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Swing of the Heart

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Zacharie chose to don his cat mask, he wore it whenever he hoped to make at least one friend. He never did make many friends, even when he was back in France. He quickly picked anything that was out of the ordinary out of his hair, this was his first day at an American school. Mixed feelings of excitement and nervousness coursed through his body, packing his bag with a notepad and a few pencils, as well as some extra string just in case, like he always did. There was never a time when he didn't find drawing entertaining, and he never knew when the string keeping his mask secure would snap. He huffed, exiting his enclosure, and began walking to the bus.

He had repeated the directions in his head numerous times the night before, spending hours trying to remember so that he would not forget the next morning. He went over them once more as he walked, hoping that he wouldn't get lost. He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned the next corner, a cluster of other teens were waiting there as well. The most striking one was an extremely tall male with a baseball cap atop his head, a bag on one shoulder and a bat leaning against the other. He was standing alone, unlike the other students, perhaps he was a loner just like himself? He pulled up beside the much taller teen, swallowing, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Um, bonjour..." He didn't seem to hear, so the masked teen tried again, "Bonjour, monsieur."

This time he turned towards him. "What was that?"

Zacharie had no idea what the taller male had said, he had been led to believe it was a French speaking school, due to the name and the dialect of the website he had found when borrowing Pablo's computer.

He swallowed again, anxiety crawling up him like a huge, hairy tarantula, trying his best to recall the small amount of English he knew. "Um.. H-hello..."

"Hi," the other replied, his voice lacking any emotion whatsoever.

Names, names were the first step to a friendship. "M-my name is Zacharie."

"Batter," he responded in the same monotone voice as before. It unnerved him really.

"Do you speak French?"

"A little," was the reply.

"Does anyone?"

Batter just shrugged in response. Damn, it seemed he would have to be tutored by Pablo and Valerie.

"Merci... er, th-thank you, monsieur Batter," Zacharie told him, though he had been no real help.

When the bus came, Zacharie had been dismayed that he had not been able to find a seat that he could have all to himself, it seemed that this was one of the final stops on the route. So he simply sat next to the teen he had met at the stop, unacknowledged.

"What do you think you're doing, sitting next to him?"

A voice snapped him from his daydreaming, "Quoi?" he replied automatically.

"Get the fuck out of that seat, before he beats you to a bloody pulp with his bat, freak."
Zacharie had no idea what they were saying, though he wished he did, so he could come up with some sort of retort. Instead, he sat there in silence.
Luckily, Batter stood up for him, hissing out a reply. The girl simply scoffed and moved somewhere near the front of the bus.
He mumbled out a quick "Merci" before pulling his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.

The silence between them remained the rest of the bus ride, the voices of the other teens were fairly quiet as it was still morning.