Josh sighed as Tyler walked away. He wasn't entirely sure of what he had done or why Tyler was so upset, but he figured he wanted some space.

Josh waved to Brendon and walked into the school. He pushed through a crowd of students to reach the door. He looked like them- like an average, normal teenager. He wanted to be like them, too. He knew that he wasn't.

He could see Tyler from across the hall, talking to a group of people. Josh assumes that they were his friends. Tyler turned and met his eye, and for a second Josh thought that he would come over, but then his bottom lip trembled and he quickly looked away. One of his friends wrapped an arm around his shoulder, probably checking it he was alright. Josh took that as his cue to turn away.

After about a dozen wrong turns, he found the office. He pulled a stack of papers out of his bag and handed them to a woman that he assumed was the secretary, who slipped on a pair of glasses and began to flip through them. They were all forged, of course; his entire "life" in America was a fabricated lie. His father had ties to the best cons in Russia, which helped.

"Joseph?" The secretary read. "Are you related to Tyler Joseph by any chance?"

Josh nodded hesitantly and tightened his grip on his backpack straps. "He's my cousin."

The woman hummed and continued to read. "Oh, I'm so sorry about your parents, sweetie, but I'm sure you'll adjust just fine."

Josh nodded. "I sure hope so."

She handed him a clipboard. "Fill this in, darlin', and you're all set.""

Josh crabbed the clipboard with a tight-lipped smile. He wrote Brendon's name and number down as his emergency contact and signed the bottom. He handed it back to the lady when he was done.

"Alright, Joshua," she chirped. "Here's your schedule. You have creative writing first period with Mr Armstrong."

Josh took the piece of paper she was holding. "Thanks, Miss...?"

"Miss Campbell," she smiled.

"Miss Campbell," Josh repeated. "Thanks."

She gave him a little wave as he turned and walked out of the office. He made his way down the hall, staring at the piece of paper in his hand. Room B9? Where the hell was that?

He spent God-knows how long wandering the halls, his neck craning to look inside the full classrooms. He was beyond late, but he couldn't find his class. He wanted to ask someone, but be found himself growing nervous whenever he grew too close to another person.

At his old school, Josh was popular. Mainly because of his dad. People didn't know exactly who he was, but they understood that he was powerful. They weren't exactly scared, though. They knew that they couldn't mess with him, and they respected him, but they didn't cower as he walked by. He had been rejected guys he liked before, but others practically threw themselves at him. There was really nothing peculiar about his experience at school, other than his family.

In America, they didn't know any of that. That just saw some weird, new kid. They probably thought he was an orphan, too- he had seen American movies, and gossip, even when it was fake, seemed to spread fast at schools like Worthington High. Especially in Ohio.

"Joshua?"

The mentioned turned, confused. He spotted a small boy grinning at him. He was wearing a fedora despite being inside and waving.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Patrick," the boy said. "We have the similar schedules, so I've been told to help you around. Its kinda hard to navigate."

Josh nodded. "Alright. Do you know where room B9 is?"

"With Mr Armstrong?" Patrick clarified. "Of course. It's right this way."

He started down the hall, books in hand. Josh trailed him hesitantly and pushed his schedule into his pocket.

Patrick halted at a room with a sign that, clear as day, day 'B9' on the door. Josh almost groaned when he saw it. He had spent so long looking for the room, and it was obvious the whole time. How had he not found it before?

He pushed open the door, causing every student's head to snap his way. Patrick pulled him past them to sit down at the back.

"Sorry, Mr Armstrong. Joshua here's new, and he was a little lost. You know how it is," Patrick said.

Mr Armstrong nodded. "Well, Joshua, welcome to creative writing."