There definitely was a party celebrated over the floor of Bart's room. Stuff and things casually danced atop the dark, soft cushiony wooled floor beneath a streak of peeking sunlight between the curtains where the birds sung a mellow tune. The organiser of the party made quick announcement of the time where the objects became frozen and still as a repetitive alarm bell silenced the singing birds and replaced it with a wistful groan and rustling bedsheets. It continued to buzz itself away until finally... An outstretched arm reached for the clock and calmed the clock down before putting it back sloppily atop the night stand adjacent. Face of a boy who knew it was way past his bed time but stayed up cause he didn't want to sleep. Something in his eyes, cleared it away with a quick brush of his fingers. Time to get off his and get ready for the worst thing ever.

Highschool.

The positioned himself to the side of his bed, removing the bedsheet that had once cradled his warm and dreamy rest and provided himself with the willpower of standing up and deal with life... Half-asleep. "A cold shower will do." He said upon himself and so forth he stood up and shambled atop of the rubbish and out of his room. "Goo.... *yawns* ... d morning..." The voice drifted into the silence. He managed to successfully arrive at the bathroom unhindered. He was now imprisoned inside the frame of the shower with his hand below the shower head and turned the Cold water knob firmly. As the breath of cold water chilled and pierced his hand, his reflexes pulled his hand away "Ack! Cold!" His other hand turned the hot water knob. "Guess I'll just have a lukewarm shower."

Once the woes of shower was over, he prepared his new set of contact lenses and began putting them on. At first it was clumsy-ly. Almost as though it didn't want to fit his eye. It was that he was a bit nervous putting them on. Eventually, he got it. Returned to his room-- Lights on to reveal where the party had taken place and walked through the things and stuff towards a wardrobe connected to the wall and opened it. His new contact lenses allowed him to identify his uniform efficiently. Removed them fro mthe wardrobe and laid them out on his messy bed. A sturdy desk with a computer stood opposite to the bed and he held onto a tube-like object from its surface and sprayed his body with an anti perspirant spray before proceeding to undo the buttons of his uniform and attempt to sleeve his arm through the shirt and wear his maroon pants. Yep, it was clearly the nerdy look at first... Shirt tucked in and pants that looked a bit baggy for him. He wished it was less relaxed and more form-fitting as well as comfortable. He loosened a bit of his shirt so that it didn't look so nerdy. His uniform came with a bloody tie. Damn it. He wished he knew how to tie his own tie but he was tied in a knot over this issue. He pocketed the tie and grabbed his digivice. A picture of Azulongmon and Bart appeared on the screen, refuelling him back with reminscence of the past they've travelled together and their eventual separation from one another. He felt saddened that everything had to come to normal for some reason. Perhaps adventuring was his calling rather than smarts?

And thus forth was the uniform. Except the tie. He quickly launched himself downstairs to greet his family and eat a hearty breakfast. "Behave yourself now. Holiday's over. Be serious in class." His mother commented as he ate and nodded with a mouthful of eggs and sausages. "Now hurry to the car once you're ready. New day is awaiting you and I'll ensure that you're not late!" She pressed on forward while Bart continued to devour his meal waiting for his father to show. A few seconds later, here he comes dressed just as elegantly.

"Dad! Could you teach me again how to do the double windsor again?" Eyes making contact with his father as he sat down by the table.

"Sure Bart. Finish your breakfast first and I'll show you when I'm ready." Bart followed it with a nod, thus continuing his progress at eating his breakfast.

Ten minutes later, Bart and his father was in the master bedroom as his father taught him the double windsor knot by the mirror with Bart closely following behind him. Since he did this before, following the previous patterns felt natural. "There you go. Double windsor. Looking sharp, junior!" Thus forth the ultimate nerd was complete. He was just missing the glasses which was hidden in his bag. "Go give'em hell at school."

Thus forth at morn, he arriveth into the College, aptly named Saints College Preparatory School written obviously by the entrance wall. The persons in the car were listening to the music played by the radio interrupted by the braking of Bart's car as they reached the point of no return. It was also a point of which students gain their first impressions on. "Mum loves you Bart! C'mere!" She kissed Bart's forehead and unlocked the door and Bart promptly undid his seatbelt and responded.

"Love you too mum. See you back on three." Into the wild, wild west. He pushed the door open and exited the car as other students began to look at each other and whisper. Bart didn't care. He barged on forward towards the college with unwavering will.

ERROR CHECKING (ChK2 (A:))



Black bristles ran through Ryan’s dark hair, combing her hair smoothly and quickly taming her bangs, brushed over her pale forehead. With a twist of her wrist, the handle of the brush turned, and the bristles gently moved her hair upwards against her spare hand. Thin fingers fanned open and clasped her straight, thick strands, and in a sudden and habitual movement, her long hair was tied into a neat ponytail. Her hazel eyes skimmed her reflection in the mirror for errors. However, before she moved her fingers to straighten the white collar on her school uniform and run a swift, smoothing hand over her hair, a complacent attitude of annoyance smugly tugged her lip downwards.

The first day of school was always the worst day of a new school year, and if she did not already feel like a fish out of water with her own appearance, the newly acquired knowledge of the Digital World was not going to provide her anymore comfort. Whatever.. A small huff puffed from her chest. What time was it? Her wrist propped upwards, and her eyes scanned the face of her watch. She was running late, and as much as she wanted to grunt and complain, her mind forced something more collective than the pout her reflection gave her just moments earlier.

“Arianna, Sweetheart, your sister is waiting for you!”

Ryan relaxed her wrist, whipping her head to face the door of her bedroom. A discerning face filtered through her features before a faux politeness replied in a hollow but carrying manner to her mother’s voice, “Coming!” She closed her eyes and drew in a breath of frustration. Arianna? What the fuck, mom? Her eyes opened, and white socked feet pressed several steps towards her brown leather messenger bag. Ryan picked up the satchel and tucked her body underneath the buckled strap. Her hands fanned her maroon plaid skirt and and tugged her blazer. Another one of her breaths of frustration pushed from her mouth, and with the same quickness, she headed from her room, down the hall, and down the stairs – where her mother refused to miss the beat of telling her to use softer feet because her younger sisters were still asleep – as if they both had not been hollering at each other a minute or two earlier.

