THE BUS SKIDDED TO ANOTHER SUDDEN HALT AS THEY PULLED UP TO SCHOOL. The bus driver grunted once more, which was the only thing Nick had ever heard him say. It would not be an altogether too unbelievable conspiracy theory to say that the driver may have been a caveman.

Ben had been stubbornly pelting Nick with a string of one-liners the whole bus ride, and Nick had been stubbornly trying to convey her boredom without seeming too rude. Finally giving up, Nick had been puzzled over Ben’s last name, a topic which she cared more for than jokes about llamas.

“What do llamas like to drink?”

Nick didn’t have time to answer, not that she would have anyway, before Ben hurried to the punch line.

“llama-nade! Oh, here’s another one. Where do sharks come from?”

Nick refrained from saying, “their moms”.

“Finland!” Ben cried gleefully. Nick gave him a pained smile, her eyes searching for a path through the throngs of awkward, odorous, puberty-infected schoolchildren.

“Hey Ben,” she said, “try this: What makes a turtle fall asleep?”

Ben pounced on the riddle happily. “Ooh, let’s see…” but Nick had already made her getaway.

Truthfully, she had no idea what made a turtle sleep, but Ben’s puns must make the list.

Nick glanced back to make sure Ben hadn’t followed.

Running was Nick’s specialty. Not running itself; she was no good on track, but running from trouble, or from problems she couldn’t solve. It was a very useful skill, knowing how to run.

After dropping off her backpack in her locker, Nick collapsed on a last-row seat in her homeroom. She didn’t want to be seen, for the time being, by Ben.

The whiteboard displayed the new weekly quote, some cheesy words of inspiration that everyone was forced to write an essay on.

“THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER.”

It’ll certainly be quite a gross one. Nick had never liked eating slimy oysters.

“Yer in my seat.”

Nick jumped, but quickly regained posture. It was only one of the jerks, the type teachers are all too happy to call on because jerks never seemed to know anything. Nick wasn’t sure why teachers even bothered calling on those who obviously didn’t know the answer. Teachers didn’t need to bolster their ego.

“So I am.” Nick replied evenly.

“Get out.”

“I quite enjoy sitting in this particular seat.”

The jerk blinked. “I want to sit in my seat.”

“You can sit in mine.” Nick pointed to an unoccupied desk at the front of the room.

“No. I want to sit in my seat.” The jerk reached for Nick’s textbook, the closest projectile.

“Well,” Nick said, “I’ve given up my seat to sit in yours, and you’ve given up your seat, so the only way to make this fair is if you sit in my seat. This is for your own benefit.”

“But—”

“I want to sit in my original seat as much as you would like to sit in mine.”

“But—”

“So it seems that we’ve both given up something. I’ve given up my seat and you’ve given up yours.”

“But—"

“Of course, if you insist, I will return to my seat, but just keep in mind that you’d be losing my seat.”

“Um,” he said stupidly, “No. I want to sit in your seat. Don’t try to sit in it.”

“Aw man!” Nick shook her head, as if everything she was planning was ruined.

The jerk moved slowly to the front of the classroom, looking very stupid and very confused.