Lunch is always loud. It's a rule, don't ya know?

Pretty preps flocking together to gossip, think skulled jocks shoveling food and laughing at bad dirty jokes.

The food is disturbing, but you shovel it down anyway. Unless, your a girl, then you're to eat nothing.

We estimate answers to English homework like mad men, only to find that the teacher decide not to correct it today.

Large Seniors flirt with Fresh-meat girls and smack little brothers, in a word, affectionately. Hit with the force of a bear paw, little brother giggles stupidly. They don't really need helmets, I think to myself.

A scarce few hum away at the library, yet most just stop to read the comics from the news that the school subscribes to daily.

Punks and Goths float around pissed off, like PMSing vampires. The punks are looking for a fight, the Goths are just pissed off at everything. The sacrifice must has gone badly, I muse.

Geeks hiss out secret words across the hall. The punks see this as an excuse and go in for the kill.

I wince, that must have hurt.

Someone pushed the kid in the wheel chair down the stairs. That's smart, break both his legs. Oh well, I never really like him.

Lunch is almost over. I didn't eat for obvious reasons.

Science is next, so I sit and wait for the bell.