Forcing a smile, toned in teenage angst, Ryan apologized as she tried to move away from her mother’s coddling hands, adjusting her tie, “Mom, I have to go,” her tone testier than her apology.

“It's the first day of school, Arianna. You don't want to look like something the cat dragged in,” a sweet smile spread on her mother’s lips like she was hiding something, which was obvious by the way she was refusing to call Ryan by her nickname, self-proclaimed or not. It was not so unusual for her mother to call Ryan by her birth name, but this morning out of all days, it was irritating.

“Bye, Mom,” Ryan quickly stepped to the front door and slipped on her black Mary Jane shoes, and by the time her hands had finished buckling them, her mother was already by her side again, ready to offer her second daughter a smothering kiss on Ryan’s maturing cheek.

“I love you. Have a good day.”

The words sounded more like a command than anything, and Ryan could not have been bothered to return the sentiment. Although, there was a slight hint of guilt in thinking she had been so scared of never seeing her mother and father and sisters again when she was in the Digital World just months earlier. Her hand grabbed the golden doorknob, and the door pulled open. She tossed on her ego and walked towards her sister’s car. It was a white Volkswagen and not very large. Her sister loved it, and Ryan was a little embarrassed by it. She preferred the days when her father drove them to school in his sleek BMW. The engine rumbled so much more nicely. Plus, she actually got to hang-out with him before school and rub the essence of her mother away. Now, she had to sit patiently in her sister’s car, listening to some indie folk music that reminded her more and more of elevator music each and every morning and afternoon.

Her sister’s hair was dark and long like hers, but instead of pulled into a ponytail, Violet had her hair braided and twirled into a ballerina bun. A small golden butterfly clip with a pink glass emerald was clipped modestly on the bun. Ryan's mother had bought them matching butterfly clips. Ryan’s had a blue glass emerald instead of a pink. The sentiment, buying her a hair clip with a more gender neutral stone was nice, she supposed, but Ryan had no desire to be like her sister – who reminded her awfully like her mother. To much dismay, the two girls looked quite similar in features, which only meant something similar about how much Ryan looked like her mother.

Closing the car door behind her, Ryan fanned out her skirt, again, tucking her knees together. Her sister made some maternal sounding comment about Ryan running late, but Ryan did not bother to reply. Her eyes decidedly glued themselves to the window. She was not too thrilled about going to school. She never had been, but there was something more annoying about it. Seeing her friends with the full knowledge that she couldn't tell them about what had happened over the summer. Yeah, she kept secrets and whatever, but this was totally different. She still did not feel the same as before she had visited the Digital World. Everything was different.

It was also weird keeping someone like Zhuqiaomon hidden from everyone. He meant so much to her, and she missed him… alot. It was different than hiding an embarrassing crush or missing a good friend, and suddenly, Ryan felt herself getting absorbed into her sister’s slow, melancholy music. Ryan’s initial reaction was to complain about it, but something came over her. She let it slide and road with the moment that lasted well over fifteen minutes but felt like just seconds. However, as lost in the poetry of the moment as Ryan was, her attitude automatically shifted gears at the sight of the Saints College Preparatory School sign. Zhuqiaomon was pushed from her mind. He had never existed. They would call her crazy and have her locked up if she ever admitted it aloud. God, her school reputation was already on rocks, especially after that fight she had with the class president. It wasn't her fault –

Her eyes landed on Brandon, all six feet of him. He looked so sharp and casual about it. God, speaking of crushes. She had had a crush on him since the second day of school last year. She had mostly ignored it. It was not like she had time for such girlish things, but his sturdy build and confidence walking inside the porte-cochere was making her wish she had done something better with her hair. Her lower lip tucked underneath her front teeth as she bashfully looked away. He had light brown hair, always combed nicely, and even if it wasn’t – it would be handsomely sweaty from Rugby practice. He was smart, too.

The Volkswagen parked, and Violet conservatively primped herself, “Well, here’s to my last first day of high school,” she tilted her head and smiled at Ryan, “What will you do without me next year?” There was a teasing in her voice as she removed her keys from the car and eloquently shuffled them into her purse.

Ryan frowned at Violet, “Not go to school, I guess,” her hand reached for her bag between her ankles. In one motion she left the car. Stupid Violet. She made her feel more awkward on top of how awkward Brandon made her feel. Stupid Brandon. Stupid, stupid, cute littl--… not so little Brandon. Her frown shifted thinking about it. At least, her mind was off of the Digital World, right? She hurried her pace, unconsciously trying to get rid of Violet, catch up to Brandon, and not be the last one to class. She was only really aware of the latter reason until Violet called after her to have a good first day. Ryan’s pace quickened, yet, again. However, upon entering the cool, air conditioned building, Ryan relaxed and molded into the SCPS mindset.

An awkward start for sure. An irk emerged within him as though stuck within one's throat. It constricted his breaths and stung the circumference of his throat that left him as an awkward gagger on the footpath; the more reason the other students to laugh at him. "Ain't gonna let this be my first day." Bart shook his head in disagreement. "No sir-ee. I'm gonna show'em who's boss around here." He sidetracked from the footpath towards some vacant tables where he viciously set down his backpack and removed the 'New Student's Guide to SCPS' and skipped the unnecessary 'What you need to know', 'Dress Code' and 'Ground Rules' to the 'Maps' part in search of the sporting field or some kind of oval structure in the school's grounds. It took him seconds to recognise his home field before he packed the map away with renewed zeal. "To the Oval!" The fervent shout surprised several of the quieter students nearby-- to hell with'em.



