Gabriel:
Tick tock goes the clock. The bell for last period is literally thirty seconds away. I watch the sturdy black hand remain immoble as Mr. Ramirez is in the middle of a Spanish lecture. Twenty seconds now. A countdown begins in my head.

"Gabriel?" Mr. Ramirez always likes to ask me a question right before the bell. Five seconds. Four. "¿Por que sueñas en mi clase?" Annoying bells sound off in my ears. Another annoying three seconds of my life.

My classmates try to leave, but Mr. Ramirez tells them to remain seated. "I'm waiting Mr. Galloway." His complexion is raw and edgy. A douche-bag haircut makes him annoying to look at without vomiting. His voice is stern and very serious. I don't think he even notices.

"Are my straight A's not good enough to allow daydreaming?" He wants me to answer in Spanish. My best friend from childhood is Hispanic. Spending nights at his house over the years has given me plenty amounts of Spanish vocabulary.

"Class dismissed," the teacher smiles. "A word, Gabriel?" Students rush out the door and go off to find their friends. I wish I had more friends. All of mine except my bus-mates graduated from high school last year. I'm a junior now.

I sit in a dirty dull-purple plastic chair. His desk is organized, relieved of clutter. A stack of neat papers and a plate with his name etched into the brass sits cleanly in front of him. Mr. Ramirez used to be in the military. He is the new Spanish teacher this year but acts like he has always been here. He's a no-nonsense kind of guy.

"Can we hurry?" I rush. "I have to catch the bus before it leaves me. Again." He made me late. All. The. Time.

"You may have favor from all your other teachers," he rants. "But you won't fool me. You're lazy and I wonder how nobody else notices." Could say the same about his haircut.

"I do my homework. I'm smart enough to memorize all the bold terms when tests come around. Out of everyone, even Bryan, who fails your daily grades, you pick on me."

Mr. Ramirez folds his hands together. "I see great potential for you. You're already a step ahead being bilingual."

"I'm gonna be late for the bus," I plead.

"Stop daydreaming. This is the real world and colleges won't put up with you zoning out."

Yeah, right. He's mad because he had to go to the army to pay for his degree. "Am I dismissed?"

He hands me a slip of paper. "A+ on your test. Go catch your bus."

I didn't bother tucking the chair away. In the hallway, teenagers hung around each other at their lockers. Some gossip, some laugh, some walk quietly together. Surprisingly, no cliques really stand out. My school is sort of chill compared to what I know about other schools in the area.

I haven't encountered a bully yet, and I'm what some might call a nerdy guy. Maybe people don't see me as a nerd. Maybe I'm just "that smart kid in class." Either way, I am not complaining. I hold my A+ in my hand and wad it up into a ball. Arching my arm, I fling the paper at the trash can. Miss terribly. Miss Linda, the oddly happy janitor, picks it up for me. "Keep practicing MJ." She makes me laugh.

I stop by my locker, 429, to stuff my bag inside. It makes me think about video games where you store loads amounts of items in small spaces. How many random items can fit in here? Guess I'll find out by the end of the school year.

"Gabriel," Mister Ramirez calls. "The bus?" Oh crap! Slamming my locker, people cheer me on as I race outside. I feel like a superhero, running with super speed to save someone that could be dying; like the world couldn't live without me!

The first two big yellow limos drive away. Luckily, my bus is the second to last one to leave. My driver, Mister Charles, knows I'm always late. He smiles as he pulls the lever to open the door. Smiles because he has to, not because he wants to. "Gabriel," he nods.

Only five kids sit on the bus from this school. We still have to stop by the middle school, and then the dreaded evil primary school before we can even begin to go home. This bus is so peaceful before all the little kids get on.

Marcus and Angelica sit in the far back seats. I sit in front of Marcus. There's a deep hole in the seat in front of me. Penelope sits across from me. Mary sits in front of Penelope. I suppose you could say we are all friends.

"Ramirez talk to you again?" Marcus asks. "That man crazy dude." Marcus is an African-American. He's on the varsity football team, and he's super nice. Or, at least, nice to us. He's in my cooking class this year. Four people per kitchen and every girl wants to be in his group.

"Yeah," I frown. "Wish he would back off." I lean my head against the window. How gross is this window? Finger prints smear and cover the glass. They're my fingerprints. Whatever, school is exhausting.

Our bus is ancient and run-down. It breaks down at least three times a year. The buses that have more kids on them have newer models with AIR CONDITIONING. We have the windows plucked down and it's still hot as balls! Did I mention I live in Texas?

"Ramirez can kiss my ass!" Angelica says loudly. You would think she's yelling at you, but that's actually her normal voice. That's who she is. She's a little overweight, but has a great sense of humor. I think the coolest thing about her is that she loves her family more than anything because she always talks about them. "Like he always gettin' on to people."

