"What's wrong with your face?" Marrie Baker's words startle me awake.

"What?" I ask, taken off guard.

"Your face."

"I was asleep," I reply, collecting my crap once I notice the bell is about to ring.

"Who the hell sleeps with their eyes open?!"

Bitch, I do, I want to say, but I can't get in any more trouble. Besides, I don't have time to be in trouble right now, not when I'm dealing with all this other crap.

"I'm so happy you've enjoyed looking at my face. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Marrie's eyes shift around to make sure no one heard me.

"Freakin crazy," I hear her mumble under her breath as the bell rings.

I get up and head two rows forward just to sit back down. I have five minutes to kill, so I pull out some popcorn to snack on that I nabbed from the counselor's office earlier. I watch as the popcorn sprinkles around me.

"Vel," Mr. Dwyer says in his casual perturbance, "How many times do I have to tell you not to eat popcorn in here! People dissect shit on these tables."

"You know, Mr. Dwyer," I begin, stuffing more into my mouth. "If you kept me in the same seat both periods, I wouldn't be up here annoying you."

"You know, Ms. Shamrock, if you passed all your classes, then you wouldn't have to bother me two periods in a row," Mr. Dywer replies as he rolls around in his chair to pass out the bells, too lazy to get up. That's why I like him. I appreciate some old fashioned laziness.

"Fair point, BUT, you do choose the seating charts, so..."

"Here," Dwyer says, throwing the rest of the paper stack at me. "I put you up here because you can't get along with anyone."

"Why can't I sit alone in the back?" I ask, wiping my oily popcorn hands all over the bells.

"I can't force you to socialize, but I can make sure you don't avoid all human interaction."

"Shots fired," I say, returning to my seat. "Hey," I continue, "you always seem to know weird stuff."

Dwyer looks interested as he rolls closer. "Your point?"

"Do you know anything about sleep paralysis?"

"Sleep paralysis?" he asks as Mike Newman bumps his chair.

"Hey, man. A little respect!" Dwyer calls.

"Sorry," Mike mumbles, without looking up from his phone.

"Ever heard of phone paralysis?" Dwyer continues, crossing his arms.

"Is that even a thing?"

"Not a thing but a BIG MOOD, where humanoid teens can't move or participate in everyday life because they can't get their snotty noses out of their PHONES!"

Did he just say BIG MOOD?

"Dywer, I'm shook, you right here right now are, in fact, a BIG MOOD."

"Damn right Shamrock," Dwyer says amused then continues, "Why in the world are you asking about sleep paralysis?"

Because I keep waking up every night at the same time and can't move, oh, and maybe because I watch myself leave my body but then can't remember anything after that.

"No reason."

Dwyer points his finger at me and turns his head suspiciously to add, "Have you been playing around with the Devil's lettuce?"

"Can't you just call it weed like everyone else?"

"Devil's lettuce," he insists as he rolls back to his desk to stand reluctantly.

"Hey, about the sitting alone thing...there's a new student today so..." Dwyer shrugs, turning to walk into the hallway.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"Hey Gingy," a voice calls from behind me.

I don't even have to look to know who it is. Cece Bundt. Yes, her last name is Bundt. And no, we never bonded over having horrible last names. We've had a mutual dislike since preschool. But equally, mutual respect for our commitment to hate each other.

"Yes, Bundty," I say, turning back. Her perfectly straight, blonde hair always seems to mock the red mess, always spilling into my periphery.

"Did you see the moving truck over the weekend?"

As the words come out of her overly glossed lips, I feel the pang in my gut.

"I didn't know you sold that trash pile," she continues, shaking her head a little too vigorously. "My mom said the new owners came down to her office to pick out flooring. Looks like someone is finally going to clean up that dump. Truly, it's a service to this city."

I'm going to punch her. I'm going to punch Cece Bundt in her Bundty face. But, out of the mutual respect of our hate, I decide not to.

"That's weird," I say, holding my thumb straight out.

"What's weird?" Bundty says, eyeballing my hand, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I've never noticed before, but when I hold my thumb out and close one eye," I say, leaning back and squinting, "your head is literally the shape of my thumb. Maybe I should start calling you thumb-head."

Laughter emerges from nearby tables as Cece seethes.

"Settle down teenies. You got five minutes," Dwyer calls, entering the classroom.

I happily turn to look down at my paper. I don't care who you are, that was funny. But, her words still linger in my mind. New floors? I grew up crawling on those floors. Mom and I —and even Maeve—painted our toenails on those floors. I've spilled so many things on those floors: spaghetti, chicken noodle soup, rice, ice, dice. Those are my floors. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as it all hits me.

Pull yourself together. Pull yourself together. BIG GIRL PANTIES!

The wafting of paper draws my attention. I look up to see some kid facing Dwyer and fanning a blue schedule in the air. This must be the kid I'm going to have to sit next to. Great. I analyze the back of his head. Dark, clean-cut hair, olive skin—that's interesting, wrinkled plain t-shirt (it probably says some dumb logo on the front), straight leg, washed jeans—okay, the jeans aren't bad, and Nike shoes. He seems lamely average like every other guy in this school except a medical bandaid on the back of his forearm. My eyes return to the swishing paper making annoying air waves. A paper swisher, I bet he's a damn pencil tapper too. Dwyer points to the empty seat next to me as the kid turns around.

Holy shit. It's the dumbass who hit me this morning. As soon as his eyes meet mine, they widen more than humanly possible as he jumps back, sending crap flying off Dwyer's table.

"Are you okay?!" Dwyer asks, helping the kid up.

Everyone's eyes dart to the kid, who looks like he's in the middle of a stroke.

"No, no, no," he mumbles.

What the hell is he looking at? It can't possibly be me? I look over both shoulders, only to realize that he is, in fact, staring directly at me.

"Jesus, what's wrong?!"

"Her...I...Is this real?" The kids continues to squirm against Dwyer's hands.

"Listen, kid. It's Jin, right? I don't know who you're talking about."

"Red Lady!" He screams while pointing a shaking finger directly at me.

Dwyer's annoyed face instantly shoots in my direction as the quiet concern from the students is quickly overtaken with laughs, Cece's high pitched squawk leading the chorus.

"Oh, you're a funny guy," Dwyer says, shaking his head. "Head down to Mr. Hunderk's office. You need to go back over our school's social contract." Dwyer drags the wide-eyed freak to the door, and once there, he literally runs out of the room.

What in the actual hell just happened?

"Quiet down!" Dwyer yells as laughs linger around me.

"Holy shit Gingy, what'd you do to him? You scare him off with your fire crotch?!" Cece whispers up to me.

If looks could kill, I would let loose my laser beam eyes on Cece Bundt right now. But we all know looks can't kill. So instead, I stand, and with one quick swoop, I dump the remainder of my popcorn over Cece's head.

"Dwyer!" Cece yells as she recoils in disgust.

"Damnit, Vel, out!"

"I want to press charges!" Cece squeals as I happily grab my stuff to leave.

"For Christ sakes Cece!" Dwyer yells as I head out the door. "Popcorn isn't going to kill you!"

I get into the hallway to see the new kid still running down the hall towards the office. I don't know what the hell just happened, but judging by the way he looked at me, he legit thought me and my red hair were going to kill him.

*Dear readers, please don't forget to take a second to vote :) -Barbara