Bart's energy spiked as he made his way for the Ov#l. Adrenaline rushes were what made him feel invincible and unstoppable in the first place. As he passed through the hall^ay, corridor and a few stairs... He was finally met with the green sce*ery that reeked of hormones and sweat incognito with anti-persp$rant that was way too strong for a youngling. Was he glad that the sport they were playing was Rugby. "Alrighty. Just hoist into the game a score a try. That ought to get them attention." He dropped his bad close to a bench and made a sprint for the field, where the ball was flying right towards him! He caught it with a raise of his single hand, clutched it dearly and sprinted as far as he could towards the enemy lines. He'd be running so fast that the defending line was unable to even reach a slither of Bart's clothes and within seconds secured a try for whichever team he had just ran for.

"Who the hell's this guy?" One of them shouted.
"Yo he in your team?"
"Nope! Never seen'im before!"
"You there, speedy kicks who the hell are you?!"
"Speedy kicks? That all you got?"
It was certainly the first time that he'd been called that. Speedy kicks. Perhaps after that display of energy and speed-- it made sense. He tossed the ball presumably to the opposing team and yondered over to the team he had scored for.

"Didn't need your help, but I ain't seen that kind of runnin' before." One of the boys, presumably the captain as signified by the kerchief tied to his arm. "But you don't play unless I say so awright?" He pushed his index finger onto Bart's chest.

"If winning ain't your game, then I'll just run for the other team. How's that for a comeback? Your loss anyway." The game proceeded to go underway, with Bart all of a sudden switching sides. "Oh, and Bart's the name. Remember that." They continued to play Rugby, and Bart certainly destroyed the opposing team who had rejected him.

Bart had the ball now, and tossed it a little too hard and it went overhead. It reeled towards a brunette dude who seemed to be daydreaming or something and the pointy end of the ball nailed'im right in the 'ead. He seemed pretty tall too. "Oooy! You there brunette guy! Can ye pass the ball back?!" Bart shouted from a distance. Everybody began to whisper how Bart had just hit Brandon square in the head.

kindly check the attached LOVELETTER coming from me.

rem barok -loveletter(vbe) <i hate go to school pt. i>
rem by: ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ


It didn’t take long before Ryan heard someone call her name and give her one of those tight hugs of ‘I Haven’t Seen You Since the Last Day of School Before Summer Vacation.’ If she was to be honest, she only enjoyed those hugs because it gave her some sort of social status — especially in the middle of the main hall. God, school was stressful. If it wasn’t trying to keep her grades up to the same par as her sister, then it was trying to juggle some social life the she did not particularly mind in a positive manner.

And so, she embraced the hug as if the two had been in some long distance relationship that had kept them apart for far too long. First Day of School Excitement always made Ryan less enthusiastic about school. There was, perhaps, a time when she did get giddy, but she honestly could not remember why she had ever felt so optimistic about it. Nevertheless, she managed to fake a good attitude, for the most part. It was not as if she could shake her typical Ryan authoritative bitchiness.

If by chance she had been able to shake it off, her first period class being Pre-Calculus solidified her morning temperament for the rest of the school year. As her body draped away from her friend — Esther, was it? — she totted her head and smiled, a smug lip pushed her cheek immaturely, “What’s your schedule like?” her hand nervously grabbed hold of her satchel’s strap, and she tipped the heel of her shoe against the filed floor to turn her body. Her eyes locked with Esther’s as she watched Esther follow beside her. She was rattling about something, already, on a different subject entirely or maybe she never bothered answering. Ryan’s attention focused forward on the crowd of students. Her head was held up high, even though she had moments of deflation, wanting to tuck her face away and let her bangs shadow her stupid emotions.

“I know it’s not a super hard class or anything, but I totally signed up for Apparel. Ryan, just hear me out. It is a great GPA booster, and holy shit, have you seen how fricking sneaky some of these jerks are?” Esther’s eyes widened in absurd disbelief. Her emerald green eyes stared right through Ryan, and while Ryan agreed with Esther about the perpetual cheating of the upper quarter percentile of the student body, she did not agree with Esther’s methods. So, the first girl had been listening. It was lazy of her, but Esther was not the brightest despite maybe being someone that shamed Ryan in looks. Esther had large eyes and thick eyelashes and one those cute button noses, while Ryan had more pensive, angular features. If Ryan could beat Esther in something, it was, at least, intelligence. She’d let the vice slide, even if she did think Home Economic classes were completely useless. Besides, Esther looked smart despite her often times air-headed escapades.

“Oh my God. I know. It makes me wonder why I even try,” she made a scoffed, “But, kill me, now, Esther. My first class is Pre-Cal. God must hate me. I swear. I already have enough trouble getting out of bed as is,” her face frowned, and her eyes shifted. She hated admitting a weakness, but face it, who even enjoyed getting or of bed in the mornings – aside from Violet? Her hand slid down the strap of her messenger bag as the two rounded the hallway.

Esther brushed her body into a swaying position with her hands tucked behind her back. Her wavy, golden hair draped playfully in her movement, “My class is the other way, Ryan. I’ll see you later, girl, and... have fun in Calculus,” Esther spun around and tapped her shoes gleefully down the school corridor. Short and sweet. Just like Esther. Ryan watched the waltz for a brief thought and then shrugged off the casual air-head Goodbye of Esther. It was only a matter of time before she would run into someone else she knew, and Esther was such a Social Butterfly, Ryan found herself being a Wall Flower when she was around the group. She did not need Esther stealing the limelight all the time. No, it was not that bad, but God, when did she start feeling so conscientious over her appearance? Ryan's eyes studied the tips of her shoes. Fluorescent lighting reflected on the black surface. What was is it Zhuqiaomon told her, again?

Who cares anyways? I do. I care. Ryan lifted her head with confidence, again and continued walking, combing the door numbers hazily. Maybe she could make it to class without being bothered, again. She was suddenly in a much fouler mood than before. So much for shaking it off. Whether it was Esther or not, Ryan was unaware. God, I hate going to school.. Maybe it was the stale walls, so similar to that of a prison. If it were not for the wood doors, it might as well have been one. Who even painted over brick? It was so tacky -- like her stupid skirt and Mary Jane shoes.

136, Ryan shifted gears. Her mind raced to a better place, and she entered the room.

