"THIS MONTH, we gonna get us a new stove."

     "But then Angel was all like, I don't know what you're talking about. I told her never to--"

     "Brand new? Where'd the money come from?"

     "Couldn't believe my eyes. Ain't that the stupidest thing?"

     "Doubt it."

     My ears are filled with the various small talk from students walking down the school corridors. I am not accustomed to the relaxed attitude and purposeless jibberish these students hold. I receive amused glances as I continue to follow Jagger through the maze of storage lockers, zippered bags, and textbooks. Sommer trails close behind me, notebook in hand.

     "Who's that?"

     "The one with Jaggs and his sis."

     "Seen him before?"

     Being able to keep my focus on Jagger's face rather than turning to face the students exhibits my absolute strength. I am terrified, my abdomen twisting in knots.

     However, I am greatly intrigued by the set-up of this learning institution. It is significantly smaller than what suits my expectation, and is, as I expected, in poor condition. The tiles on the floor are chipped and missing in numerous places, the walls punctured here and there, stains, cobwebs, chewed gum and rubbish speckled against the walls and floors.

     A ringing signifies that classes have officially begun. We reach a classroom, lined with outdated chalkboards and plastic chairs with wooden flat surfaces attached to them, profanities carved into the wood. Jagger sits on the tabletop, putting his feet on the chair. Sommer and I take a seat near him.

     "Hey, Jagger!"

     A boy approaches us. His hair reflects an exotic ocean fish; patterned with yellow, teal, orange, and red.

     "Sommer." He nods in her direction. She returns a small wave.

     "What's up, Ace?"

     "Oh I'm fine, just fine," he says brightly, casting odd glances in my direction. "Where's Titus at? He coming today too?"

     "Dunno. Haven't seen him yet." Jagger looks around, cooly. Students continue to file into the classroom.

     "Jagger! Sommer!"

     An excitable girl, short pink hair, piercings outlining her entire ear on the shaved side of her head, bounces toward us. I sit stiffly. The chains on her ear chime; I fear they will become tangled.

     "I haven't seen you guys in forever! And..." She squints at me curiously.

     "This is Lex. He's our--"

     Simultaneously, Jagger and I say "cousin" and "friend". Jagger glares at me briefly.

     "Uh--Cousin's friend," he speaks. "He's a family friend."

     She continues to look at Jagger and me with great suspicion.

     "Does Titus know?" she whispers, bringing her hand to her mouth.

     "What?" Jagger brings his face to his palm. "No, it's not like that."

     "Sommer! Jagger! Titus!" Yet another loud and eccentric individual approaches us. When she sees my face, her expression alights with shock.

     "You're not Titus!" She turns to Jagger, pointing at me. "Who is this?"

     "He's a friend. A family friend."

     I glance at Sommer, who giggles ceaselessly at the commotion.

     "What's your name?" one of the girls asks me. I rise slowly.

     "I am--I'm Lex. Nice to meet you all." I smile uncomfortably. They continue to stare as though I am of a different species.

     "I thought he was Titus at first too," the boy breaks the silence.

     "Isn't the hair a dead giveaway?" Jagger speaks comedically, remaining composed.

     "I'm sure that's Titus' jacket."

     "I thought he dyed it."

     "Why is he here?"

     "I like the hair though."

     "It's different. Looks natural?"

     A small crowd has gathered around us. I feel many fingers sliding across my scalp.

     "Kindly cease the physical contact," I speak without thought. They all step away, staring with no recognition as if I have spoken a foreign language. Jagger laughs awkwardly.

     "He's just kidding," he says. "Aren't you, Lex?"

     I return his alarmed glance.

     "Haha--Yeah," I say this with too much enthusiasm. They do not appear convinced. "Haha. What's your na--"

     "Who are you and why are you wearing my clothes?" an unknown voice speaks, distracting the crowd from my mishap. I am silently relieved. We rotate simultaneously to face him.

     "I've been looking for that jacket everywhere..." he trails off.

     The boy, I assume Titus, is near the same height as I, his hair bleached to a shade of light gray, a plug piercing through his left earlobe. He wears tight black jeans like the ones I have borrowed from him, along with a loose cotton shirt. He is less intimidating than Jagger, that is certain, however, I remain fearful of his presence, unsure of his actions. His expression quickly changes from curious to appalled; he gapes at me. His dark eyes twitch slightly. I stutter, looking at Jagger to explain the situation.

     "Sorry for not letting you know," Jagger speaks. "His clothes got wet in the rain, and since you guys are about the same size, I figured you wouldn't mind." He steps near him. "I'll explain later," he whispers.

     "What is this?" Titus appears hurt, or angry; I can not decipher which. Jagger senses this and becomes concerned.

     "Titus, this is Lex. He's a friend."

     The other students glance at each other, eyebrows raised, and slowly retreat without speaking.

     "It's a long story," Jagger whispers.

     "Lex?" he questions, his face grave. "No."

     "What?"

     "Metro Riverton."

     I squint at him questioningly.

     "You know him?" Jagger pauses. "Don't tell anyone..."

     "Of course I know him," Titus says loudly. He pauses, breathing to control his emotions. "What the fuck is going on," he whispers beneath his breath.

     "Titus it's nothing like that." He faces him. "I'd never hurt you like that."

     "No. That's not what I'm talking about."

     "What's wrong then?"

     "I have to go." He runs off. Jagger follows.

     Panicked, I scan the room for Sommer. She appears at my side, taking my wrist and pulling me out of the classroom.

     That didn't last very long, she writes.

     "Indeed."