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This was sickening.

Not the upperclassmen, mind you (although many certainly [i]were [/i]annoying), but the [i]ride[/i]. Ochre had never been good with boats or planes, and the combination of heat, must, and body odor didn't help matters either. Though it looked as if his arms were crossed as an indication of attitude, it was really just him hugging his sides, enduring the ride as well as he could. 

It was unfortunate; because he'd much rather have taken this golden opportunity to expand his social network than sit in this cramped shuttle, combating nausea stronger than any of these upper years. Speaking of which, if he didn't want to come off as unsocial, he would have to answer their greeting in kind. Another unfortunate reality.

[color=F5C52C]"...Name's Ochre,"[/color] he seethed, [color=F5C52C]"And I [i]cannot wait [/i]'till we get there..."[/color]

An expression similar to a wry grin (but not at all dissimilar to a grimace) formed on his face. His next words went out to the grey-haired dog: [color=F5C52C]"'Specially cause I..."[/color] 

He paused. This was not for dramatic purposes. His throat shifted ever so slightly, almost like he was swallowing something. Ochre coughed, and continued in a voice slightly hoarser than before: [color=F5C52C]"...'Cause I gotta show that [i]old man[/i] over there what a 'greenhorn' can do."[/color]

Ochre leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.