2 Chapter 1: Red Lunch Hour

It's almost too late for school, actually. School is so annoying. They make you sit in a couple of slightly different rooms for hours until they let you go home and grade you on how productive you are.

It's a waste of time, and, yet, I'm running out of the front door with a piece of toast in my mouth like some kind of anime girl.

Why?.... Because I hate detention, and if I'm late again, I get another one for being tardy. It's so dumb, but the bus leaves at 7 am, and it was 6:45 the last time I checked my watch.

At least the leaves on the ground in the morning are pretty. I hurriedly recheck my watch. It's 6:50. I have enough time to walk from here. The bus stop is a 5-minute walk away, and I have 10 minutes left to get there.

I stop at the, well, the bus stop and take in the scenery: concrete in every direction with grass in-between that and more concrete. Then you have these significant concrete structures people like to call "houses." It's revolutionary, really, the mass of suburbia that we call a "neighborhood."

"Luke! Hey Luke!" a familiar voice calls.

"What's up, man," I say to Nick,

"Nu. . . nothing much," he gasps

"You really ran all the way here, didn't you."

"You know me, always running,"

"How was the game last night?"

He shifts slightly away from me

"It was ok" he states sheepishly,

"So, you lost then?" I ask,

"Complete Team Wipe,"

"So, what happened? You guys were on a roll when I left."

"They counter-picked when we weren't expecting it," Nick states as if reading off notes,

"Sucks to suck,"

The yellow metal deathtrap leading to the prison pulls up to the stop, and we enter. As I reach the inside of the bus, all the seats are taken except for one next to this really sweaty dude. The A/C is out again. Great. Fifteen minutes of pure unadulterated heat and no way to escape. Time to put on the earbuds and ignore the situation, I guess.

I arrive at school and let the monotony of it wash over me as I zone out and wait for lunch to roll around. I hear something about some triangle's hypotenuse and some language I'm never going to remember how to talk in.

I hear a bell. The best bell. The lunch bell. I rush down the hall as fast as I can without bumping into anyone or looking dumb. I see a familiar brown-headed gamer a little bit ahead of me.

"Yo, Nick!" I call

"Hey, Luke," he replies despondently.

"What's wrong?"

"I failed my English test. . ."

"That sucks; why are you so down about it, though?" I poke, nosily

"My parents are going to kill me,"

Then a girl glided into view. She seemed nice until she bumped into me. Now, she's clumsy.

"Help me pick all this up, please," she asked nicely

Now though, now shes an arse, and I won't stand for it.

"How about... no"

"Why not?" she questioned

"You bumped into me"

Why did I say that? I was the one that bumped into her.

Right, I said that because she asked me to help her, like an asshole too.

I started to get up when I noticed she stuck a middle finger up right at me. Fine if that's the way you want it. I stuck two middle fingers up at her.

"Fight! Fight!" yells the now gathering crowd just noticing the brewing hostility.

I see red.