It was entirely possible that Fetch could have entered "delinquent boot camp" without that much bias, but three things happened that made her hate the place even more before getting there. 1. She had to get up at four thirty in the morning to catch the bus 2. The bus was an old, creaky junker driven by no other than Reggie Rowe, the sheriff, and 3. She and Delsin were the only people on the whole goddamn bus. It was like a slap in the face; like she and Delsin were the only fuckups in a ten mile radius.

Though she supposed the third thing wasn't that bad, because Brent's face had been totally worth it. Maybe telling him that she thought Delsin was cute was a bad idea, because Brent looked like he was going to have a heart attack once he realized it was only going to be her and "Mr. Spray tag it and bag it".

Plus, Delsin was a pretty cool guy. Once you got past the vandalism and the playboy reputation. But honestly she couldn't really talk, since she could count the amount of times she'd gone to class in the last month on one hand.

But since his brother was driving the bus for the hour long ride to Nowhere, Washington, she didn't since next to him. Partly because they kept arguing, and partly because Reggie kept calling her Abigail, which was Brent's thing, and no one else's.

Well, it had been their parent's thing too, till Fetch messed up that one time and her parents were ready to haul her in, without hearing her out or even trying to listen. No one would listen, except Brent.

Without Brent, she'd probably be rotting in a cell somewhere. He'd ruined his potential prestigious life so she wouldn't spend part of hers behind bars, and she doubted she could ever repay him for that.

So maybe he was right, that her skipping and threatening to tear the fragile box that she and Brent were hiding from their parents under, the one Brent had thrown away his life to build. Brent had once had a good future, a good life ahead of him. So she figured the least she could do was not complain.

So she was in the back of the bus, music blasting from her headphones, suitcase tucked under the seat. Her suitcase had the basic necessities; clothes, toothbrush, and a dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre tucked in the outer pocket.

Apparently she hadn't tucked the book away as well as she thought, because when Delsin came to sit near her, he grabbed the should-have-been-well-hidden book.

"Jane Eyre?" he scoffed, looking at her.

She blushed, reaching for the book back, but he kept it out of her reach. "Shut up."

"I mean, I guess I can see why you'd read it." He said, thumbing through the pages. "It's like the female version of The Catcher in the Rye."
"You read The Catcher in the Rye?"Fetch had to ask.

"He read it and loved it!" Reggie called out from the front.

"Eyes on the road, Reggie!" Delsin yelled. "We're not about to die because you like telling people I can read!"

"I'd think most people would know you can read, Delsin." Fetch said, still grabbing for her book.

"You'd be surprised. Some people see or hear about your minor vandalism and peg you as an idiot. What're you in for anyway?" Delsin asked, still keeping the book away from her.

"If I tell you, can I get my book back?"
"Maybe." He grinned.

She sighed in defeat. "Fine. I skip class. A lot. "
From the look of disbelief on Delsin's face, she knew he didn't believe her.

"Bullshit." Delsin snorted, confirming what she thought. "Skipping? You wouldn't be here for skipping."
Fetch raised an eyebrow. "Actually, that is why I'm here. Are you disappointed?"
"No, I just thought… anyway, you wanna know why I'm here?" he asked.

"I know why you're here. Now can I get my book back?" she said, once again grabbing at the book.

"I don't know… Maybe if you say please." He grinned down at her, lifting the book just out of her reach.

"Say please? What, are you five?" Fetch asked.

"I still draw on walls, so, maybe." Delsin said, still with that ever present smirk, not missing a beat.

"I hate you." Fetch deadpanned.

"No, you don't. In fact"-he moved closer to her-"I think you like me."
Fetch scoffed. "Yeah, totally. "She muttered, waiting, then lunging for the book when she thought Delsin was distracted.

Turns out, Delsin wasn't distracted. At all. He moved the book out of the way just as Fetch moved for it, causing her to land, arms stretched, in his lap.

"You sure you don't like me? 'Cause from where I am, it's looks like you like me." Delsin said.

She got up, dusting herself off. "You're a jackass, you know that?"

"I've been told. What are you listening to, anyway?" he asked.
There were several songs that could be playing from her phone, considering she had her music on shuffle. There were at least three hundred songs on her phone, and maybe ten of them were guilty pleasure pop songs. She hoped that whatever song was playing wasn't one of those ten, as she put her headphones back in her ear, to be met with the sounds of Heart-Shaped Box.

Delsin grabbed one of the earphones before grinning. "Nirvana, huh? I had you pegged as a rock chick."

Delsin stayed there, hogging the other earphone, even after the song ended, and she silently prayed that none of the three One Direction songs she had played before they got to boot camp.

And of course, One Thing just had to play five minutes before Reggie said they were almost there.
Delsin said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.
"It's a guilty pleasure, dammit!" she defended. He didn't say a word, but just shook his head slowly. But soon enough, the song changed to Come as You Are.
And maybe it wasn't all bad, sitting next to a small town delinquent and blasting rock music in a beat-up old bus.

Ahh, another week has flown by. Didn't think this needed to be said, but I do not own any of these songs, or Nirvana. Or One Direction.