"Caleb?" 

"Yes?"

"I know I shouldn't worry about that guy from yesterday, but..." My sentence trails off into a long sigh.

"I think school will help you get your mind off of him." Caleb reassures me. "Well, I have to get to Spanish. I'll see you at biology." He says, then runs off to the somewhat small building holding all of the foreign language subjects.  

"But does he even go here? He doesn't seem to have any disabilities." I ask to no one in particular. 

"Well, you don't have a disability, but you still go here." 

I hold back a groan. That voice is too familiar for me to forget. The son of Mandy Chee is back. I slowly turn around. "So, you do go here?" I say, refusing to make eye contact with him, so my eyes settle on the sight of my shoes.

"I transferred here at the beginning of this week. Today's my first day actually in school, though." He briskly explains. I know he's trying to get me to look at him.

"And why do I need to know this?" I mutter. I'd rather be in history than talk to him, and I hate history. 

"The principal told me that you're gonna be showing me around. We have mostly the same classes." He replies with a voice that I can't tell is showing regret or eagerness. 

I want to argue, but I know that Principal Regorow will side with the transfer student due to his biased hatred of me. Instead I take a deep breath. "Okay, fine." I start walking to my writing class, not waiting for him.

"Hey, wait up!" The boy runs after me and soon catches up with my slow footsteps.

I sigh and lazily walk even slower. Maybe he'll get impatient with how slowly I'm going and go ahead of me. He doesn't seem to care, though. He just matches my pace.

"So, since we'll be spending some time together, I should probably get your name." The boy says, breaking the awkward silence.

"Marstzion Fralbowugurer." I mumble, just saying random letters.

"That's quite a name, Marstizion."

No, he actually believes that jumble of letters? Oh, well. At least he doesn't know my real name. "What's yours?" I ask.

"You should know my name, my mother is constantly talking about me."

"When?"

"In her interviews, of course." He says with annoyance in his voice.

"I don't watch her interviews, though."

"Fine! My name's Morrin. Morrin Chee." Morrin sighs, obviously frustrated.

I roll my eyes. How long do I have to be around this guy?