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Description
                            Chapter I: The Best Years Of Our Lives?!

The crowded halls of the high school building rang with the buzz of chatter that could only come from the students, fresh off their summer breaks and still recovering from the screwed up sleep schedule they no doubt had adopted.  The new 9th graders wandered around with shell-shocked looks on their faces, occasionally getting help with their obvious questions from the kinder upperclassmen.  10th graders moved with decidedly more confidence, but still with an air of bravado, as if the seniors would suddenly decide to unleash their much-rumored (but never actually seen) hatred of underclassmen.  In contrast, the 11th graders moved with practiced ease, confident in their roles as the nobility of the school.  And last, the seniors, the 12th graders, were not moving about, but standing in long-claimed territories, keeping their seasoned eyes on the underclassmen and silently reveling in their first day of their last year.

“Aiden!” the cry attracted the attention of several people, including the redhead it was aimed at.  The aforementioned redhead rolled his eyes as he watched his loud friend coming towards him.  He also noted the groups of freshman girls who were giggling over the purple-haired teen.

“Hiya, Matt.” Aiden replied, distinctly quieter than the outgoing adolescent.  And there it was, hardly ten minutes into the first day of school and Aiden could see the bright pink of a detention slip peeking out of Matt’s pocket.  With an exasperated sigh, Aiden snatched the slip and waved it in front of Matt’s face.  More freshman girls had gathered and were talking amongst themselves, no doubt about how cute the “delinquent” Matt was.

‘And why wouldn’t they?’ thought Aiden, as Matt gave him a sheepish smile.  Matt wasn’t bad-looking at all.  He was tanner than Aiden, even though he didn’t venture outside much more than the virtual recluse Aiden was.  His build was more muscular, and his hair was always some odd color.  This year, it seemed, his hair would be purple, and his eyes were sporting matching purple contacts.

“What’s it about this time?” Aiden asked, allowing Matt to grab the slip.  Matt was a walking infraction of the school code.

“Well, there’s the hair color,” Matt began, “and the uniform.” Aiden nodded, regarding Matt’s lack of school jacket and tie with a curious, bespectacled eye.  Where did that boy’s uniform jacket get to?  He never seemed to have it.

“Rule #3!” came a voice from the crowd, “No student of Prince’s Hill Private School is permitted to dye their hair an unnatural color!  And Rule #1, students must wear the whole uniform as outlined in the rulebook!”  A tall, senior girl stepped out of the crowd with short, curly hair that was dyed what looked like dark grey (it had actually been an attempt at blue).

“Hey Leigh.” Matt and Aiden called cheerfully.  Leigh had met them both on their bus last year, when Aiden was in 10th grade and Matt was a lowly 9th grader.  As she got closer, Matt held up his detention slip and Leigh held up a matching slip.  Leigh wasn’t wearing her school tie, and instead of black dress shoes, she had Converses.

“So kiddies, whaddaya got first periods?” Leigh asked, leaning conspiratorially towards her friends.

“Chamber Choir and Chemistry.” Matt replied, sneaking a glance at his schedule.

“Two maths.” Aiden gagged, making a disgusted face, “Right next to each other, rooms 205 and 203.”  They all winced in sympathy, and then in pain when the school bell loudly buzzed to open first period.  Saying their ‘goodbye’s, the group split and all headed off to their separate classes.

The crowd of freshman girls all stumbled after Matt, each trying to reach him to ask how to get to their class, and maybe get the chance to flirt a little.

                                                           ~*~

After a mind-numbing 50 minutes in College Algebra (most of which Aiden had spent wondering if the boy in the front row, who was wearing size 0 pants, was actually a reanimated skeleton) the bell rang.

“Oh boy, more math.” Aiden commented to his more-acquaintance-than-friend friend, Emile Wanzer, who he had just befriended last year and who he shared the first two periods with.

“I know.” Emile responded, “Makes you look forward to the rest of the year, huh?” Aiden only groaned in reply as the two entered room 203, only six or seven steps from the previous room of 205.  After finding their seats, no thanks to the screwed-up seating chart, they sat down to await the rest of their class.  Being so close in the previous class had made them insanely early.

As students they didn’t know filed in and struggled to make sense of the backwards and flipped seating chart, Aiden caught a glimpse of a familiar shock of fiery orange hair.

“Korey!” he called, and then indicated the seat next to himself, where Korey Nash was assigned to sit.

“What’s up, Aiden?” Korey asked as he sat in the proffered seat, “And better yet, what kind of ‘get-to-know-the-other-kids-in-the-class’ activity d’you think we’ll do?”

“I’m hoping it isn’t a memory game of any kind.” Aiden replied, and Korey nodded.  Both boys knew how bad Aiden’s memory was.  The bespectacled teen was only able to remember he had homework to do by the grace of the gods, and even then he still forgot most of the time.  If something wasn’t interesting to Aiden, it quite literally went in one ear and out the other.

“We can only hope...”

                                                           ~*~

Fifty minutes later, after a memory game and several in-depth equations, Aiden and Korey burst happily out of room 203.  After several deep gulps of free, not-math-related air, the two began ambling down the stairs.

“What’s next for you?” Aiden asked.

“History.  You?”

“English.  In fact, here’s my room!  See ya!” Aiden waved, turning to enter the classroom.  Korey waved back and turned the corner, on his way to the old Social Studies wing.

“I hope we don’t do anything grammar-related today.” Aiden muttered to himself, finding a seat.  The teacher, Ms. Voso according to Aiden’s schedule, entered.

“All right class,” she said, placing a stack of books on the table, “Let’s see what you know about grammar!”

And something deep inside Aiden snapped.

