The word gives me shivers.

As soon as I enter the school-no, the motherfreaking yellow school bus, I experience the perks of being a social pariah.

Apparently, they didn't really dig the whole "flannel on flannel" style that I was rocking. Perhaps the chihuahua was just a bit too much? I know, who in the right mind could be as gorgeous as me in her wig and glasses?

Score one for the Ricca brothers.

I make a mental note to walk to school next time. It's a couple miles, but I could use the exercise.

I take a deep breath before stepping onto the bus. The bus driver grunts and motions for me to hurry up. I rush in and face the students. It's loud; it's annoying.

The bus is half filled; everyone has their designated little seat they claimed in the beginning of the year. Almost all the seats have one person, but they must be fat since they need the whole seat for two. Each student eyes me as I get onto the bus.

Well, the students stop talking first. They stare in shock at my beautifulness. Bow down, you peasants!

I gulp as I realize I just beat the first level of high school: finding a bus seat. Nobody will let me sit; it's their social status they are risking. Who the hell wants to sit next to the new weirdo with orange hair and awful fashion sense?

Not me either. Still, it hurts to see not a single student is nice enough to let me sit. There must be one kind soul out there!

Or not.

As I walk down the narrow path in the bus, the first half remain still. Some even move their backpacks to their side to make no room for me.

I get to the very back of the bus. There's nobody sitting in the last seat. I look around, always suspicious of anything good.

I sit.

Some of them gasp in shock. Some stare with a mixture of awe and fear.

Now, who's seat is this? A bully? A popular? A ghost?

What do I care?

I plug in my earphones and look outside the window.

As I jam to my current favorite song, "I Got You" (feat. Jax Jones) by Duke Damont, I try to appear as nonchalant as possible. It's quite obvious that the students around me are trying their best not to stare as they talk amongst each other. Nevertheless, some are still outright staring.

I observe the students around me. There's a mixture of cliques. We have the quiet, studious students in the very front. Then, there's the loud ones in the back near me. I try to memorize the names and faces of each person on the bus, categorizing their personality to see if they had a chance of being a spy.

Then again, they could all be spies. I'm sure eventually I'll be seeked out on some way or form.

The bus couldn't have taken longer. Soon, I find myself alone, standing by my seat. Everyone rushes off as soon as we arrive.

"Are you going to get off or not?" The bus driver gives me stink-eye. Someone sure hates her job.

"Yeah," I roll my eyes. As I exit the bus, I take off my wig. Sorry, but the wig is just too hideous for my liking. Plus, I have a feeling my brothers only included it as a joke.

I take out all my hair clips and hair cap. Then, I run my hand through my hair to let it out. My hair has grown a bit too long for my liking, coming to my waist. It had taken way too long to dye it. This morning I had done a decent job of dyeing my hair a dark maroon and cutting bangs that barely covered my eyes.

I look down at the bus driver, who sits there wide-eyed as she gapes at me.

"Thanks for the bus ride." I nod and throw the wig at her. She catches it instinctively and continues to blink unintelligently. It's just a wig; I don't know why she's freaking out.

I stretch my arms and tighten my backpack straps. School time!

I step out of the bus. This time, there is not that many students watching me. They are all either too tired or too distracted to care as they rush to their first class.

I dig into my pockets and search for my class schedule.

Aha! I find a crumpled, torn paper. Oops...

I squint at the paper and feel irritated. This is a scratch paper with my classes poorly written on it. My brothers didn't give me my actual class schedule.

I slowly take deep breaths to calm myself. They wrote the teacher and room number. They just so happened to forget to put the subject. Oh, this is so cruel.

I take out my phone and glance at the school map. First period with Mr. Evans.

***** I enter the class late.

"Ah. You must be Shay Ricca!" Mr. Evans looks up from his desk at me. He's middle-aged with graying hair, but he has a bounce to his step. His personality right from the start is friendly.

"I'm Mr. Evans!" He ambles toward me, reaching out to shake my hand. I raise my eyebrow at his enthusiasm.

"I know you new high school kids probably think it is annoying to introduce yourself, so I guess it's optional if you want to have an introduction." He says.

"No thanks." I shake my head.

"How about something short?" He urges.

"I'm a new student. My name is Shay Ricca." I nod to him and the students. They are all staring at me as usual. I think that intro was good enough. It's not their business to know every damn thing about me.

