Pop-Tart never tasted so crappy.<br/><br/>Cole took a bite, frowning at the too-gooey-to-be-safe texture, stretching the strawberry flavoring as if it were strips of melting rubber.  He giving it out to some unlucky fellow, or maybe saving it for the toaster in a sure to be futile attempt to wring satisfaction from it, but ultimately decided to just toss it out.  It made a clunk as it landed in the tin bin, making the thin trash bag puff out before slowly deflating.<br/><br/>He sighed, his stomach growling.  That Pop-Tart had been his fail-safe: the back-up plan for when he couldn't grab a bowl of cereal before school.  Apparently, it had sat inside his backpack for a couple days too many.  Cole sighed again, resolving to martyr himself to a Monday full of tests, missed homework, social awkwardness, and all the other joys that accompany high school, now with hunger thrown in as well.<br/><br/>The senior sat heavily at his desk, his backpack sliding off his shoulder and landing on the tiled floor.  While the other students turned in their chairs to chat with friends or copy answers, Cole put his head in his arms, waiting for the day to start.  He tried to mentally review the HA assignment handed out by Ms. Taylor in preparation for the test, but kept getting hung up on the intricacies of female hormone generation and function.  Something about FSH and estrogen...  Estrogen makes them bitchy and FSH gives them PTS?  Something like that.  Cole really didn't care either way what obscure protein did what in the body.  He hadn't even bothered to check the prep sheet the night before; too busy dealing with Anna.<br/><br/>At that thought, his eyes automatically shifted to look at the pretty girl sitting next to him.  She was blonde, with a very slim figure and a disproportionate but apparently attractive bust.  Her face betrayed her Hispanic ancestry, and her eyes were a dark brown.  Note cute, but a more mature kind of beauty.  Anna: the girl next door, the cheerleader, the prom queen and the naughty student.  Every guy wanted her, but frankly, Cole rather'd move to the next county than spend another day being her neighbour.  Every day it was something new, yet another thing that set Cole's teeth on edge.  He wondered what it was about him that caught her attention.  He wasn't noticeably attractive, didn't do sports, spent all his time reading or gaming on the web.  He was, for the most part, antisocial, and he had never--<br/><br/>The door opened.  Cole's head, as well as everyone else's, turned to look in unison as Ms. Taylor entered the room.  There was a tell-tale groan as the class' collective eyes saw the thick wad of papers she held under one arm, as well as a quick shuffling of papers as students tried to hide their unfinished homework.  Cole, his glasses fogged from having his face down in his folded arms, looked down at his backpack, quickly withdrawing the necessary utensils for that days class.<br/><br/>His stomach growled again, his mind suddenly blanking, forgetting everything he had known about female hormones.  Anna shot him a glance, her teeth perfectly white and straight, and placed a hand on his arm.  He smiled weakly back with false thanks, then turned and placed his head firmly on his desk.<br/><br/>It was going to be a bad day.