Yeah, I know, a kick on the shins is not the most usual way to start a friendship. So what? Even if Jen's next step were the words 'Hey, what's up, freak?', so what? She's a very special kind of person. And after we became friends, she only ever kicked other people, and only if they got on her nerves (which tended to happen rather a lot). If it hadn't been for Sandra, her, and Anastasia, I don't know what I would have done – though continuing on a futile search for snipers would probably have been at the top of my list.

Coming out of my reminiscences, I jumped off the cable cart only a few blocks away from Salesian. With a last wave at the grumbling Enrique, I dashed off in the direction of my church turned school. Not that I cared how late I was for school now that I had escaped my mother's culinary clutches. But there were other people's feelings to be considered, daft as they might be.

The three of them were waiting for me in front of the left of the two huge white towers. Jen, Sandra and Anastasia. My only friends in this place, ever since Jen had introduced herself to my lower legbone several years ago.

“Hurry!” Sandra called anxiously. “We'll be late for class!”

“Now why,” Jen asked in a voice dripping with boredom, “should that make anybody hurry?” Leaning against the white outer wall, she stuck her forefinger in her nose and turned it a few times. Apparently, she found what she was looking for in there, because she pulled it out and examined it with interest.

I came to an abrupt halt and held my sides, panting. “Sorry,” I wheezed. “Felt sleepy... trouble waking... time just flew by...”

“Time is just an illusion of the mind,” Anastasia remarked, staring off into the far distance. Or maybe into another realm. Or perhaps she was having visions of the future. Who knew with her. “There is only the now, the infinitely short moment of the present. Whenever it is upon us, the past is just a distant memory and the future hidden behind a veil.”

“Except for those with second sight, of course?” Jen asked, smirking and rolling her eyes. She snipped her snotty discovery away into the road. I hoped it wasn't inflammable, or at least not illegal. I had never actually caught her snorting drugs, but hey, she was Jen. She didn't get caught doing something illegal, she was far too clever for that. Her studs jingled, as she pushed herself away from the wall.

“Of course,” Anastasia confirmed. “Those with special sensitivity to the messages of...”

“Guys?!” Sandra's voice was pleading. “Class? Please? Now?”

I rolled my eyes. Sandra had definitely gotten her geek sign, right after birth. It was huge, blinking, and simply not to be overlooked, supported by her huge horn-rimmed glasses and her blue. knit sweater.

“Okay, okay.” I skipped past the aged security guard at the entrance to the chain-link fence inclosure around the school grounds and pushed open the side entrance to the school. Sandra was right at my heels, with the other two of our little gang lagging behind, not quite so eager to get to class – Anastasia probably because she was admiring some speck of dust floating in the air, and Jen because she couldn't care less how late she would be.

A nerd, a punk, a freak of nature and a pseudo-psychic – all friends? Okay, I guess that requires some explanation. Unfortunately, I don't have one. As mentioned above, I have no Idea how the four of us became friends. Sandra has a theory though. She has a lot of those. Theories, I mean. She even came up with a name for our little gang: she calls us the 'residual quantity'. Don't ask me for the details, but her theory goes something like this: in math, which for some reason is Sandra's favorite subject, everything that isn't part of a group such as the jocks, the cheerleaders, the chess club, the class principle's board, the church choir or the Warcraft club, is part of the residual quantity. The leftovers, so to speak. So that's who we are. The leftovers of the school, friends with each other because nobody else would want to be friends with us. What a very encouraging thought. Thank you, Sandra.

The entry hall was quite cold after the warm sunshine outside. Before running up the stairs, I grabbed Sandra's backpack and slung it over my shoulder, in addition to my own. Despite being a head shorter than her, I had a lot more muscle, both in my arms and in my legs. She threw me a grateful glance as we hurried up towards the classroom.

“Thanks.”

I grinned. “Hey, you're late because you waited for me.”

