Marcó sighed, pulling a plain black shirt, some blue jeans and a pair of black sneakers on after exiting his bathroom. It was late in the morning, and he would have his first day of his new school today. Slinging his Bass guitar over his shoulder, he headed downstairs, greeting his grandparents, who were sat at the table. "Marcó," his grandmother scolded. "What time do you call this?"

Marcó glanced at the clock. "Ocho y media," he shrugged, speaking in Spanish as a default. His grandfather gave him a stare from behind his newspaper - he had lectured Marcó about how he should stop speaking Spanish, suggesting it was a bad habit. "Half eight," Marcó smirked, walking over to the table and taking a slice of toast before heading for the door. "I'll see you later, then," he gave his grandparents a half hearted wave, which they both returned.

After a short bus journey, Marcó arrived at Yellow Lake High. He exhaled, entering it's gates and finding a place to put his guitar before heading to first period. He hoped he'd find a friend with similar interests to him.