Steve continued to doodle on his paper as he listened to his math teacher drone on and on about Algebra. Sure he needed to learn it, but really, could summer get here any faster? His foot tapped to the sound of the ticking clock. The sound prompted the 13-year-old boy to glance up at the clock.

8:20. They were really only 20 minutes into the first class of the first day of school. Of highschool, actually. Even worse. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking at his drawing. An eagle. The lines and shading weren't so bad, but they could be better. Steve loved to draw. It was that only thing he was good at.

He looked around the room. Some of the students were goofing off. Some of them were listening. Some of them were doodling, just as he was. Some of them were even sleeping. But they all were doing that with someone. Everyone had a group to do what they enjoyed. No one had an empty seat next to them.

Everyone had someone whisper to, or nudge in the direction of something out of the ordinary. Except Steve. The seats next to Steve were empty. Steve would sit alone at lunch time. He would walk home alone.

But he didn't mind. Steve had made it this far on his own. Why would he need anybody? He had his mother to look after him. And she worked ever so hard.

Sarah Rogers was a young immigrant from Ireland. She, just like the rest of those who moved, were trying to escape the famine that took over the small green country. Sarah spent everything she had to get to America and start over the best. she could. And she got lucky.

Once she had gotten to New York, working as a maid, she met a young, handsome American man named Joseph, who she fell in love with and married within weeks.

But he was soon sent off to fight in he Great War, where he died tragically. Joseph left Sarah with an unborn son and an immigrant status in the city of Brooklyn.

Quickly, Sarah was left with no money and when her child was born, he was quite a sick little boy. The doctor promised her that he wouldn't make it a week. But he did. As small and frail a ducky as he was, her little Steve made it through every night she was share he wouldn't. And it was the that she deemed him a miracle. She could no longer do maids work. Not with child that needed such care as Steve did.

So she toiled and worked and fought through the the bars of discrimination and became a nurse. That way, Sarah a could take of Steve both financially and physically. And with everything she had, she raised him to a 13 year old by who, even though he was small, prone to illness, and socially shunned, she was more proud of him that she was anything else.

She made sure that Steve knew his worth. That his father didn't leave them on purpose. That he would be something big in the future.

Sarah Rogers was the one person in Steve's life that didn't shoot him down. And he loved her for that.

"Class, I'm going to take a bit of a break from math to introduce to you all a new student that will be studying with us for now on. I know that we're don't usually introduce new new students on the first day of school, but I'm afraid he's late and a little public embarrassment should do him some good," Steve's teacher announced, putting her hands together after a young boy, who was tall and fit with dark brown hair a calm disposition entered the room.

He gave a wave, not really embarrassed at all. "Why don't you introduce yourself, young man. Tell us about yourself."

"Uh..." he trailed off. He wasnt uncomfortable. Just thinking. He was put on the spot. "My name's Bucky Barnes,"  he introduced. A couple kids snickered.

Rednecks were the butt of many jokes around here, but Bucky didn't look phased by that. "I... uh.. play baseball. I have a sister and a brother who are enrolled here."

"Are they older?"  the teacher asked, with her chalky hand on her skirt and leaning against the black board, crossing her arms.

Bucky shook his head. "No, ma'am, I am the oldest."

"And why did you move schools, sweetheart."

"I just moved to New York with my aunt and uncle. I used to live in Illinois, ma'am," he answered nicely.

"So why did you over from Illinois?"

A look of fear came over him. His face grew red with discomfort. But not of embarrassment. More like pain. "My ma passed away," he answered, he voice thick with sadness.

The teachers jaw dropped in surprise. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said quietly. The class continued to stare at Bucky. Steve wished they wouldn't. He wasn't sure it he should say anything, but Bucky continued to stand there until, he had to ask the teacher to sit down, because, in truth, she was in such a study of sorry that she forgot to excuse the poor boy who was trying his best to to break down and cry in from the the 28 students.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky, dear. Take a seat," she allowed. Steve heard some girls behind him.

"Poor guy," one said.

"He's so sensitive," another noted. "He's so cute."

"I'll bet he's like the rest of the guys though."

Steve also watch as Bucky went to sit by the boys that Steve would guess he'd fit in best with. The guys with letters and inappropriate jokes. The ones who a lot of the times didn't care about what matters.

But he looked up as he shook one of the big guys hands and made eye contact with Steve. Steve immediately felt it coming. This guy was just like all the others. He readied himself for another shot. "Who's this bag a' bones?" he though he might say. "Who let a 3rd grader in highschool."

But he never did. He smiled at the small young blonde gave the football player a nod as he weaved his way through the desk to come and move in to the desk to the left of Steve.

"Bucky, where are ya going. We've gotta seat up here. You don't wanna sit by him. He's always sick," the boy called after Bucky.

Bucky turned around and shrugged. "No ones sitting over here. I'll help the congestion of the room," he excused with a charming smile.

