I was planning on going to a basketball game, taking the school bus home because Dad was at the hospital as usual saving someone's life. He's a surgeon and a workaholic. Though he did promise to make it to the game after he finished the op. 

The bus was full of morons. I pressed my headphones into my ears, but it didn't help much. I could still hear their moronic yelling. The song I was listening to was Caught In A Flood With The Captain Of The Cheerleading Squad by I Hate Myself, an indie rock emo band that did one album in the nineties. There was screaming and screeching in places, but it couldn't compete with the lunatics sitting behind me. 

"That so isn't true!" one of the morons shouted. 

"It so f*cking is!" another shouted back. 

They were right behind me, drinking cans of Monster and bellowing about some incident involving a drunk girl, a horrendous road accident and DUI. I sat quietly, tapping my converse shoes, my legs in their drainpipe jeans pressed together. My tee said Conversation With Dr Seussicide, another song made less than famous by I Hate Myself. 

A scrunched up wad of booger tissue hit me in the back of the head. 

"Hey, emo dude! Wasn't your dad in the OR when they amputated both that girl's legs?" 

One of the morons recognized me. His name was Chip and his father worked as a hospital porter. 

I shrugged off the tissue that had caught in my short brown hair, popped my headphones and turned around. 

"He was. It was a seven-hour op. They had three orthopedics - " 

"I don't need all the grisly details, shitface!"  

Chip was being his usual mean self. Just like the last time he had harassed me. I'm the only emo in my school and so I'm an easy target for any knuckle-dragging thug who wants to prove what a big tough guy he is. Plus the fact that my Dad's a doctor makes some of them think I'm smart. I'm not, though I am a bit of a geek. 

Anyway, that time Chip cornered me in the locker room after basketball practice and pressed his arm up against my throat, demanding I help him with an English assignment or he'd beat my lights out. It was disgusting. His breath smelled like dead lizards marinated in cat turds. 

I slunk back in my seat, letting the morons continue with their meaningless argument, and was about to put my headphones back on when I noticed her. She was standing at the front of the bus, having just clambered aboard, and was looking around for a seat. The boy sitting nearest to her put his bag down on the seat beside him, and others who were sitting by themselves scooted to the edge of their seats. Some mean girls sitting at the back - cheerleader types - snickered. They loved seeing a new girl humiliated. 

The new girl gave a sigh and began walking down the aisle. She looked beaten and defeated already, accepting her role as an outcast. She also looked - to my eyes - unbelievably hot. 

To everybody else she must have looked the opposite. She was gangly and awkward, wore black leggings in the middle of summer, and her hair was blotchy - red in places and blond in others. It looked like a weave from the Goodwill discount bin. She wore a man's check shirt that hung almost to her knees, and tell-tale scarves were wrapped around her wrists. 

I say tell-tale because, as well as being the only emo, I'm the only boy in school who cuts himself, and I have a welter of criss-cross scars on my left arm to prove it. Wearing scarves on her wrists was a sure sign that she was a cutter, too. 

The girl gawked at us seated kids through black Ugly Betty glasses. No one would give her a seat. She started moving toward the back of the bus, right into the moron/mean girl area. The snickering grew louder, following suggestive remarks from Chip and his buds, and I had a horrible sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what was going to happen to that girl. 

The bus lurched forward and the girl was projected halfway down the aisle like a human cannonball. There was a moment of absolute silence, then a great gust of laughter from the morons and mean girls. The girl blushed to the roots of her crazy hair as she staggered to her feet. 

There was nothing else to do, so I did it. She looked so gorgeous, so emo, I just had to shift up in my seat to make room for her. 

"Sit the fuck down!" I hissed, trying to sound tough and nonchalant at the same time. 

"What? Oh, thanks." She smiled a row of tombstone teeth at me. Perfect! Oh god, she's perfect! 

The girl sat down, uncomfortably next to me. I say uncomfortably, not just because sitting in the cramped seats of the boneshaker bus was uncomfortable, but because I found myself embarrassed by my problem.  

I have a problem that I don't like to talk about, but now I suppose I must. Watching this - to me - stunning emo girl approach me, I started becoming aroused and, as on many a previous occasion, I was unable to conceal the erection stretching the material of my skinny jeans. 

The girl noticed the pyramid rearing up between my legs, gave me an alarmed look, and began staring out the window. Even when the bus slammed over potholes and ruts in the road and we all had to cling to the armrests of our seats, she didn't shift her gaze. 

Meanwhile, I coped as best I could with the pyramid that was rapidly morphing into the Rock of Gilbraltar and was really straining the denim of my jeans. 

Even so, I couldn't help smiling to myself. At last, there was another emo in my school and she was a goddess!

This chapter was written in response to another Wattpader's story and I helped her develop the character of Blake. No more Blake chapters are likely to be written.