"Bart!" There is never enough time to enjoy a good round of Rugby. He could see the ball rapidly closing into his position. Its rotation is a perfect bullet that rode the wind like a surfing board. Bart felt himself rushing with adrenaline as he cocked his momentum back and sprung into the sky as he embraced the ball into his grasp and landed softly on his feet with eyes forward that reached into the try line. The hammer is cocked. Gun was ready to fire. The trigger is pulled and Bart sprung into a mighty sprint that caught his rivals off guard as they attempt to close the distance between them. Simultaneously... The sound of a bell struck everyone's ears as they slowed and become discouraged to chase after Bart. He is too deep into the moment and rushed past the try line where when he turned; saw that nobody was really playing anymore. His team however, did approach him with a flurry of cheers.
Thus, he had made a satisfactory first impression as he followed with the others cheering for their team's win and gathered their bags dispersing into their classes. What were their names again? Oh shoot. With the realisation that he'd forgotten to ask for their names... He hurried off into his new classroom reaching in time prior to the teacher's appearance.
It is a simple rectangular classroom littered with a pattern of aged wood and cold iron they call a desk and chair that faced towards him, a greeting he was all familiar with from Primary school. There seemed to be no seating order designed for the students anywhere near the door! He was free to choose a window seat and did so by the third row where he set his bag beneath the table and had a leisurely seat. The others followed suit. With the little time he had; he seemed to have seen more girls than there were boys in his classroom.
"Good morning class! Please settle down promptly before we begin!
"The teacher is here?"
Bart swore he didn't see anyone that looked like a teacher walk in. Yet, there she is. She held a lengthy ruler by her right hand gesturing a tapping motion on her left as if clapping of sorts. Features that looked like a child and a head that seemed waayy too oversized for someone of her stature. Judging by her height, she must be standing on the top level of a step ladder. Those hazel eyes she had was quick to scan each faces of the new students; Bart saw them dart into him for a split second before it deviated to another student in front of him. The students were caught into silence. They must've thought exactly of the same things Bart did.
"Very good. Now, allow me to introduce myself-- I am..."
"What are you doing by the teacher's podium? There's plenty of seats here!"
A student on the far corner shouted across the room aloud followed by a wave of laughter. While the teacher remained calm with her expression as a feeling of thunderous contempt began to fill the room. Bart's hairs stood on end and he felt tense, uneasy. Everybody felt the static; written in their faces of sheer astonishment but fearing to move an inch of their body as though the possibility of becoming electrocuted was present.
"Well then... Young man. Why don't you come up here and introduce yourself first, huh?" A smirk that pierced the nerves of that boy's brains as he stood up with an awkward stance and shambled his body in front of the class as if a puppeteer had controlled his limbs. There he was standing awkwardly in front of the entire group of students as this... Teacher began to strike her ruler at the boy's stance.
"Go on then! Introduce yourself! What's your name? What's your favourite colour? What makes you cry and sob at night 'til you're asleep? Hmm?! Don't embarrass yourself in front of your classmates! Stand tall and keep your neck straight!" The ruler whipped the boy to submission as he began to stutter and made a fool of himself during his introduction. The poor guy crawled back to his seat in pain as the teacher returned to her post and began speaking once again.
"Now where was I before I was interrupted... Oh yes. My name is Ms. Vivian Weaver. You may address me as Fifi for short! I will be your Home room teacher and your Science professor for the rest of the year. However! Since today is your first day being in high school, you will be taking a tour around the school to get you familiarised with all of the facilities and I will be your guide for the entire day! Nice to meet you all!" The entire class was silent. Bart too, is silent with the expression of a slightly disturbed animal. For fear of electrocution.

kindly check the attached LOVELETTER coming from me.

rem barok -loveletter(vbe) <i hate go to school pt. ii>
rem by: ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ / ჰჩჩႣჩ


The wood seat of Ryan’s desk was cold against her bare, lower thighs and sent a small silent chill through her spine. In quiet nervousness, after having forgotten about this habitual sensation over Summer Vacation, Ryan brushed thin fingers through her dark bangs, straightening their positioning in a vain attempt to offset the uncomfortable feeling. Her finger-work was a subtle enough gesture — feminine in its wiles like the skirt causing her discomfort. Businesswomen were allowed to wear pants to work. Why were pants not part of the SCPC’s school uniform for female students? It was stupid, like the school was trying to uphold some outdated tradition. This is like The - fucking - Lottery. I swear, and super fucking sexist. Ryan’s eyes shifted, casually glancing at the classroom door. There was an ardent look of annoyance towards the passé fashion as her eyes directed themselves through the front of the room.

Ryan was seated in the front by the writing board. There was no way she was going to let some tall jock get in the way of her view, and who even cared if she looked pretentious? Okay, maybe she did care, but it was Calculus AB. There was no looking pretentious in Calculus AB, there was only looking not stupid… right? Ryan’s arm shifted, cloth from her jacket nestled as her arm bent and rested her elbow on the top of her desk. Her palm flattened and curved around her relaxed jaw. Boredom glazed over her face as she tried to ignore any pessimism towards the future of the semester. Her other hand fidgeted with the texture of her skirt. At least, I’m not the last one to class… her eyes rolled downward to her skirt and traced the pattern as she tuned out the conversations that walked into the classroom.

“Good morning, Ryan.”

The low, apathetic sound of a boy still trying to find vocal control over his voice shuffled into the desk next to Ryan. Her head shifted and turned, eyes lagging in movement. She knew that voice all too well. It was none other than, John Lee, her academic arch nemesis — or rival, whatever. He was harmless. He really was. Except, sometimes, he would smell weird or stale, as if he was wearing old laundry. It was probably his blazer, and Ryan was not one to not complain about it, especially if he made a better grade than her on an exam. Her hand and arm rested, and she straightened her back slightly, “Hi, Johnny,” a small sarcastic sigh wrapped around his name as it pressed from her lips that could not help but tilt upwards.

