Walking the Earth [10k ; z nation]

01

The bell rings and I mentally bang my head into a wall.

  I grab the faded strap of last years backpack and force myself up from the uncomfortable desk which I had sat in for the last fifty minutes.
  I was almost to the door when I heard the very voice which I had begun to hate.

"Miss Shaw?" She calmly asked from her desk, but it was as clear as a flashing stop sign that she was irritated.

"Yes ma'm?" I turned around, bouncing on my heels, ready to get the hell out of there. I pulled my backpack tightly to my body by the straps.

"When are you planning on turning in your homework?"

Dammit.

I was sure she wouldn't notice.

"We wouldn't want you to fall behind within the first week now would we?" She cocked an eyebrow up at me and her veiny hand tapped on the desk.

I pressed my mouth into a thin line and shook my head no.

"Dismissed," she sighed, and turned her attention back to grading.

What kind of masochist assigns homework the first week of school?

I practically flung myself out of the room and down the hallway.
I shoved my way past the asshats that weren't keeping to their right as they went through the halls. The first week of junior year wasn't going as great as I'd hoped, my best friend as of last year had moved and I was stuck with a small group of girls who I liked fine, but lacked any real personality traits.

As I trekked my way up to the third floor I had one thought on a loop in my head.

One more class until lunch.

A kid tripped another boy in front of me, almost causing me to fall.

One more class until lunch.

"Sorry Bella!" The boy who had tripped the boy I didn't recognize called after me.

"Don't be a dick, Stewart!" I told him over my shoulder.

"Get up man, I was only playin!" I faintly heard Stewart say behind me

I rolled my eyes. All these high school boys were the same. They worked out every muscle in their body except for their brain, and only cared about the quickest way to get into a girls pants with ought having to really try.

"Morning, Shaw." My English teacher greeted me gruffly once I had made it into the classroom. She waddled over to me and handed me my journal.

I was taking AP English 4 even though I was only a sophomore. English was the only subject I really understood, I guess because there wasn't really a set line of thinking.

I sunk down into my desk at the back of the class and opened my journal. I quickly saw that the handwriting was not my own. I was about to raise my hand to tell Ms. C she had made a mistake, but my eyes were already scanning the opening line of yesterday's entry.

I went fishing yesterday and thought about the water.

I quickly lowered my hand, engrossed in the paragraph. The writer had written an excellent hook.

I thought about how some water is clear and clean, and some is dirty and foggy. The content of the water depends on what gets put into it, and I thought about how life is the same way.

'This kid thinks way too much...' I said to myself, but it was a nice thought altogether.

"Um, Excuse me?"
A voice shocked me out of my snooping. I nearly jumped a foot in the air, banging my knee gracefully on the underside of the desk in the process.

"Oh wow, hey." I flipped the journal closed, embarrassed.

"I think you might have my journal."

It was the boy who got tripped in the hallway, he had short black hair and wore a red hoodie.

"Sorry! I just flipped it open and saw the handwriting was different..." I lied.

Well, technically it wasn't a lie, I was just withholding the whole truth.
My hands fell into my lap and laid there, limp.

"So I didn't see you reading it a few seconds ago then?" He shot back, not meanly but enough rigor to let me know I was caught.

"Sorry. You're a good writer." I lamely handed the journal back to him and he exchanged it with my journal. I immediately knew why it was so easy for Ms. C to get them mixed up. They were both black, and the exact same brand.

"Thanks, uh...?" I trailed off, hoping he would get what I was asking.

"Thomas." He tucked his journal under his arm and began to walk away, his converse squeaking slightly against the floor.

"Bella." I said to his retreating figure.

A/N

For those of you that might be confused, this book is going to take place about a year before the apocalypse starts, I'm just trying to play with the idea, and I'm extra sorry in advance if the timeline of this book doesn't exactly match up with the timeline of the actual Z Nation series.