Shit, I can't believe I woke up late again!

I mumble under my breath as I step through the empty halls of Crystal Prep Academy. Brown, hazel eyes leer left and right, hoping to avoid any contact. Classes had already started and I was quite on my own I realize. I tug the backpack on my shoulder, adjusting the strap. Those who are tardy, are trouble–while not actually a saying, it's pretty much this school's motto.

Last kid who came in late, three days in a row, well... I haven't seen that particular background loner-geek in a long while, haven't I? I shiver at the thought. If that were the case, the fact I started months into the semester, and am currently on my third strike, well.

Plop, plop, plop.

Or something akin to that. My footfalls echo throughout the stretch of the vacant hall, drowning me out of my thoughts. I mutter untruths to myself to keep the mind calm, "third time in three days? 'Oh I'm sorry, I was just looking for my glasses," I fake a pout before shaking my head. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen, they suspend me?" I let out a forced snort through my nose at the notion; suspension for not showing up. I freakin' wished, man.

That'd be perfect. Hell, that'd be better than the rumor and I really was trying to look for my spectacles. Outside of the rumor part I mean, unless everyone's just trying to scare the new kid... rest easy, lavender haired nerd. With a strut in my step, I walk along, passing by lockers, and closed classroom doors, taking in the monotonous decorations. Tape must have seen a lot of use at this school. By monotonous, I of course mean: black flags, grey-silver tinsel and ol' navy blue balloons.

By tape, I mean, well, a lot of tape.

Wouldn't take much of a gander as to why; an upcoming school dance. However, as with every cliché goes, Just like high schools across the country, Crystal Prep Acad. has taken to the idea of having a split-morp in place of prom. Literally reverse prom. It's stupid as hell. Apparently, the plan for this place, 'morp' represents mutuality, equality, normality, and the mundane. So, that apparently means: no bright colors, no loud music, nothing casual, no--well, you get the idea.

Life, but the color bleeds dry.

Also something about how the girls ask the guys this time around, but that's not my problem. Fuckin' anti-prom. Not that I'd be going or anything, no. Just the idea of not having any freedom and all but be forced to conform.

It's essentially a lack of expression and an act of oppression! Something about that rubs me the wrong way.

The only reason why this school decided to jump onto the bandwagon is that Canterlot High would split the funds—hence split-morp—if we did and if only if they were allowed to come.

A large blue, white, and yellow banner pops into my head. I groan, physically.

The Wondercolts; that school is much more of a headache. Bright colors, needlessly so. Annoying student body—I vaguely remember that red-yellow-bacon-haired girl from the Battle of the Bands.

She seemed cool—everyone else, yeesh, I can do without that migraine, thank you very much. And what, didn't we lose against them? Man, I really don't care. Here I am, such in deep thought--bacon--and I wonder why I'm late to class every day. Couldn't get any worse, really. I roll my eyes as my feet finally come to stop. Economics, second period.

I open the door without remorse, like a glutton for punishment. A masochist in disguise. I gulp as I stare at my nightmares come to life. A few—by that, a lot—more people are in the room than I was used to there being. I feel a little awkward as I stare at the more-people hovering over the less-desks, and take a reverse step out of the room.

I glance up just in case I walked into the wrong Economics class. Damn vision. Seeing the plaque confirms it in large white, written-like-a-child's, ariel script font: 'Economics with Mister Dolla-Dolla Bills.' Huh, I was just thinking on how today couldn't get any worse, too. I stare into the very occupied room blankly; the abyss stares back. A lot of abysses stare back, actually and it's kind of unnerving. I gulp quietly as I re-enter the classroom. "Hey nerds," I say lamely as I throw everyone a double-digit sign of utmost peace and prosperity.

No one says anything back and it's back to being awkward for me.

I move along quietly to my desk in the far corner, only to stop and see how it's just as well occupied. By bacon--er, I-I mean that one girl that just so happened to be on my mind earlier. She spots me as I made to move towards my desk, and her arm subconsciously reaches up in a shy wave. At least I think it's subconscious, who the hell would wave at me on purpose?

I snicker mentally as I approach, "ah, hey?" I start out; she sits at my desk with her once-raised arm now clasping over her other. "Come around here often?" God, shoot me now. She laughs at my attempt at breaking the ice; it's adorable, but of course.

She shakes her head as she calms, "God no, I'm only here for the class-merger just like everyone else. The joint project, remember?" Joint project, what is she going on ab... oh. Shit, that's today?! I glance over to the calendar on the wall; coincidence, yes, marked today, of course today, and circled, why not:

Canterlot High/Crystal Prep Acad.
Class Merger
Don't forget

"Huh, neat," I mutter to myself before looking back at the seat-stealing fiend. "Right so, any reason as to why you just so happened to take m'seat of all seats?" She wriggles a little under my scrutinizing gaze—if it can be scrutinizing anyway; needing glasses and not wearing them, trying to squint at someone, for all I know I could be giving her the flirty eyes. God, I hope I'm not giving her the flirty eyes.

I am one hundred percent giving her the flirty eyes.

She doesn't say anything as she gives me a somewhat dodgy smile. I groan outward, "sorry, sorry. I'm not tryna make anything weird, I swear, it's hard to see, but I can definitely tell you're all like, 'what the heck is up with this dude,' I get it a lot." I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, and I'm rambling. Who knows why I'm rambling, but I'm rambling. Why am I a rambler? "Look, would it make it less weird if I said your hair definitely looks like bacon to me." I make a suggestive motion with my hand, her—I wanna say blue? Cyan?—eyes follow it for a second before meeting mine.

She laughs again and oh my God, she is literally a snorting angel, with bacon hair. "Okay, okay, sorry. I'm just used to guys hitting on me all the time at my school," I groan inwardly again. I totally would, too. Well, thankfully I'm not doing that. "So, what, I'm guessing you're Cake Mix, my cross-class partner?" Her hand reaches outward, in greetings, and I stare at it like an idiot.

Well, what else am I supposed to do? I didn't even know I had a partner! I shake my head, reaching outward with my own hand. "Yes'm, Cake Ready-Made Mix, and you're, ahm..." I fall silent as I realize, well not only that I have a partner, but how I don't even know partner's name. Our hands connect, fingers folding into each other as they do. A firm shake, despite my less-than firm conversational-manners, and I give an apprehensive grin, "don't recall if we've met, actually." Have we? I know I've seen her: Battle of the Bands and the, erm... Friendship Games I wanna say? "No, don't think we have," I shake my head once more.

She looks inquisitively at me for a moment before shaking her own head, "that we haven't, hehe." Her giggle sends butterflies a-flappin' in my stomach and I nod. "Sunset Shimmer, the next big up-coming director in film history!" She grins up at me and I quickly notice our hands have yet to disconnect. She just so happens to share the sentiment, "oops, sorry," she mutters outwardly with a cheeky little grin, "but yeah, remember my name. It's gonna be huge!"

I couldn't help but smile broadly, as I laughed out an "I will!"

We totally forgot we were still holding hands, somehow.

Author's Note

Dammit, how did this go from being a one-shot, to a two-piece? I need to stop trying to write romance—but-but I can't