Who the hell runs into a locker?

Oh yes, me.

Big surprise, Bella. Big surprise.

In my mind, I saw an imaginary headline as I rubbed my forehead angrily.

Crazy Teenager Walks Into The Green!

Creative, very creative.

God, I seriously need to stop talking to myself.

"Seriously Bella, you need to stop talking to yourself." My best friend, Leslie, approached me with a textbook.

I wondered if could walk into a wall as hard as I could and spend next period in the nurse's office.

Leslie eyed me. "You're considering hitting a wall again, aren't you?" She sighed audibly. "I'll go get a helmet."

I glared. "Not in the mood. I walked into a locker again, in case you haven't noticed the red thing stuck to my forehead."

"Yes, of course, and rubbing it with all your might will make it go away."


"I have no idea how you get through the day, I really don't."

"That makes two of us."

I now stood in front of my locker, and watched the inanimate object warily. "You're not going to suddenly open and batter me over, are you?"

"One sign that you've lost your mind: talking to inert objects."

I almost growled.

Opening my locker, I threw a random textbook at the offending bastard.

They're my reflexes I tell you.

It wasn't Leslie, but instead some guy I'd never seen.

He had brown-blond hair, and looked quite odd half-curled on the floor clutching my covered book, honestly.

The… thing stood up, and picked up the hard-covered book that had hit him. "It seems you've found a handy use for algebra, my dear."

"That makes one hundred and one. When at loss of a hammer, just throw a useless math book at annoying bastards. Nice."

I turned back to my locker, and he laughed.

When I turned back, I was surprised to still see him there.

I'd thrown a textbook at him, for God's sake.

He held out my math reading material. "I'm… new. Tyler Ross."

"That's nice."

"You are?"

"The crazy bitch that needs to get to class."

"That's quite a long name, my dear." Okay, he was really pissing me off.

Couldn't he read the "Fuck Off" stamped right on my forehead?

To be found next to the crimson blob, of course.

"My dear? What century did you pop out of?"

"I'm not quite sure, I believe it was eighteen sixty-nine. It was a dark and stormy evening. The wind blew my hair off my face-"

I quickly interrupted him. "Shut up."

I was ready to murder Leslie for leaving me alone with him.

Walking away, I muttered a bit on how stupid and pathetic the human race was becoming.

A/N: Ya'll about to kill me for the shortness, aren't you?


Old Readers: Hiya peoples! Whatcha think?

New Readers: Hiya peoples! How are you today? Are you reading this voluntarily, by any chance?