Obviously, I'm just a tad ticked off that I'm in school again. Also, that I'm in a disguise. Lastly, my whole family are dipshits.

"Where do I sit, Mr. Evans?" I turn back around and ask him.

"Usually, it's an open seating arrangement. However, we only have one seat available in the back." He points to the last row. Perfect.

"Welcome to Computer Science AP." Mr. Evans beams. "Since you're a new student, I must tell you that I have a student teacher with us for this semester. He's quite unique since he's some what of a child prodigy. I just sent him out to grab an extra computer for you!"

Three things come to mind: 1) I have never taken Computer Science in my life. I cannot handle an Advanced class. 2) The students in this class look like geniuses, though they are mostly girls. Go girl power. 3) If my first class is like this, then what other classes am I signed up for too?

"Here he is," Mr. Evan points to a guy who has just entered the room. If I wasn't sitting in my seat already, my knees would have given out in shock. I recognize the student teacher. He has yet to notice me.

"Mr. Grayson, we have a new student." Mr Evans motions in my direction. I sink deep into my chair. I consider running but I realize I won't avoid him forever. "Her name is Shay Ricca. She has a lot to catch up so you're probably going to guide her a bit. Will you pass the computer to her?"

I briefly wonder if he recognizes me. My name should give him enough reason to. However, my appearance is a huge distraction.

He places the computer on my desk stiffly before going back to the front. There is no eye contact, no anything. He acts professional and shows nothing. I sink further into my desk, not sure if this was good or not.

Skyler Grayson is my student teacher. How and why? Most importantly, how? He is a genius computer geek. I know that. However, I would have ever taken him to be a teacher, let alone a high school teacher. Is that even legal?

The class is agonizingly long as Sky teaches the class. I zone out as soon as his mouth opened. Well, his words sound like a foreign language.

I get the basic stuff. I learned it from Sky. Huh I guess he always was a decent teacher if he got me to understand this computer talk nonsense.

I watch as he teaches. At first, he is stiff and cold. I think it may because of my presence. However, as he continues, his mind focuses on the lesson rather than me. Once he forgets I exist, he's actually not bad at all. The Sky I have met is angry and dark. This Sky has a light in his eyes as he teaches with a similar enthusiasm to Mr. Evans. He truly likes teaching, and he has a smooth, confident style that creates a relaxing learning atmosphere. When they get to class discussions, Sky tries to help everyone as best as he can.

I'm happily surprised.

"Are you doing alright?" Mr. Evans comes arond my desk.

"I'm fine," I nod.

"With the computer I mean." He gestures to my closed computer.

"Oh. Yeah." I nod once more.

"Mr. Grayson." Mr. Evans calls him over.

"Wait!" I interrupt him. "I'm fine. Really. He doesn't need to come over."

Sky comes over.

"Why don't you help Miss Shay?" Mr. Evans pats Sky's back before leaving.

"It'd be easier if you turned on your computer." Sky sits besides me.

"No shit Sherlock," I retort.

"Now, open up that program and..." He begins to instruct.

"Since when were you a teacher?" I ask him.

"Since I needed money." He replies curtly before diverting his attention to my computer.

"Teachers don't get paid much." I say. "Especially student teachers."

"Well, who said I'm only a student-teacher?" He rolls his eyes.

"I-"

"Look. I'm just here to teach. You're my student, so I'm teaching you." He grunts.

"Salty. I deserve that, but Sky you know I never had any ill intentions. I am and always will be the Shay you've always known and loved." I sigh. It gets frustrating as he refuses to even look at me. "Will you at least acknowledge my presence?"

"I'm replying. Is that enough attention, princess?" He sneers.

"I get it. I do. Eventually, I hope you forgive me." I sigh once more, trying to hold back some tears. Even though I act as tough as nails, I'm still sensitive. I am only so hardened because of my past. Still, I assume I feel and think like a normal teenage girl.

He doesn't say anything.

"Here. We will talk later, okay?" He breaks the silence.

"Okay." I smile.

"That doesn't mean I forgive you."

"Okay." I frown.

We get silent.

The bell rings soon, saving us from the uncomfortable silence. I rush outside. I don't pay much heed to my direction, so it is not a surprise as I crash right into someone. I fall onto my butt unflatteringly. A few people snicker to the side. Otherwise, there's no jeers or taunts.