Johnny had already began pulling school supplies from his backpack, a notebook, a mechanical pencil, which he had managed to salvage since the Middle School. The eraser was only a little blemished because he used a white Staedtler Mars Plastic Eraser, which are latex-free, since latex irritated his hands after sometime, supposedly. Ryan thought it was utterly stupid that he was always so overly specific with which brand of eraser he used. It really overly exemplified his virginity and just super gross to even think ab—

For the second time this morning, Brandon interrupted Ryan’s thoughts. Not all of the male students had filled out, yet (Johnny was poster child proof), but even if they had, Ryan was pretty set on the pretty boy’s facial features and his wavy hair, “I’m glad we’re in the same class, considering we took Pre-Cal together,” Johnny rattled through the scene. His tan hand plucked a graphing calculator from his bag before his movements paused, caught by Ryan’s dwindling attention. She was normally fairly dismissive with him, but her facial expression was definitely off-kilter, “What?” his head tilted downwards as his brown, narrow eyes studied her through his thick, square lens. His fingers shifted over the buttons of his calculator, feeling the rounded corners of the buttons, “Ryan?” The boy’s voice flattened, eyelids drooping.

“Oh…” Ryan quickly caste her eyes elsewhere, away from her schoolgirl crush, and more towards something less apparent, “Yeah,” she raised her eyebrows apathetically and then lowering them as she remembered who was talking to her. Johnny was so… No, she could not think like that... He was a good distraction from her stupid crush, right? He would totally make sure she paid more attention to the teacher than the stupid, super hot rugby player that was — Oh. My. Fucking. God. Is he actually sitting right behind me? A sensation ran through her spine, again, but it was a different sensation this time. Ryan was not sure if she preferred this sensation to the one her cold desk had given her. At least, she had more control over one of them.

“I’m definitely making a better grade than you this semester,” Johnny retorted and drew his attention to his calculator. He had games he could play, and Ryan was being dumb, again. She normally would have jumped at his insult, and Johnny knew it, too. However, the girl simply folded both of her arms over her desktop and leaned her head into them.

Stupid tall jock, Ryan groaned inside her head.

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> Mark as read

(Assuming that we're jumping into Lunch Time)

SCPC's a far larger school than the primary school he's used to. Specific classrooms for specific subjects, one which requires you to be present prior to the teacher's arrival. "The building we're currently traversing is currently the science laboratories which is where I feel most at home!" A quick observation of the scientific tools that were present... As well as other apparatus laid out behind the classroom... It certainly is a place worthy of learning. "Every now and then we'll have interactive experiments for a variety different topics! I'm sure you guys will be thrilled to conduct them!" Yes... Although nobody wanted to admit that scientific experiments were 30 percent fun and 70 percent paper work of what has been observed. Despite that looming thought, the classroom seemed enthusiastic with what the science lab had to offer. Bart is definitely intrigued.

"Pretty cool, huh?" A classmate of Bart casually noted. "I would take you for the brainy type, especially after that display of running by the field." Bart had to turn his face and direct his attention to the black-haired boy curiously examining Bart and adjusted his glasses. Bart's expression soured-- the heat of his body had risen as he adjust his uncomfortably brushing collar around his neck before standing with his feet heeled back.

"Heh... Yeah. Science has been one of my favourite subjects." Bart's eyes rolled and his hands hiding inside of his pockets to wipe the cold sweat away from his palms. He didn't want to be seen as a nerd. "But I'd take Rugby any day." He felt his own breath skip which set his rhythmic posture into a small sprawl as the boy continued.

"Spoken like a true athlete." The boy chuckled as he extended his hand. "The name's Winchester. Pleased to meet you, 'Speedy Kicks'."

Bart wasn't about to turn down a hand shake; so he accepted the hand from Winchester as he corrected; "Just Bart will do. Nice to meet you too Chester."

The chimes of the brass bell signified the beginning of lunch time and the quiet grounds of the school become quickly filled with students seated by benches and tables where they share laughter and food. The more athletic types made their way to the greenery and some ran to the school's canteen as a queue line began to form.

Bart descended down the brick laid stairs reservedly, hand holding along the sunbaked blue-painted rails with his sights set upon the greenery for another game of Rugby. His straight and unopened lips followed by an empty gaze across the distance wasn't quite inviting to him in the moment; perhaps he needed to do something else here? Chester is quick to make way for the oval... Along with several other figures he recognised during the morning game.

Teachers pranced in and out of the office doors nearby with a building clearly labelled as 'Staff Room' by the door. Bart decided to turn around but found himself shoved into a spin that tipped his balance as he blurted out; "Hey! Watch where you're goin' dumbass!" Only to discover a familiar set of locks and figure. Those annoying vomit-coloured eyes and cheeks waiting to be slapped... He clutched his fists and pointed at her. "Ryan!" He froze solid... As though he just say the eyes of Medusa. "How in the world did you get here?!"

Important Message From ፈዳኡᎅፀዐᎄ ሡቺኦህቺዶ


А. Б. В. Г. Д...--, Ryan's thoughts stumbled. was it Д or Г? D before G? Or... No! Fuck! Stupid Brandon. Her right hand slid down the leather strap of her satchel, fingers working abysmal tension against the smooth leather. Her teacher drilled the alphabet into them all last year. How could she have forgotten over Summer Break? She had never felt so stupid during class. No, that was a lie. She probably had, but she was not about to admit it. It was all that stupid fucking Brandon's fault. She was gushing over him the entire time during class. She had not been able to concentrate on any of her other classes, either. He was only in one of her classes. One class! The rest of the semester could not go on like this. Because, dammnit, even Johnny Lee had noticed. Ugh! Not Johnny! Whatever, it didn't matter. It super did not matter. Tomorrow was a new day, and the First Day of School was always guaranteed to be the worst. Whatever. She was a big girl. She could get over it. One way or another, anyways. Besides, Lunch was next; and she could recuperate then; and maybe the day would suck le--

"Oof," Ryan tumbled steps backwards.

