The idiocy of perfection

Chapter One: The failure of the buddy system

I'm sure you've used it, the infamous buddy system that every elementary school teacher seems to love. Well, I've witnessed its failure first hand.

No, I'm not going to launch into a traumatizing story of getting lost on a school field trip, in fact I kinda act as the teacher in this situation. Still, this isn't where our story begins so you'll have to wait.

It actually started with me being late for school.

"Taylor? Your late for breakfast!" Oh dammit. Late for breakfast, I'm late for everything. Of course, my mom doesn't have to know that. Quickly I put my hair into a messy bun and swing out of bed.

"Not that hungry!" I shout back, I never eat much of a breakfast anyway so that's pretty normal.

I throw on a old Beatles t-shirt and white jeans with my black high top converse. For only a moment, I contemplate that this outfit, which consisted of the first clothes I could find, is basically what passes for my daily routine but shake my head.

"You should eat!" my mom counters from downstairs. I look at my clock, five minutes before the bus comes. I snatch my schoolbag, and glance in the mirror.

I quickly note that my dirty blond bun looks more like a failed ponytail, and my swampy green eyes have major bags.

Well, I'll make the bus. You win some you lose some.

"Coming!" I shout, running down stairs. My mom is frowning in the kitchen.

"You can't eat now." She scowls. I shrug, grabbing and apple and opening the door. It's only September but New England has decided to pretend its mid December. I shiver. My dad tosses me my worn leather jacket and I shrug it on.

Ok, yeah, leather jacket. My parents were really into the rock scene when they were younger and although they really gave it up like twenty years ago they've kept it going by buying there daughter leather jackets and band tees.

I run out to the bus and climb on, my friends carpool but my house is way out of their way. This means I ride the bus alone.

I sigh, fishing a book out of my bag, I read intently. Reading makes me want to dress in all black and be kick-ass and start revolutions but I know I never could. Like, even if I were tossed into like the Divergent world or something I'd just be a passerby, a nobody.

Either way, it's fun to pretend for a while. I count seven more stops until we get to school, I should be all relaxed that I like made the bus and have a very slim chance of being late but my locker is on the opposite side of the school and down eight flights of stairs from my first period. I'm stressed.

We're at five more stops when the entire bus gasps. At first I actually think it's because of the climax my book has reached but I quickly regain sense and look up to see if the driver has passed out at the wheel or if a mass murder has boarded the bus.

Unfortunately, it isn't a car crash or criminal, it's James Spencer. I sigh and shake my head, James is the popular guy at school, doubling as the star of the football team and tripling as the 'bad boy'.

James owns both a motorcycle and a jeep and he and his friends never take the bus. Apparently that's all changed.

Girls immediately straighten their clothes and run nervous hands through their hair, not me though. I'm tempted to get off the bus instead if having my reading interrupted by giggling for the rest of the ride but the bus is moving and no matter how much I'd like to be dauntless, I can't jump off a moving vehicle.

He sits next to me. I don't blush or swoon or smile, I sigh. Apparently their were no other seats left. I wonder if I'll last the drive or if I'll decide to actually take back my previous statement about jumping off.