This was the fourth time Greg had used public transportation since his incident, and it was quickly working its way up his list of least favorite things. Greg had immediately taken a seat in the front of the vehicle, remembering from his days of public education that those tended to be much less popular. Nevertheless, a few students who hadn't introduced themselves did attempt to sit near him, though within the first fifteen minutes of the trip they'd moved further back, unable to fight the vague feeling in the back of their minds that told them the strange boy in the glasses was something to be feared and avoided.

And so Greg spent most of his trip with only the voices for company. It wasn't like he wasn't used to it. The loudest by far was the girl with the firey temper, Lynn, even more so than the shy boy who was on the verge of a social panic attack. It seemed she had a gripe ready for every possible occurrence, and spent the better part of the trip raving internally about how important this was for her, how she should have gone back to juvy, her disdain for everyone else on the bus and various other issues. At times, it seemed to Greg less like he was picking up parts of her subconscious and more like he was just getting a live feed directly from her brain.

[i]No freedom for the firebird, false flight fails. A gilded cage by any other name leaves as bitter a taste in the mouth.[/i]

Nevertheless, Greg tried to withhold judgement and just not pay attention. It was wrong that he did this to people, wrong that his very existence was a massive violation of everyone else's well-being and privacy; the least he could do was soften the blow by ignoring all the personal information that poured into his mind as best he could.

Before long, they were out of the bus and in an auditorium, where the founder of the school gave them an admittedly decent speech about the school and the students.

[i]Tried to make a place far from fear, fast against false friends. Failed. Try again. Couldn't save them all.[/i]

Then, the assembly was over. Greg cowered in his seat in the far corner of the room while everyone else stood up in a big hurry to get their room number. This was bad. The crowd around the woman with the clipboard who was bothered by memories she couldn't forget was enormous - if he walked over there, it'd be like a window blew open on a February day. And that was not even touching the issue of the roommate. 

He thought for a moment that maybe they would have taken his... condition into account, and he'd be rooming alone, then thought not. That was far too good to be true - this was a school, after all, and whoever was in charge had probably taken one look at his file and decided that his social issues could be sorted out by companionship. Oh well. Maybe he'd be lucky, and his roommate would be out every moment of the day, and Greg wouldn't have to listen to his brain as he grew more and more disturbed and sickened by Greg's presence. That'd be nice.

Eventually, the crowd thinned, and Greg finally approached the reception desk. 

[i]Smarter than I look, seconds stuffed into my brain, not a moment to lose. Failure, fright, frustration, forget-me-not.[/i]

The woman smiled at him, oddly enough, and announced in a bubbly voice, "Greg Jackson! Room 136 for you, with one Abbey Chessar! Go get 'em!"

[i]Shaky breaky achy taky jitter critter tossed and lost and bury it deep. Queen takes queen, bishop takes knight, knight takes knight by night.[/i]

Chess, then. That was the theater boy, hard to read, who'd wanted everyone to stop smoking. Well, that wouldn't be a conflict between them, but Greg couldn't speak to much else.

He thanked the woman politely and proceeded to his room to find that his roommate had obviously already been here, judging by the belongings that someone had clearly already gone through. Greg's things were here too - toiletries, clothes (all jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts; Greg was not a fashionable guy), and a few books he'd been unable to fit in the bag he carried with him. Greg set about putting it all to order - he was a pisspoor organizer on his best day, but did a decent job of squaring his possessions away in his half of the room, he thought. 

Chess had clearly already claimed the far bed, from the book tossed on it. That wasn't ideal - Greg would have much preferred being deeper in the room and further away from... everything else. Maybe the other boy would understand, but Greg didn't really want to make it a problem - he abhorred conflict, mostly because when he was involved in an argument, everyone tended to lose.

Greg was sitting on his bed contemplating his next move when he heard his stomach growl. He hadn't eaten in... best not to think about it. He remembered something being said about food being served in the cafeteria - might be best to go check that out, even though he wasn't sure he was up to another public outing.

Well, it was either the cafeteria or starve to death, he thought as he walked out the door and locked it behind him. We'll try the former now and see about the latter another time.