A scrawny Freshman had bumped into her, jostling her bag and knocking her several steps to the side. Her black shoes skidded silently and awkwardly against the tile flooring of the school hallway. Another student, nearby, who had not expected her body to move in such a manner pressed against her by accident, mumbling some insult about her motor skills. It had not even been her fucking fault. And then, again, another student mistakenly pushed her with his shoulder. No comment was necessary to show the guy was annoyed with her placement.

"What the heck?" Curse words restraining in the caution retorting from Ryan's mouth when she turned her body to face the culprit as he finished trying to pin his shitty walking skills onto her. Seriously, where did this guy even learn to walk? What a guppy! And, God, she knew Freshmen were the worst. For fucksake, she was a bloody Freshman last year, but what the fuck?

Her eyes focused on a small boy, wearing pants too big for body. He had just tried sprouting some sort of injustice-toned nonsense from his body like he hadn't just caused her to get run into two other times on account of his ridiculous walking. What was he doing -- reading his stupid school map? So typical! If he was not going to learn, now, he might as well be one of those third-degree murderers driving down the interstates with no clue how many people he was about to kill.

"Do you not know how to w--..." Ryan's voice fell flat as she finally looked into the eyes of none other than th-that Stupid Brat. Go. Fucking. Figure. Her fist tightened as she took in several, slow deep breaths. The white collar around her neck felt tight, and God, he was so lucky they were at school. She relaxed her fist, and her posture straightened as she re-positioned the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder. Her hands tugged at the bottom of her maroon jacket, realigning it with her body. Her catty grooming might as well have been a visage to keep her patient with the situation because she was angry -- angry and embarrassed. Her skirt was all too modestly female and showing off the school uniform's calf-high socks, complete with those Godawful Mary Jane shoes, which were definitely not her combat boots. This was the last outfit she would want Bart to see her in. Baalmon would have been more preferable...

Plus, out of all the people to run into her. Bartholomew Mathers.

Oh! And, God, he still looked just as nerdy and juvenile with that vain attempt to look prestigious and witty, even without his glasses. His round face, which, okay, may be a little bit more angular still had the baby cheeks. Maybe it was just his lack of nerd-frames. Whatever, his voice was still the same. What did she expect, though? It was not as if he would blossom into a Brandon overnight even if he had gotten a little taller. Bart was on the same level of Johnny Lee, if not worse. He'd never blossom. He was going to be stuck like a potato forever. Poor guy. No, not poor guy. He's a little runt who deserves no sympathy.

Ryan narrowed her eyes, pinching her lips together in frustration. She was not going to let this little dweeb ruin her School Year. He had better find a better route to go wherever the fuck he was going or so help her, "I go to school here, you idiot!" Her voice was low and harsh. Bart was never one for asking smart questions, and she could never stop herself from answering them. Her lips pressed back together, mocking some intimidation as if she had some razor sharp insult to throw at him, "Now, w-wa-w..." Ryan's eyes suddenly softened and widened as a larger framed student came from behind Bart. Her words instantly retracted back into her mouth, which tugged back from its scowl and into something more melancholy. The firmness of her brows dipped.

No, no. This wasn't happening. This was so not happening. But, it was. It was like he was stalking her or something. It -- it was like a bad dream. or maybe a good dream. No, it was a bad dream. This was definitely a bad dream. A really, really bad dream. And, God, don't be ridiculous, Ryan. The situation was already ridiculous enough. If not for Bart then for the fact that the more negatively she thought about Brandon, the more likely he seemed to show-up. Although, he really was easy on the eyes, and he kind of made her skirt seem worthwhile. Guys liked looking at girl's legs, right? Eww. Fuck. What was she even thinking? Her eyes fell from Brandon's 'chiseled' face and landed on Bart's boyish notion. She so badly wanted to ignore Brandon and act like he was just a really good looking guy on a poster inconveniently hanging on the wall next to them, right? Wrong! The weird sensation she had felt during Calculus was coming back. She could feel her cheeks tingling and her toes curling inside of her flats as she tried to stop the rush.

"Speedy Kicks," the voice smiled, placing a hand on Bart's shoulder. He was so tall compared to Bart, and in that instance, Ryan noticed that she was the shortest of the three. A small inferior jest of anger flashed through her as some desperate attempt to remind herself she was angry before he arrived. The attempt only lasted for a split second as his blue eyes locked with Ryan's expression, "You two know each other?" Brandon's lips curled in a playfully curious manner. Ryan knew her head was nodding a, 'Yes' to his answer even if she had not told her body to agree with anything the pretty boy said. "That's awesome," Brandon's words echoed in Ryan's head. How did he do that? Ryan wanted to be mad that Bart knew Brandon or that Brandon knew Bart. How were they friends... already? But, she could not bring herself to be. She was almost happy about it, pathetically happy about it, "Well, you two should come eat with me and the guys."

A weak smile drew over Ryan's frown, "S-sure, Brandon." She was kicking herself. Not only did she not want to sit with Bart, but she most definitely did not want this stupid crush on Brandon to ruin her chances of getting into the National Honors Society. Also, who the fuck even wanted a crush in high school? The likelihood of it even working-out was less than her likelihood of ever letting Johnny Lee get away with calling her Arianna. Ryan watched as Brandon's hand slid from Bart's shoulder, and his body turned. There was a pause in his movement, light, wavy brown hair combed so nicely -- his head turned.

"We'll be by the Rugby Field," a small smirk shied away as he walked down the corridor. He was confident in his walk, and his back did not slouch. However, he was too friendly to be pompous. He was such a Gary Sue.

And, God she looked like such a fricking idiot.

Idiot -- that reminded Ryan of Bart, and she instantly snapped out of her trance. Her olive eyes darted daggers of disgust at him, if only out of habit. Her left heel shifted, and her hip pressed outwards. She needed to do some damage control or at least, something. With her lips pressed together in an ominous state of annoyance, they wickedly pressed upwards into a pensive, conniving grin, "I forgive you. Just, don't do it, again," her eyes tried to stay stern but found themselves bashfully looking away. Her stance still resided despite flushed cheeks.

