Buttercup walked into the school with legs like lead. She would have rather been anywhere else. Starting at a new school was bad enough, being late on her first day was mortifying. She would have been on time if bubbles hasn't missed the bus and needed a ride to the middle school. Being a good older sister wasn't worth the stress she was going through.

When she got to the room where her class should be she stood outside, unsure of what to do. If she walked in would the teacher call her out on it? Would everyone laugh at her? She sighed. There wasn't much of a choice, though, she would have to go in eventually. Knowing that didn't make it any easier. Her hand shook as she turned the handle. Everyone in the class turned to look at her.

"You must be the new student." The teacher, a tall woman with short black hair, gestured for her. "Please come introduce yourself." Buttercup did as instructed. She stood in front of the class and felt more self conscious than ever.

"I'm buttercup." She was unsure of what else to say. After a few seconds of silence the teacher nodded.

"You can take the seat by Mitch." She gestured to one of the open seats in class. It was in front, right across from the teachers desk.

Buttercup wanted to die. She was been hoping for a seat in the back where she could put her hood up and be ignored by the world. Of course fate won't grant her such a luxury.

She takes the seat with no complaint. Mentioning it would only draw attention to herself, and probably make the teacher mad. It's better for her to keep her mouth shut. Once seated she kept her head down and busied herself with writing down everything the teacher said.

"Okay class. Now we will split up into groups and compare ideas." Buttercup freezes. Groups? That's a word she hates. Oh god. She has to find a group? She wants to combust into nothing right there.

Everyone else is chattering excitedly but buttercup feels herself dying. She's embarrassed of herself, and he pulls her arms in closer. After a moment the room grows quiet. She wonders what happened, but doesn't dare look up.

A hand drops itself down on her desk. It's big, and tan. Slowly she follows the hand up an arm and eventually to a face. He's beautiful. He's so beautiful and he's looking straight at her. She suddenly feels self conscious, more so than before, and again she wishes for a swift death.

"I'll be you partner." He says. His breath is warm on her face. She glances around to see every eye is on the pair.

She wants to tell him that yes, she will be his partner, but her throat feels dry and she knows that if she tries to speak it would only embarrass her. So she nods. He nods back and then tilts his head towards the back of the room.

"My desk is in the back." He starts walking. After a few moments she stands to follow.

When she gets to his desk he's seated and there's another seat sitting across from him, waiting for her. She wonders if anyone else will join them. It looks like they're the only group of two. Everyone else is standing in groups of three or four. She doesn't mention it. It seems like they're going to be alone.

"So where are you from?" The boy asks. He's sitting back in the seat, his arm is lazily draped over the desk. Buttercup can't help but let her eyes roam over the muscles.

He coughs to get her attention and she immediately shoots her head down. Her face is hot with embarrassment. She shouldn't have been staring at his arm like that. And of course he caught her. She's so embarrassed.

"Sorry." She mumbles, not daring to look up.

"Nah." The boy laughed. "I'm used to it. I am pretty damn irresistible."

Her face couldn't be redder. She closed her eyes and prayed for a swift painless death, or even a slow painful one if it got her out of this situation.

"My name is butch, by the way." He continues. "I'm kind of a big deal around here."

Oh god. He's hot but arrogant. Of course. The two go hand in hand. She bites her lip, unsure of what she's supposed to do or say. Luckily he speaks for her.

"So are you going to tell me where you're from?" He asks.

She glances up. He's watching her expectantly. "Cityville" she answers.

"Nice." He nods. "They have a bitchin' football team. You play any sports?"

"No." She shakes her head. Does she look like she plays sports? She's barely 5 feet tall and 90 pounds at her highest weight.

"Why not?"

"I'm not good at them." She wants to cry. Why does he have to ask so many questions. Aren't they supposed to be talking about the project? She'd rather do that than discuss her hobbies and past home. She'd rather be dead, honestly.

"That's what pussies say." He responds and she can feel herself slipping into oblivion.

"Okay." She responds meekly. What else could she say? Nothing that wouldn't offend him, surely. It's easier to just end the conversation.

He laughs. "Okay? So you agree?"

Buttercup shrugs. "I don't have a real opinion." Because she doesn't play them. It's obvious by his attitude-and looks- that he enjoys sports. He's probably really good at them too.

After a few moments of silence pass she breaths out, thankful that he seems to have grown bored with her and turned his attention to something else. That doesn't last long before he starts talking again.

"Do you have any brothers?"

"No."

"Sisters?"

She pauses. "Yes."

"Nice." She looks up to see him smiling. "Do they go here?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they aren't in high school?"

"Oh. How old are they?"

Buttercup is tired of answering butch's questions. They're never ending. The bell rings and she couldn't be happier. She stands and fathers her things. Butch moves much slower. When she's scurrying out the door he's just standing from his seat.

Buttercup stops at her next class and takes a breath. She isn't late for this one. Hopefully she'll be able to grab a seat in the back and the teacher will ignore her.

There are all ready a few people in the classroom. Only one seat is open in the back, the back corner seat, and she takes it.

She doesn't get to sit in bliss for long before a girl with red puffs of hair walls in to the room and straight to her.

"You're in my seat." She says, louder than necessary. Buttercup stands quickly and apologizes. She grabs her things. The girl doesn't seem placated. She still looks mad.

"Are you new?" The girl asked. Buttercup nods and hopes that the girl will forgive her ignorance.

"God, another fucking spaz." She pushes past buttercup and takes her seat.

That's it. She has to leave. This school is nothing but anxiety and assholes. She remains frozen in the room for only a moment. Then she turns and runs out. She runs through the hallway, ignoring the yelling of teachers for her to slow down or of other students for her to watch where she's going.

She runs all the way out the doors and around the school, in search of sanctuary. She finds the football field, where she takes a seat underneath the bleachers. It's cold, but better than being inside the building. She decides that she'll wait here for a while, calm herself down, then she'll try to get to her car so she can just leave.

Half an hour later she hears grunts and yelling. She looks through the bleachers to see that the football players are lining up in the grass. That's her queue to leave.

She stands, taking a calming breath, and walked out of the bleachers and onto the track lines that surround the football field.

It's a seven minute walk back to her car. She wishes she had brought a jacket. She wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to hold in warmth. When she finally gets to her car her fingers are starting to turn blue. The first thing she does is turn on the heat.

Her fingers slowly start to that themselves out. It stings at first to have the heat on them but she knows it's a necessary pain. She closes her eyes and lets herself relax back into the seat. Today couldn't have gone any worse. She couldn't even make two whole classes. If the school calls her father she's in trouble. He, of all people, believes in the importance of education.

A sharp knock interrupts her thoughts. She jumps and turns towards her window. It's the boy from earlier, Butch. He's smiling.

"Didn't peg you as a skipper." He said. She bit the inside of her cheek. What is he doing here? "I usually stay until after football practice. But I'm heading out to get a milk shake so I'm hydrated for all the running." He's smiling. She's alarmed by how attracted to him she is. She can't wait for him to leave.

"Since you're just sitting out here, I thought I'd invite you to come with me."

A/N Sorry if it's not great. I haven't really written in a while. This was supposed to be a one shot, but it was taking too long to write and I promised for it to be up this week. Expect chapter two (which will be the last part) soon. This Buttercup is different from the way I usually write her, not sure how I feel about it. I wrote her how I felt the prompt sender meant. Please feel free to message me if you have a prompt for a oneshot you'd like me to write. I won't promise it, (Because I'm untrustworthy tbh) but there's a good chance it will be filled.

~Csouthard