Our bus pulls out of the schoolyard. On our way to Hell and Hell: Stage 2. Some of those little kids are so perverted for five-year-olds. I hate the school bus, but my parents both work odd hours. Yay me.

"Oh my goodness." Mary raises over her seat and turns to Penelope. "You should be so glad you don't have him for Spanish this year. I mean, he's kinda hot, but his attitude. . . Totally not cool."

Mary is sweet, a little ditsy, but not stupid. She has short ruby red hair that barely goes below her ears. Everyone compliments on her appearance because she's always wearing vintage dresses from the 1940's, and wears sunshades when the sun's out. It's 2017, but you have to admit that 1940's dresses are still in style when someone classy wears them. I mean, I think Mary is classy.

"You're so strange," Penelope laughs. Penelope has auburn hair tied into a ponytail. She wears bulky shirts a lot, but when she rolls her sleeves up from the Texas heat, I can see her muscles plain as day. Muscles so ripped that I think even Marcus wouldn't win an arm-wrestle match between them. I think Marcus knows too because he never picks on her like the other girls.

She's holding her side but still making a full effort to hold a conversation. My bus-mates think her parents beat her or something. Almost every other day she will have a scrape or a bruise somewhere. She tries to tell us that she's clumsy and falls all the time. Ever since she became my neighbor last summer, I have never seen her fall, and not even once be clumsy. She's a bad liar. I haven't told the others what I know though.

"I know I'm strange!" Mary giggles. "Damn proud!"

"Good to hear," Penelope says. "What's everyone doing tonight?"

"Eating out with my family," Angelica shouts. "My cousin's quinceañera is next week and we are having an early celebration!" Angelica is so cool.

"Hey, that's awesome," Marcus praises. "Tell her congrats for me. Think I'm gonna go out with my buddies tonight. We got a game tomorrow. Can't party too hard."

"I'll be there to cheer you on!" Mary cheers. Oh yeah, Mary is also head captain of the cheerleading squad. "The Bastlecount Pirates will have ye walk da plank on da mid summa moon! Argh har ar!" A surprisingly good impersonation of a pirate.

"How bout you, Gabe?" Marcus asks. "What do you do on a Thursday night?"

"I really don't do that much," I say truthfully. "I play video games with my friends. Eat. Sleep." This is the first time I've actually told my friends what I do on an average day.

"I like video games," Marcus smiles. "Xbox or PlayStation?"

"I like both, but I only have an Xbox."

"That sucks. I got a PlayStation or I would play with you sometime."

"That's okay," I laugh. "I'm a nerd."

"Being a nerd doesn't make you uncool," Penelope acknowledges.

"Totally!" Mary pipes in. "Labels are for people who think they are above everyone else." My bus-mates are so nice. I'm lucky to have them as friends. Squeak! Oh no, the bus is stopping at Hell: Stage 1. A chorus of angels--. Sorry, I mean a chorus of hellions charge the fortress. Screams of anarchy drown out the peaceful silence that used to be the front of the vehicle. "Highway to Hell," Marcus sings quietly, tapping on the back of my seat.

"No kidding," I murmur. A reflection of a boy stares back at me in the window. Bright blue eyes reflect the sun's radiant beams of light. Messy black hair is pulled behind his ears. A big nose juts out like a swordfish. Do I really look this strange? Hell: Stage 2 is even worse. Paper drawings are fired to the back of the bus. We learned not to open them. Most of the time, they say "your mom" and had a stick figure with boobs. Real mature.

My bus-mates quietly remain to themselves throughout the trip. "Hey, Penelope," I yell over the screaming devils. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Mister Charles begs the children to quiet down. Thankfully, the fifth or so stop is when me and Penelope get off the bus. Too bad we are on stop number two.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Oh! Finishing my homework and then resting. Been such a long day."

Squeak! Geez, the brakes on this bus are annoying. Stop number three. "That's cool. If you ever want to play basketball or something, knock on my door. I'm like, always home."

"I will, thanks," she says. "I'm just so tired today." Penelope is super attractive and awesome, but she's also quiet and shy. I never see her hang out with anyone. Mary is pretty hot too though. Do I think every girl is hot? Are my hormones raging again?

Stop number four. You would think that after living in Texas heat for seventeen years, you would be immune by now, but no, the sun still melts your face off. The windows are pulled down, but the wind doesn't feel pleasant. Hot air slaps me in the face, and the moisture from the humidity makes it a little hard to breathe, especially inside this musky yellow prison.

Stop number five. Pete is on today. Sometimes Pete is a car rider and we get to skip his stop. Is it bad that I hate when he rides? Pete doesn't seem so bad. I only hate where he lives. We have to go down a long, bumpy, uncomfortable, dead-end dirt road to drop one kid off. This road could low-key be in a horror film.

Finally, stop number six. I see my neighborhood through the glass: Mayline Pines. It's a residential area with a closed off gate for privacy. Many of the homes look similar, but my mom has a weird fashion for brick houses. She jumped through a lot of hoops to own the only brick house on the lot.