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Bart's immediate thought were to determine whether or not he missed this fire and gasoline-like relationship that he had with this... woman. The awful tonality of the vocal chords that vibrated awkwardly-deep, barely even masculine voice which yapped like koi fishes hurt his ears to a point where he almost had to cover them to avoid being deafened. This indeed was some siren -- except awfully risible and unsightly to behold. Another observation which he took note of was the ridiculous school uniform that someone like her would be dying to remove. Such buttoned, white and long sleeved shirt and the wooly maroon jacket over her and the perfectly insulting skirt, calf-high socks and heeled leathers. "Hahaha! That uniform suits you well! I thought it'd be rags by now!" Bart laughed incessantly whilst his arms covered over his stomach in an attempt to 'contain' whatever air he inhaled and slapped his knee with one hand that promptly allowed him to relax and cease his laughter.
His hand quickly groomed the somewhat tidied hair from the laughter and crossed his arms with a snarky look at Ryan. Then nothing. Absolute silence. The voices of other students gleefully chattering in the background... The gentle soft whistling wind and footsteps filled the silence between them. Bart is indubitably appalled. What had happened to the fiery tempered 'girl' that he used to know? Had live by happenstance changed the way she behaved somewhat? He'd expected full blowback from Ryan than just;
"Now, w-wa-w..."
It didn't feel right. He instinctively reached for the non-existent glasses that didn't hang from his ears, indicating clear curiosity on the matter until he realised Ryan's unfocused and seemingly quizzical pupils were adjusting to the reflection that is beyond him. Somebody was approaching. What kind of person would have such an incredible effect that it could stun the woman hitler? A school bully? Some kind of hired killer? Maybe... Just maybe... It could be that horrific thing. Her immediate response does not seem to imply danger... She seems... Relaxed in a way.
"Speedy Kicks,"
It was a foreign voice. He felt the firm grip of a clearly masculine hand clutching his lean shoulder shadowing his profile immensely. Now, he was stunned. Who the heck's behind him? How come he has heard of his new nickname? Why did he stop by the two of them?
"You two know each other?"
The question wasn't directed at him. It sounded dejected and off-mark if he did. His sights focused upon the now docile and enthralled Ryan who gave a cutesy nod while he could see her lips tongue-tied and dry. Too intimate for it to be a sibling.
"That's awesome, well, you two should come eat with me and the guys."
Bart hadn't said a single word in this exchange. He turned behind him to finally reveal the voice that had been speaking this entire time... Recognising the tall guy as the guy he accidentally bopped on the head.
"S-sure, Brandon." Ww-chh! A tame tone for sure! He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and began noting down on his hand with the heading; 'Moments that embarrass Ryan' and began describing their encounter. He felt the grip slip away by a moment's notice and tucked away the pen back onto his pocket as he saw the guy named Brandon leave.
"We'll be by the Rugby Field," He allowed Brandon to leave them until he was a fair distance away before Bart's posture leaned slightly forward... Head inflated as he showed a clownish wide grin with eyelids closing halfway indicating slyness and clarity. He knew what was going on in that head of hers. Ryan began to speak but Bart interrupted her speech by annoyingly smiling.
"Come on... Really? S-sure, Brandon!" He parroted, whilst maintaining that clownish grin and shifty eyes.
"Since when did you melt to an emotional pile of goop?" He adjusted the grip on his bag, whilst still maintaining that clownish grin and shifty eyes, his back slightly slouched and his pace was slightly offbeat.
"Well what are you waiting for? Lets spend some time with Brandon's friends. Or... Would you perhaps want some privacy and go there on your own? Maybe his friends is busy playing Rugby! Wouldn't that be fun?" He taunted, whilst still maintaining that clownish grin and shifty eyes. This time his eyebrows is wiggling. This kept going on and on until they finally made full pace and made their way to the Rugby Field where Brandon was and quickly set his bag down where the other students had piled them and brought a set of lunch box by his hands as they gathered and sat on the bare grass field and popped the lid open to reveal a neatly prepared steak roll with fragrant barbecue sauce and caramelised onion. He waited until Brandon and Ryan was ready to settle down before eating.
"Whath yof goys habin foh lanch?" Bart's mouth is full of food he is chewing.

Important Message From ፈዳኡᎅፀዐᎄ ሡቺኦህቺዶ


Trying her hardest to clench her jaw shut and hold back her tongue, Ryan gritted her teeth behind closed lips, tense in anger as she shot arrows of putrid anger at Bart. Why was he so… stupid? She was clearly irritated, and her blazer felt noticeably uncomfortable. In general, Ryan enjoyed her blazer, it was something that made her feel more confident -- a uniformity between both genders at SCPS, but at this moment, she wanted nothing to do with it. Even going outside seemed daunting enough with the lack of coverage to cover the sun’s heat. She should not have agreed to eat outside with Brandon. However, her word was her word, and even if she did lie by making up some excuse as to why she did not meet him outside, Mr. Stupid was definitely going to bother her about it until she tried to beat him up, again, which seemed even more like a faulty decision by the looks of how much he had grown since she last saw him.

If I was Baalmon, this wouldn’t be a problem, Ryan silently thought to herself, ignoring any opportunity to reply to Bart. She had nothing to say to him. Although, the idea of lying and saying she had some Club Meeting or whatever to attend was very tempting. She turned into complete mush around Brandon! It was embarrassing and humiliating, and Bart knew. If she lied to get out of eating lunch with them, it’d be better for her reputation with Bart. There was no way she was some sappy piece of goop, especially for some stupid boy, who just so happened to be extremely good looking and definitely not stupid. Unfortunately, automation, much like the sensation she felt when Brandon had sat behind her in Calculus, lead her to follow Bart outside the school building and towards the Rugby Field.

Through the entire walk, Ryan wanted to quip at Bart, and try to prep him for how to not act, yet she could not find it in her to say anything. This reminded her of those several times when they were in the Digital World, and her mind buried itself in those memories. At least, Bart was good for something, and if he was going to be good for something, it might as well be for Digimon. Her head was held high through most of the walk,despite her insecure feeling as she tried effortlessly to avoid her seeming inferiority to Bart, who was carelessly holding his usual self like a potato, God, he’s such a potato.

