Disclaimer- I don't own Inuyasha or any of its characters.
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Speak by Night Beauty
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The bus rasps in front of my house. I shift uncomfortably and stand up from the ground I sit on. My messenger bag isn't that heavy; it has five new notebooks inside with a few pencils. My right hand grips a violin case.
I dislike the school uniform for High School; I think the skirt is too short for my taste.
My feet climb the steps on the bus and I stare at the few vacant seats available.
The back has loud people; they are fooling around and throwing things to the front. It seems studious people sit in the front, avoiding the paper balls being thrown at them. I decide to sit in the middle.
I lay the bag on my lap and hug it. I'm scared of my first day at High School. Freshman, otherwise called "fish" or "fishy", are usually discriminated by upperclassmen.
"What's up with your hair?" a punk boy asks behind me. He tugs my hair but I ignore him, staring at the seat in front of me.
One part of my hair sticks out because of a rubber band I wrap around it; it's like a tiny ponytail on the side. My raven hair also goes down to the middle of my back. I'm not too tall for my height, nor am I too short. I stand at about five feet, three inches, the average height for a freshman, anyway.
As the bus leaves its last stop, I am the only one sitting alone.
I conclude more kids on the bus can't drive, they act immature and I know they are my grade level. Juniors and seniors most likely want to drive to school.
I envy them.
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When the bus reaches the school, I notice the student divided into groups.
There are cheerleaders, Goths, punks, athletes, artists, thespians, band geeks, orchestra, singers, hip-hop dancers, jazz dancers, and debate students.
I'm an outcast.
I close my eyes in utter annoyance. The cheerleaders are waving their pompoms in the air.
"Welcome students, welcome back!" They shout, earning a few glares from people. Their other members, however, clap and cheer.
Go figure.
The Goths are in a corner, trying each other's chains and other black make-up. I shudder.
I pass through the crowd, getting bumped into once in a while as I make my way through the school entrance.
No one is in the hallway.
"You're not supposed to be in here without a pass!" a teacher walks towards me, shaking her walkie-talkie at me.
I say nothing and begin to walk back to where I came from.
"Young lady, please apologize!"
I name her psycho lady.
Psycho lady taps her foot impatiently, crossing her arms. I bow in a form of saying 'sorry'.
Before I reach the door the bell rings. I sigh and turn around.
"Exit the building and then come back in," psycho lady says.
I frown and step out against the flowing crowd, and then go back in.
The psycho lady has already left.
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The wall posts the homeroom number by last name. I climb two flights of stairs to enter Room 342.
I enter the class with a few students looking at me. I don't like being stared at, so I take a seat near the back. The teacher in the meantime takes attendance.
"Welcome students. . ." she mutters while looking the paper.
My hand uses the pencil to scribble random doodles on the paper. I am surprised at the teacher's slowness.
"Rin?"
I raise my hand to show I'm present.
"Let me see your face, don't be shy," she says.
I look up but she has returned to her roll.
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"Algebra I review," my teacher clears her throat and writes on the board. "I hope you remember the slope-intercept form is ax + b =y." She doesn't wait for a reply. "Good. Variable 'a' is the slope and 'b' is the y-intercept, yes?"
A few students nod.
"What bright students we have this year!" she exclaims. "Now, the standard form is y=a(x1 + x) + b. . ."
I try hard not to fall asleep.
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Apparently, my Biology teacher has this thing with hair.
Her hair reaches to her shoulders, but so do her bangs. You can barely see her eyes through the raven locks.
"Welcome, students!"
How many times have I heard that today?
"I knew taking IPC was pointless. . ." the girl next to me mutters. I conclude she is a sophomore.
You take IPC freshman year to help you in Biology. Some students take it, some don't.
"I need you all to read this safety guidelines sheet and sign it. Your parents must sign this, too," she hands papers to us.
I pale.
My stomach twists and turns; I feel the need to vomit, but I put on a mask of emotionless feelings on me. The girl glances at me, but I don't say anything.
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The rest of my classes brush by quickly. I hold my lunch sack to my side and look for a place to sit in the cafeteria.
Most of the groups are sitting together; I don't want to join them, nor do they don't offer me seats.
Barely anyone is in the courtyard, so I decide to sit in a corner. My stomach is still upset and I just chew on my nails.
It's a habit; it's hard to stop.
A few couples are together on the other side, wrapped in each other arms. I close my eyes and realize how alone I am in this world.
When I open them again, I realize the students have disappeared.
I figure out the reason why.
A boy with deadly amber eyes has entered the scene.
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