In spite of my heavy load I soon left her far behind me – which was good. I had to do something before class she would surely disapprove of. When I reached my locker on the way to the classroom, I stopped and opened it as quickly as I could. Impatiently, I stuffed most of my textbooks into what little space remained inside – little, because most of it was taken up by other books. An entirely different kind of books. Books which, if my mother had found them in my room, she would have thrown in the dumpster faster than I could say heywaittheybelongtome!

I threw a quick glance at the cover to make sure I had the right one. Oh yes, there was Lord Ellard, and there was the mysterious french beauty with her big... well, it was the right book. I tucked it into my pocket just as Sandra rounded the corner. Before she could get a glimpse at its contents, I slammed the locker shut.

“I just had to get something for class”, I said. “Let's go.”

We reached the classroom just five minutes after the bell had rung. For me, that was actually pretty early. I threw Sandra her backpack, and she almost collapsed under the weight.

“Thanks... again,” she wheezed.

I grinned. “No problem.”

She pushed the classroom door open with her shoulder while clutching her backpack in her arms like a newborn babe. Entering after her, I saw her face redden at the disapproving look our math teacher Mrs Linden gave her.

“I'm so, so sorry, Mrs Linden,” she whispered. “I swear, it won't happen again.”

Mrs Linden's expression softened instantly when she recognized her best student. “That's all right, dear. It's really not a big deal. We hadn't really started yet.”

She noticed me and her gaze became steely again. Perhaps this had something to do with me being definitely not the best student. Just a guess.

“Em... well I guess... I'm sorry, too,” I said tentatively. That seemed to do the job. I hurried over to an empty seat beside the one Sandra had taken. On her side of the desk, a neat array of pencils, papers, books and various geometric devices was already arranged in perfect order. I dumped my stuff on the remaining empty space and flopped down in my chair. At that moment, Anastasia floated into the room and was rewarded with a glare from Mrs Linden.

“I apologize for being late,” she sighed. “There are many, many steps to take in order to reach this floor. I am so sorry.”

Jen poked her head in the door. “I'm not though, if anybody's interested,” she announced.

Our math teacher waved impatiently. “Just sit down!”

“Yes ma'am!” Jen snapped a mock salute. Then she sauntered down the isle with total disregard for the teacher's anger.

I have to say that of all my friends, I probably admired Jen the most. She always wore outrageously short miniskirts and had her hair cut in a way that I'd only seen once before – in a movie, on the head of an ancient Aztec priest about to make a bloody human sacrifice. Her dream was possessing a motorcycle of her own, and she used words that could make our old biology teacher Mr. Schrantz with 30 years experience in teaching sex education blush. I tried one of those out in front of my father once, and it earned me a two-week grounding.

So, all in all, she was pretty awesome. Plus, if it wasn't for her, I probably would have been picked on and humiliated my entire school life. She makes an excellent scarecrow, or should I say scarebully. Of course she was also stupid enough to sniff, swallow and inject herself with anything that could guarantee her a high or an interesting enough low. But hey, I'm her friend, not her babysitter – for which, by the way, I am profoundly thankful.

Jen took an empty chair at the desk to my left, and slammed her black combat boots on top of the desk, displaying her long, tattooed legs in the process. The guy sitting beside her seemed suddenly to have forgotten how to swallow and breathe. Jen grinned at me, and I sighed, reluctantly directing about a third of my attention to the teacher, who was rambling about some sort of pie – I had missed whether it was apple, blueberry or creme. For a few minutes I listened. But still couldn't figure out what kind of pie it was, I surreptitiously opened the paperback I had brought along under the table and became engrossed in a world of mystery, murder and romance, in which pies of any kind didn't play a very important role. It looked like it was going to be a pretty normal day in school.

If I'd only known then how wrong I was.

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Well, how was that for a third chapter? :)

If you like my story, please comment / vote and especially comment! This is my first story from the female persective, plus I'm writing about a teenager which makes things more diffucult for an old guy like me ;) So please point out anything that could be improved upon! 

Thank you :)

Cheers,

Robert