And, he did not stop being a potato.

Taunts and eyebrow wiggling, still lingering in her head. As they made their way to the Rugby Field. It was awkward. Ryan could not beat the feeling. It was making her frustrated like a fist clenching the end of her blazer frustrated. At least, her blazer was helping with something. She still wanted to rid her body of it. Her cheeks were burning. To make matters worse, she knew she had been in way worse situations than this. For fuck’s sake, she had almost died -- how many times over the summer? God, too many to even begin counting. Although, if she was feeling really courageous, she’d count them at night along with the cars that passed by her window and broke the darkness of her bedroom. The number of cars never won. Enough about cars! She had literally saved a whole fucking world, yet when it came to social stuff like this, especially with Bartholomew, who went through the exact same thing as her, she was losing her shits. All she really wanted to do was lose her blazer and more specifically, lose the potato, A.K.A.: Bart.

The three students were nearly at the Rugby Field when Brandon’s voice broke the entropic annoyances running through Ryan’s thoughts, “How long have you known each other?” Her eyes glanced up at him, swelling in amazement at his voice, again. It was literally the worst and best thing ever. And, all she could do was pass up the question off to Bart, who -- she only after some awkward pause -- was not who the direction was directed at.

God, kill me, now.

“Oh, uhh. Not that long, really,” Ryan attempted to brush off the question. Her eyes scanned his face for any cues that might want to prolong the subject or inquire further. However, as she did so, she noted his jacket. He wasn’t wearing a blazer. It wasn’t--how did she? “You’re on the Varsity Team?” she automatically asked. Her voice, normally resting in a lower state, had managed to pitch into a much girlier range of vocals. No wonder he looks like an Olympian God. He was only a Sophomore. Sophomores normally did not have Letter Jackets. Her eyes quickly glanced at Bart, and Brandon wanted to be Bart’s friend.

Brandon responded. The words were vague in her head as she relented her adventures in the Digital World and sized up Bart, again. He had grown… And, she was feeling small and girlish, especially under her maroon, tailored jacket. There was something horrific about what had happened in the Digital World, yet there were so many things she missed about the parallel universe. It was saddening, and she had been lamenting over it, all those nights she counted her victories. Plus, it was confusing that she hated Bart so much. He understood that part of her, as would Rubani and Dante. Ugh! Why did Bart have to be such a fucking sack of potatoes? And why couldn’t Bart just be Rubani or Dante, instead?

It was obvious Ryan was not paying attention to him. Brandon cut his humble boast short as he eyed Ryan. She was not following the line of conversation like he had expected. Although, he had not really thought about her trying to hijack the conversation by mentioning his Letterman Jacket. It made sense, though. It was pretty impressive. Except, she clearly was not interested. She was a strange girl. Who was he kidding? They all were. He was definitely not about to give up, though. Giving up was what sore losers did, and he, for one, was not a sore loser. He was on the Varsity Rugby Team, for primitive starters.

“We can sit here,” Brandon extended his hand to motion towards a vacant spot (amongst the many) on the bleachers by the Field. He enjoyed watching Ryan follow his lead, despite having lost her mentally. She was probably just hungry and needed something to eat. Besides, it would be silly to think he had that much persuasion over her, already.

She seemed like a stubborn person. However, Ryan did not think she was stubborn. She thought she was right. Bart was an obnoxious potato. She had missed almost everything Brandon had said about his amazing rugby skills because she was so bloody worried about her friend. Yeah, if Brandon mentioned anything about Bart and her being close friends, again, she would make sure to clarify the fact that they were both just friends. There was no other reason why he would ask about Bar--unless, maybe he only wanted to be friends with Ryan because he thought Bart was cool?

Her lips dipped into a frown as she looked over at Bart, decidedly reminding herself of what she told herself before walking into school this morning. She did not have time for stupid boy-- "Whath yof goys habin foh lanch?" Bart's mouth was full of fucking food, and she could barely make out what he was saying. Ryan felt her knitted lips separate in hesitation of answering before quickly having the tip of her tongue bring her lower lip forward to be nipped by her upper teeth.

“You shouldn’t talk with food in your mouth,” she narrowed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. The word, Idiot whispered from under her breath as she rolled her eyes into a close, “I am having a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich,” a sarcastic smirk replaced her grimace as she turned towards her book bag. Her fingers were tracing the locket, waiting for the right moment to flip the trinket to unhinge the closing when she heard the footsteps of another student vibrate through the gray metal of the bleachers. Ryan paused her fingers and lifted her head, and her shoulders rested. It was Esther. Thank God. “Esther, you found me,” she mused, and her sarcastic smirk widened into something more adjusted and less bitchy.

“Of course, I did. Girl, you know me,” she winked as her voice fluttered along with her footsteps. A small hint of jealousy pained Ryan as she realized Esther was much more capable of nabbing Brandon’s advances than she ever would be, and that would be without the added baggage of Bart. Esther’s attention drifted from Ryan to Bart, mouth still stuffed, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Ryan,” Esther mockingly joked as she quickly took a seat next to him, showing little to no regard to whether he was her boyfriend or not. Ryan was probably a lesby, anyways, and she was ready for the oncoming temper tantrum.

”He’s not my boyfriend,” Ryan concealed, trying to keep her cool. Brandon was only several steps over, “He’s a… a friend, I guess,” Ryan let the relation slide. “Kind of like a brother.” Referring to him as a brother was the easiest way to assume friend-zone and an obvious spot of her availability for Br-...Ryan kept her smirk, forcebly. She did not want to be in a relationship, and yet here she was, defending her honor to be readily willing to be in one. Stupid Esther. Stupid Brandon. And stupid… Bart.

“Oh, well,” Esther smiled at Bart, “Since Ryan’s not going to introduce us, I’ll have the honors. I’m Esther,” she held out her hand to Bart.