I get up in the morning late, again, but just in time to make the bus. I sit down and play the classic game “who wants to sit with Lilly Walker” I walk by each red leathery bus seat as everyone sets their back packs up like barricades from the enemy, me.
All of a sudden a girl with bright green eyes and a hair like Christina Hendricks.
“You can sit with me!” she said almost sympathetically. Her eyes frosted. I sit there because I’m desperate.
“I’m Nicole” she smiled and put out her hand for me to shake.
“Nice to meet you Nicole,” I hesitated.
“I’m Lillian, but you can call me Lilly” I said like a huge weight had been lifted of my chest. All of a sudden my bus stopped at a school, but not any middle school, a middle school that looked like it was the size of my old town. The outer walls were beige and very bricky. The doors wooden and glossy as I walked towards them, as if they were laminated.
“This place is huge,” I said
“Yes, it is, I hear only the smartest and brightest people get into this school.”
I remembered the test I took on my black Dell computer.  I was in my old bedroom that was the size of a school bathroom, the floorboards dusty and molded, the walls the color of rotten limes. When I walked on those floor boards, they creaked. My bed creaked. Even my walls creaked. The single window let in a morsel of light. I used the window for cold air because my room was the hottest. I’d open it up to let out the smell of burning rubber from my overheating computer, the best one my mom could afford and cheap perfume I bought at Walmart to drown out the other smells in the house. There was a light switch, but my mom couldn’t pay the electric bill, so it never worked.
“The best and the brightest” I say as I snapped out of my daydream
“Then why am I here?” she chuckled after I said it.
“The struggle is real.” She said. I walked inside the school, the walls the color of sand. The floor meticulously tiled. The lockers were glossy and blueish, greenish color, and there were dials instead of locks. I wandered around unknowingly. Girls and boys my age in navy blue uniforms, and khakis. There were all talking to each other and a united as a one. This isn’t to bad I thought to myself. I tried to find my locker, it didn't work out too well. Every time I thought I found my locker. I didn’t. Finally, after an hour I thought, I finally found it. A girl with dark brown eyes, like pits, with dark curly, poofy hair stood there with her foot upon the locker. Blood was rushing to my veins as I approached her as a hunter would to a deer. I recognized this type of girl. She was either rebellious, stereotypical popular girl, or both. If I approached her I wouldn’t be the hunter; she would be. I would be the deer. This is suicide I thought to myself.
“Hi!” I said as happy as possible.
“Why are you talking to me?” she responded quickly and sharply.
“Your on my locker” I said smiling, but wishing her harm with my eyes.
“Yeah, this is my spot,”
I turned off my charm, and went to mean, quick. “Yeah, well your spot is on my locker, so you better move,” I said.
She slapped me.
“Wow, real petty aren’t you,” I say to her. This is why I left my last school.
“Hey a girl's gotta do what a girls gotta do.”
I wish Nicole was with me right now. I thought I was about to launch at her face with my fist, so hard. So hard that the petty little smug look would be wiped right off. I wished hard, I even prayed. My prayers were answered, but not the way I had imagined.
“Rose, knock it off.” the boy says. His hair brown hair is slicked back with gel in a style like Justin Bieber. His eyes are the color of the sky before a storm. His cleft-chin stands out with his bright eyes. 
“Chris, stop being such a…” she started to say until he walked away. I wanted to say thank you, but her walked away too fast.
“Whatever” she rolled eyes and walked away. I rustled into my backpack trying to find the locker combination I had received in the mail the previous day.
“I got it!” I screamed like a wild boar.
“Excited, aren’t you?” Somebody said from behind me. Immediately I felt embarrassed. Why did you have to do that Lilly? Stupid, stupid. Inside I was slapping myself upside the head. I turned around to see who it was. I swear I heard a girl's voice, but I am in 7th grade. He stood a little taller than me. His dark hair gelled and swooped to the side. I almost missed his hazel eyes that stood out among that rest of him.
“Yeah, I guess I did.” I looked at him, squinted my eyes, then smiled. He smiled back at me.
“Bryon” he said simply stating his name.
“Lilly” I told him back.
“So, you must be new.”
“Aren’t we all?” I replied. 
“Yes, that was a test.” he said looking like he regretted the awkward start. He walked over to the side of me. I was confused about what he is doing. Then I realized something his locker was right directly next to mine.
Later that day, it was lunch. It was like a jungle in there I stood awed at the behavior that kids had. At my old school this is the point where you would hold out your hand and get slapped with a ruler like the olden day. Stared at tables trying to find the table where I belong. Each table was a different clique. One was boy jock, one was girl jocks, one was mean popular girls, one nice popular girls (aka the ditzy girls), the nerds, the geeks, the fantasy nuts. Every group at a different table no one interchanging or communicating in anyway. I find Nicole luckily, of course, she has friends to sit with. I analyze each person and try to figure out what clique they are. These girls are the ones with an actual all-around personality. I use context clues to solve each girl’s name. I know Nicole. I think that one is Shayna? No, it’s Sherri. No, definitely Shayna I thought to myself. One girl at the table intrigued me. Not only was she funny, but not one of the grade obsessed, cliquey, judgmental robots that this school is known for. I wasn’t positive about her name. It was either Kim or Katie. I spent the rest of my lunch period trying to figure that out.
Back on the bus, later that day, I found Nicole, and I sat down next to her.
“How was your first day?” she asked me with the innocent, peppy cheerleader look that I swear I used to have. I thought to myself well, I got slapped, I almost beat somebody up, I got saved, hit on, and mortified.
“It was… you could say, unlike a regular.”