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Even before she was thrown down the grand canyon, Diana was having a horrific day.
She had been dreaming, though she couldn't quite remember what she was dreaming of, and when she woke up she realised she had no idea where she was.
It seemed like she was in a bus with a bunch of high schoolers, but she had no memory of ever getting on the bus. To add to it, her head was resting on the shoulder of a strange girl. The girl herself wasn't anything unusual, but Diana knew she had never before seen her. She was cute, no doubt about that, but no place in the Diana's mind could she manage to place a name to the pretty face.
She blinked a couple of times before sitting up properly, hoping the information would suddenly appear in her mind. It did not. A few dozen kids were sprawled in the seats in front of her, listening to iPods, talking or sleeping. They all looked around around her age... fifteen? Sixteen? Okay, so it was even worse. She didn't even know her own age.
The bus rumbled along a bumpy road. Out of the windows, desert rolled by under a bright blue sky.
Diana was pretty sure she'd never been in the dessert before. Directly in the seats before her sat a scrawny boy with curly hair and hispanic features. His hands were fiddling with some form of scrap, though she didn't have the knowledge to guess what.
Next to the blonde sat a boy, a blonde one, though Diana's couldn't see much more than the back of his head.
The pretty girl's hand squeezed hers. Diana hadn't even realised they were holding hands. "Diana, you alright?" She wore faded jeans, hiking boots and a fleece snowboarding jacket. Her chocolate-brown hair was cut choppy and uneven, with thin strands braided down the sides.
She wore no makeup like she was trying not to draw attention to herself, but it didn't work. She was seriously pretty, like... really, really pretty. Her eyes seemed to change colour like a kaleidoscope brown, blue and green, Diana was sure if she looked for too long she would get lost in the haze.
Diana let go of her hand, ignoring how cold it felt as she pulled away. "I'm sorry, I don't-"
In the front of the bus, a teacher shouted, "All right, cupcakes, listen up!" The guy was obviously a coach. His baseball cap was pulled low over his hair, so you could just see his beady eyes. He had a wispy goatee and a sour face, like he'd eaten something mouldy.
His buff arms and chest pushed against a bright orange polo shirt. His nylon workout pants and Nikes were spotless white. A whistle hung from his neck, and a megaphone was clipped to his belt. He would've looked pretty scary if he hadn't been five feet zero. When he stood up in the aisle, one of the students called, "Stand up, Coach Hedge!"
"I heard that!" The coach scanned the bus for the offender. Then his eyes fixed on Diana, and then on the boy in front of her, and his scowl deepened. Diana knew. She knew that this man didn't know who she was. He knew she was an intruder. But she tried not to let it get to her. She had bigger problems astake.
