Fran.

Chapter Two: Armstrong High School

I've been stood at this bus stop for at least the past thirty minutes. Counting all of the cracks in the glass wall of the bus shelter helped pass the time, but I'd finished with that mind-numbing activity. 163. The amount of cracks that sprawled out from the spot where some drunk had tried to run through the glass or something stupid. Probably something I would do while drunk. I'm going to neither confirm nor deny that I've ever tried to run through some glass after I've had a few drinks with my friends back home. I mean, Utah, you get my drift.

'Drunk' springs to mind, as it only could, when there is a pile of empty beer bottles and shattered green glass peeking out from behind the public trashcan right next to the run down bus stop. Looks like they had a good time, which is all that counts right? Hmm, maybe not when you're binge drinking at a bus stop.

I know I told my mom that I liked this place, but the truth is as soon as you step outside of our neighborhood, the place is a bit run down at it's best. At least the area between our street and my school, not that the place is any better than my last school anyway. Maybe it's just good character, the area looks lived in after all.

There I am trying to suss out my surroundings like I'm Sherlock Holmes or something. The school bus finally turns onto the street and I almost don't notice it, it isn't very noticeable if I'm being perfectly honest. It's dirty kind of yellow compared to the generic bright buses you see in movies. It stops in front of me. The doors shudder like they aren't going to work, and then they swing open and I get on, narrowly avoiding a smack to the face. Finding a seat wasn't hard, the bus was actually pretty empty, only a few kids spotted around the bus here and there. They all looked pretty young, I don't think there were any other seniors except for me. Probably because any other senior who was sane would be driving or getting a lift from a friend. I however am stuck on the rust bucket. In theory walking towards a seat on a bus should be pretty easy, but alas, it was me after all.

An obnoxious looking kid wearing a black shirt and old jeans with spots of mud, with blond, gelled hair that stood up on his head thought it would be a splendid idea to suddenly stick out his foot into the isle. His foot of which was hanging out of a grubby white football boot. In an obvious attempt to trip me over, he looks discouraged and slightly annoyed when I step over his ankle with ease and throw him a look.

The drive from the bus stop to the school wasn't long, passing all the different neighborhoods I've only passed once or twice before while moving - I could start to notice the differences. Some looked clean and well kept while others looks extremely expensive and completely pristine, like the whole street was occupied by people suffering from OCD. 

We stop about three times to pick up students on the same path as me. The first time we stopped was for two girls, who were now doing their makeup together in their seats, they both had blonde hair, one darker than the other. I could overhear their conversation. The usual chatty stuff you would hear from teenage girls, talking about their friends and the gossip that happened between them. We stopped again and another girl who looked very dark and gothic got on the bus. It was hard to tell what she was wearing because it was all black, but from what I could tell she really liked a band called 'The Tapers'. I could only assume by their name and logo printed on her bag. She sat down across the aisle from me and gave me an awkward glance, then she turned her attention towards the front of the bus and stared with what I can only guess was hatred or extreme dislike at the two blonde girls. The last time the bus stopped, a boy with messy, unstyled light brown hair that just covered the top of his eyebrows got on. He had green eyes that matched his tattered looking bag that was covered with patches messily stitched on. I couldn't tell if that was what he was going for but it didn't look all that bad either way. He looked older than the other people on the bus, more around my age so I suspect he's the only other senior sad enough to have to use the bus service. I already didn't have much patience for the people on the bus, mostly odd-balls or the like. None of them made any effort to talk to me, so I turned towards the window and shut them out altogether.