It's weird not being the butt of people's joke. I guess it may be because of the huge school and all.

"Sorry!" I get up and dust myself off. Papers and books are strewn all over the place. Those must be the person's I ran into. I gather everything and hand it to the person without bothering to look at him. I'm actually going to be late again. My next class is on opposite sides of the school.

"Thanks," he shouts as I rush down the hallway. I'm long gone by then.

****** "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit....shit!" I say as I search through my backpack. I dump everything out onto my desk.

I can't find my ID, and it isn't my school ID (which I need to get soon). No, it's my actual ID with my face without a disguise. It's my driver's license which is in my wallet. I can't find my wallet. I swear I had it in my hand when I left class.

F**k, I had it in my hand when I left class.

That's not good.

"AUGH!" I want to flip over the desk as I realize I have no idea who I ran into.

I search through my papers, hoping I somehow grabbed one of his belongings.

"Aha!" I snatch onto a notebook. It looks more like a sketchbook.

"Ahem," the teacher clears her throat. "Shay, do I have to ask you to leave the room on your first day?"

"Sorry Miss Romero. I'll behave." I reply. This class isn't as bad. It's Psychology, which I have already taken before.

I glance back down at the sketchbook. It's a black leather notebook that is worn at the edges with a lot of papers stuffed inside. I open it up and glance at the top corner: Jay Lewis.

That must be the guy I ran into!

I flip some more pages. Initially, I thought it was just sketches. However, there's more than that. The pages are filled with beautiful cursive and multiple sketches. There are a lot of architectural drawings and random sketches of people. I'm impressed with the level of artwork in the book. I squint at the writing. Some of them are journal entries I think. I stop reading as soon as I see the word "Journal." People have their own right to privacy.

When the class ends, I dial my cell phone and call Dante. He should understand. He picks up on the first ring.

"This is Dante."

"Someone might have found out my real identity."

"It's only been a couple hours." Dante grumbles.

"Ha...ha?" I laugh weakly.

"How'd you..." He sighs. "Who found out?"

"Some dude named Jay Lewis." I say.

"Hey! You! Vivianna!" I turn around sharply at my name. Glancing around, I let out a small breath as there are a lot of students around, their voices drowning out each other's voices. I'm glad I have sharp hearing still. A tall jock waves his hand at me. I wait as he gets nearer.

"He's coming this way actually." I say.

"Get him alone or something." Dante says before hanging up.

I stare at the phone in disbelief. Such help.

"You're the girl I bumped into this morning right?" He stands a foot taller with broad shoulders and big build. I'm surprised that he's a football player, seen by his sweatshirt. He looks happa, and he's actually kind of hot.

I snap back into reality. Wow, a couple years without paying attention to boys has gotten me drilling over the first attractive male I spot.

"I have your wallet." He takes out my black, leather wallet that could easily be mistaken as his notebook since they are the same size. My wallet is fat and big.

"Thanks," I grin, but I realize he must have looked in it to see the owner. I need to get him alone.

"Did you happen to see a black leather notebook by any chance?" He asks, looking rather shy.

"I don't know. I have to check. I put some of my stuff into my locker after we collided." I lie.

"Oh, I'll go with you to your locker then if you don't mind."

"It's fine." I nod. We walk side by side in silence, neither one of us knowing what to say.

As we approach my locker, I glance at the door located next to my locker. I casually try the handle when Jay looks the other way. It's opened. With one motion, I grab Jay by the sleeve and force him into the room with me.

"Whoa! Hey!" He says in shock.

"I UH..." I panic before I clonk him on his head with my fist, which hurts really bad from it.

"Ow, ow, ow," I wince and shake my fingers out. I text Dante my location. Then, I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

"Is he dead?" Dante shows up in front of me and shakes his head.

"No, he's very much alive."

"Bummer."

I stare at him.

"Joking! Take a joke!" He raises his hands.

"Well, what are you going to do with him?" I ask.

"I don't know. I was just going to see who he was."

"Okay..." I stare at him once more.

"You go to class, and I'll deal with him. Don't worry, he will stay alive."

"I trust you." I put Jay's sketchbook into his sweatshirt pocket before leaving.

------- A/N Late update I know. I'm sorry):

This is a filler, but don't worry(: I've got some fun stuff planned heh.

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