Description
                            Chapter I: The Best Years Of Our Lives?!

The crowded halls of the high school building rang with the buzz of chatter that could only come from the students, fresh off their summer breaks and still recovering from the screwed up sleep schedule they no doubt had adopted.  The new 9th graders wandered around with shell-shocked looks on their faces, occasionally getting help with their obvious questions from the kinder upperclassmen.  10th graders moved with decidedly more confidence, but still with an air of bravado, as if the seniors would suddenly decide to unleash their much-rumored (but never actually seen) hatred of underclassmen.  In contrast, the 11th graders moved with practiced ease, confident in their roles as the nobility of the school.  And last, the seniors, the 12th graders, were not moving about, but standing in long-claimed territories, keeping their seasoned eyes on the underclassmen and silently reveling in their first day of their last year.

“Aiden!” the cry attracted the attention of several people, including the redhead it was aimed at.  The aforementioned redhead rolled his eyes as he watched his loud friend coming towards him.  He also noted the groups of freshman girls who were giggling over the purple-haired teen.

“Hiya, Matt.” Aiden replied, distinctly quieter than the outgoing adolescent.  And there it was, hardly ten minutes into the first day of school and Aiden could see the bright pink of a detention slip peeking out of Matt’s pocket.  With an exasperated sigh, Aiden snatched the slip and waved it in front of Matt’s face.  More freshman girls had gathered and were talking amongst themselves, no doubt about how cute the “delinquent” Matt was.

‘And why wouldn’t they?’ thought Aiden, as Matt gave him a sheepish smile.  Matt wasn’t bad-looking at all.  He was tanner than Aiden, even though he didn’t venture outside much more than the virtual recluse Aiden was.  His build was more muscular, and his hair was always some odd color.  This year, it seemed, his hair would be purple, and his eyes were sporting matching purple contacts.

“What’s it about this time?” Aiden asked, allowing Matt to grab the slip.  Matt was a walking infraction of the school code.

“Well, there’s the hair color,” Matt began, “and the uniform.” Aiden nodded, regarding Matt’s lack of school jacket and tie with a curious, bespectacled eye.  Where did that boy’s uniform jacket get to?  He never seemed to have it.

“Rule #3!” came a voice from the crowd, “No student of Prince’s Hill Private School is permitted to dye their hair an unnatural color!  And Rule #1, students must wear the whole uniform as outlined in the rulebook!”  A tall, senior girl stepped out of the crowd with short, curly hair that was dyed what looked like dark grey (it had actually been an attempt at blue).

“Hey Leigh.” Matt and Aiden called cheerfully.  Leigh had met them both on their bus last year, when Aiden was in 10th grade and Matt was a lowly 9th grader.  As she got closer, Matt held up his detention slip and Leigh held up a matching slip.  Leigh wasn’t wearing her school tie, and instead of black dress shoes, she had Converses.

“So kiddies, whaddaya got first periods?” Leigh asked, leaning conspiratorially towards her friends.

“Chamber Choir and Chemistry.” Matt replied, sneaking a glance at his schedule.

“Two maths.” Aiden gagged, making a disgusted face, “Right next to each other, rooms 205 and 203.”  They all winced in sympathy, and then in pain when the school bell loudly buzzed to open first period.  Saying their ‘goodbye’s, the group split and all headed off to their separate classes.

The crowd of freshman girls all stumbled after Matt, each trying to reach him to ask how to get to their class, and maybe get the chance to flirt a little.

                                                           ~*~

After a mind-numbing 50 minutes in College Algebra (most of which Aiden had spent wondering if the boy in the front row, who was wearing size 0 pants, was actually a reanimated skeleton) the bell rang.

“Oh boy, more math.” Aiden commented to his more-acquaintance-than-friend friend, Emile Wanzer, who he had just befriended last year and who he shared the first two periods with.

“I know.” Emile responded, “Makes you look forward to the rest of the year, huh?” Aiden only groaned in reply as the two entered room 203, only six or seven steps from the previous room of 205.  After finding their seats, no thanks to the screwed-up seating chart, they sat down to await the rest of their class.  Being so close in the previous class had made them insanely early.

As students they didn’t know filed in and struggled to make sense of the backwards and flipped seating chart, Aiden caught a glimpse of a familiar shock of fiery orange hair.

“Korey!” he called, and then indicated the seat next to himself, where Korey Nash was assigned to sit.

“What’s up, Aiden?” Korey asked as he sat in the proffered seat, “And better yet, what kind of ‘get-to-know-the-other-kids-in-the-class’ activity d’you think we’ll do?”

“I’m hoping it isn’t a memory game of any kind.” Aiden replied, and Korey nodded.  Both boys knew how bad Aiden’s memory was.  The bespectacled teen was only able to remember he had homework to do by the grace of the gods, and even then he still forgot most of the time.  If something wasn’t interesting to Aiden, it quite literally went in one ear and out the other.

“We can only hope...”

                                                           ~*~

Fifty minutes later, after a memory game and several in-depth equations, Aiden and Korey burst happily out of room 203.  After several deep gulps of free, not-math-related air, the two began ambling down the stairs.

“What’s next for you?” Aiden asked.

“History.  You?”

“English.  In fact, here’s my room!  See ya!” Aiden waved, turning to enter the classroom.  Korey waved back and turned the corner, on his way to the old Social Studies wing.

“I hope we don’t do anything grammar-related today.” Aiden muttered to himself, finding a seat.  The teacher, Ms. Voso according to Aiden’s schedule, entered.

“All right class,” she said, placing a stack of books on the table, “Let’s see what you know about grammar!”

And something deep inside Aiden snapped.