Penelope and I squeeze by the little imps and arise from Hell! I hear the shrieking screams as the bus pulls away. "See you tomorrow," I say, waving bye to Penelope. She waves back and we depart.

My mother is Georgia Galloway, a brilliant woman. She wasn't a grade-slayer in high school, but she studied hard and finished medical school. The local hospital hired her as a medical physician and she is gone almost twelve hours everyday, sometimes more.

My dad is Josiah Galloway, a true firefighter that I'm proud of. He actually ran into mom a lot at the hospital when his squad would rescue people and take them in with the EMT ambulance. That's how they met, and they both still love what they do. I think that's why I want to grow up to be a superhero one day. I have two living and breathing right in front of me.

Sadly, they are both at work right now. Dad should be home tomorrow. We never know about mom. I heat up a hot pocket and turn the TV on. Of course, the news channel is on. My dad loves watching the news when he's home.

"An attack on the Bastlecount, Texas Police Department last night makes the citizens question, 'Is this city truly safe?' Back to Robbie for more info."

An attack on the police department? How strange. Beep. Beep. Beep. Hot pocket is done. Ever notice how every alarm is in threes? School bell: three rings. Microwave beep: three beeps. Fire alarm: three loud concussive blasts every three seconds.

I stride back into the living room and sit down in the recliner. "--what appears to be an invisible figure or something like a ghost." The video footage is super blurry. The lighting is very dark and I can barely make out what's even a person on the screen. It's much harder to tell with the stupid news banner running across the bottom.

As the video continues, one clean shot of the ghost is visible as it takes flight to the ceiling. A mass of dark red is covering the body. Scary scarlet eyes look down upon the police. A luminescent red glow pulses around the humanoid figure. "What a shocking discovery, indeed," Robbie says. "Chief Shiefman, any word on the matter of what happened last night?"

Chief Shiefman is the chief of police, but very old school. He doesn't like technology and he tries his best to solve matters without violence. What's left of his blonde hair is covered with a police hat. A hairy yellow caterpillar rests on his upper lip. His face looks rough, probably from his stressful job. He stands tall and professional to announce what he has to say.

"I am truly not at liberty to reveal any details on the matter in question right now. I want the citizens of Bastlecount to know you are all safe. This was an attack against us, not against the people, and I am sorry for the fear that some of you may have. We will try our best to catch the criminals behind this heinous act, and look into this mysterious specter. From what I have deducted, the mysterious entity was not harmful to my men, and appeared to be protecting my men. In light of this, we still need to question where its loyalties lie. That is all, thank you."

"Mysterious specter, what a perfect choice of words from Chief Shiefman. Now we have a recollection from one of the assailants that attacked the department last night. Let's have a look."

The screen switches from Robbie to a prisoner inside one of the cells of the station. A tear is tattooed under his eye. He is shaking with fear. "I, uh, was wounded," he stutters. "Left, uh, left to die by my homies. And for the homies watching, this thing. Uh, this thing was terrifying. I tried to attack it, but my knife went right through it. I-I couldn't hit the *bleep bleep*. It's red eyes stared into my soul. I asked what it was and it whispered in my ear like some kind of freak! 'Scarlet Specter.'"

My dad would probably say it's fake. He watches the news all the time and says they change up the story. He would say this is for political or societal propaganda. I don't know what he would say about the video footage. Somehow, the human eye can tell the difference between a staged video and actual footage from a CCTV camera. The video looks authentic. Maybe not, I'm not an expert.

Ah, man, my hot pocket's already cold again. Thrown into the microwave and blasted by radiation waves, the hot pocket circles on the platter. Scarlet Specter huh. What if it turns out to be a superhero? How cool would that be? In this day and age where magic and supernatural is overlooked by science and special effects.

I take a glance out of the kitchen window to Penelope's house. Her family is eating dinner. She laughs and smiles at her dad. She spots me looking at her. Oops, I turn away fast. Don't look back. I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear. No sir. Beep. Beep. Beep. Thank goodness, my hot pocket is done. Delicious ham and cheese melt in my mouth as I walk back to the kitchen window. She's not there.

Ding dong. Was that the doorbell? Nobody ever rings the doorbell. I peek into the peephole. It's Penelope! Oh gosh, what do I do? Don't open it. She doesn't know I'm home. All the lights are still off.

Ding dong. I patiently wait. "Hey, I don't know if you can hear me." She thinks I'm a stalker. "I wanted to invite you over for dinner. My family's cool with it. Um. . . You may not hear me because I know you play those games with your friends and probably have your headset on or something. Um, yeah. Anyway, um."

*Hello everyone, if you want me to continue writing this awesome story idea I have or enjoy the characters, please comment, like, or keep reading. I appreciate the encouragement*