"Alright, pal," the boy in the front shrugged. "See ya at lunch?"

"Boys!" the teacher interupred. "Let's get back to algebra now."

Steve grew nervous as abuvky day donw next to him. This had to be a joke that he didn't know about yet. Bucky held out his hand to shake, but Steve only eyed it suspiciously.

"They weren't lying," he noted with a sniffle. "I am always sick."

"Big deal," Bucky said with shrug. "Shake my hand."

Steve looked around, making sure no one was there to grab his arm when he reached out or something. But he sucked it up and shook Bucky's hand.

"Steve Rogers," he introduced. Bucky smiled.

"You heard my name," he pointed out. "Nice grip, pal."

Steve didn't really know how to respond to a compliment. He hadn't really gotten one the mat wasn't from the old ladies at church and his mom.

"Uh... you too," he stuttered. Bucky only laughed and settled into his chair. Had he said something wrong? Was he just laughing or was he laughing at Steve? There was no way to know.

The day progressed and he didn't have Bucky in anymore class, which left him wondering. Was he avoiding him? Or was Steve just being paranoid. Had he actually found a friend of sorts? But he had to remind himself. Bucky was cool. He was charming. He played sports. No doubt would he fall in with the group that made so much fun of Steve.

When he finally got his mind on school, it was lunch time.it was t going to be hard to find out where he would sit. He took his brown paper bag and walked down the center on the  cafeteria on the way to the back, but he heard his name.

"Steve, over here!" Bucky called over from his table. And he wasn't just sitting with the freshmen. The table was littered with loud, chaotic lower and upperclassmen athletes. No way would Steve sit there. No way. He kept walking.

"Steve!" Bucky called again. "I've gotta seat!"

Steve huffed and made his way to sit with Bucky, his heart beating out of his chest. "Look whose coming," he heard one of the boys sat as Steve made his way over.

"I saved you a seat, Steve," Bucky called over with a mouthful of food. The table of boys snickered.

"You invited Sticks to eat with us?" one of them asked.

"You know, Bucky," Steve said. "I'm fine."

He turned to go, leaving Bucky confused.

"Damn right, Sniffles," a boys called out after him. Steve turned around, heating up.

"Hey, Roy, can't you watch your language?" he asked him. Bucky stood.

"He's right, man. There are ladies around," he noted. "And there's no need for any of this. Why do you all have to torment the guy. What did he do to you?"

Roy stood up, making himself big. "Well why don't you take you take your country ass over there and give blondie a kiss?" he asked, pushing Bucky on the chest.

Steve watch as Bucky grew angrier. He stood taller than Roy when he was relaxed, but when he tended up, he was much bigger than the jerk. "You're not gonna push me around, I promise you that. And if I have any thing to do with, you won't be messed with Rogers either."

If Roy was any angrier, steam would spill from his ears. His breath got quicker and his shoulders bowed up. And before anyone knew it, he punch Bucky square in the jaw. The force  pushed him back against the wall. He grabbed his jaw and stretched it open. But there was a look of fire in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that, Roy," Bucky said in a low growl before, reading his own fist back and throwing it straight into he boy's nose, sending him to the floor, nose bleeding. Roy scrambled to his feet, holding his fist out.

"Don't hit me again, Roy," Bucky warned.

Roy reared back to hit him again, but slowly calmed down, deciding against it. Bucky then sighed, shaking his head.

"It's just not right to pick on people smaller than you," he said, stuffing his sandwich back in his paper bag.

"Il let the little twerp sit, then," Roy grumbled.

"No," Bucky said, standing up. "Well go sit somewhere else. Right Steve?"

Then Steve was yanked out of his thoughts. Had someone just stood up for him? He could stand up for himself. He couldn't let someone do it for him. That made him even weaker... didn't it. He didn't want to say. He didn't want to accept Bucky's help. But he did. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to say. So he didn't say anything.

He just smiled an d took a big step, putting his arm around Steve's shoulders as he led him away from the toxic group of boys. "You're a little punk, ya know," Bucky noted as they say down.

"I'm no punk," huffed. "If you brought me over here to make fun of me, I'm not gonna just stand around like you think."

"No, I'm just saying that Roy never would have thrown any punches if you wouldn't have stood up to 'em," Bucky told him.

Steve shrugged. "I wasn't gonna let him talk to me like that. I wasn't gonna let him talk to you like that either, but you got to him first."

Bucky scoffed. "You woulda taken a ouch from that guy?"

Steve shrugged as he nodded. "Yeah... I would have. If it meant standing my ground and doing what was right."

They were both quiet for a moment. "I respect that, Rogers."

"Just Steve if that's alright with you," Steve told him. Bucky smiled softly.

"Nice to really meet you, Steve," Bucky said nicely as he pulled his food out of his bag and began eating.

Steve didn't know if he could eat. He was far too uneasy. It was the first time in his life that anyone had stood with him. And it felt great. He had a friend.