“Emo!” “Vampire!” “Schwuchtel!” – all of these were things Marshall Lee was called upon as he headed over the schoolyard to the exit of the school’s ground I’m not sure if it’s true, but I’m not sure if it’s true , and then he had arrived at home, and Marshall lived there alone with his great sister, Marceline, and after the parents had died, and no nursing family had been found, the reverence of his great sister was handed over to him but he did not really take it seriously, opened the squeaky garden gate and stepped onto the stones in the garden, the sun practically making it into grills, so he had to hurry.“MARSHY MARS HY! “, He heard the voice of his big sister out of the corridor, soon he also saw the rest of the same storm. “Tomorrow, a newcomer comes into your class!” She cried, looking at me with wide eyes. “Okay, Marcie. First, you’re 16. Do you really have to scream like that? Secondly, may I come in first? “He said annoyed and dragged the stairs from the hallway up to his room, his sister Marceline close behind him. “So, tell me more,” Marshall said as he threw his school bag into the corner and sat on the bed. “So,” Marceline began. “He’s called Bubba Gumball and-” “BUBBA ?! HAHHAHAH! “Marshall interrupted her and lay down on the bed with laughter. “Can I go on?” His sister grinned and chuckled. “Of course, drive away,” he grinned back and sat down again. “His name is Bubba Gumball and he’s just moved.” She gave her brother a picture of the boy. A friend had stuck it with her. “Why is he so … pink? His hair, his clothes … is terrible, “he muttered. Marceline looked at him and smiled, “Maybe he’s gay, too?” Marshall then pinched her in the side and turned red. “Haha, is already good. By the way, you can turn your fantasies right off again – heard that he’s hetero. “She smirked again, only to look at her. “Let’s just order something to eat,” said the younger, standing up with a sigh. While his sister called at a nearby pizzaservice, Marshall thought about the newly learned news. “Hm … how will he be? Hm … he’s like the others. Intolerant and insane. He sighed again. But … he was kinda cute. Wait … what … he should stop thinking so. He did not even know him. Perhaps he was also very nice?
The next morning, Marshall stared dazed. He stood up sleepy and dribbled down into the kitchen. He was only in dark blue-black plaid boxershorts, as every morning. The creaky, old wooden stairs under his feet bawled over his weight, which was clearly in the normal range. “Tomorrow,” it got annoyed, and his sister’s mouth turned as he slumped on a chair at the breakfast table. In front of him a bowl of muesli was placed, the dresser of which was sitting on a chair opposite him. “Tomorrow. Well slept? “She asked, looking at him tiredly. “Yes, we write today,” came back followed by an eye-roll. Marceline grinned, “And? What subject? “” Math, “Marshall replied slackly, and dropped his head with a tortured expression on the table. His sister laughed maliciously: “We write German next week. Not too great, but better than math. “She grinned. “Do not fret too early. I’ve got math at the moment’ne 4, as in 70% of the other subjects, but you could be better, ‘he replied. That was true. The only subjects in which he was really good were music, where they almost sang – one of his strengths – and English.
When Marshall arrived at school, he had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was quite excited about the new student, but on the other hand he was 90% sure he would be the same as the others. He, too, would not understand him. He, too, would be a pious man. He too would be intolerant and stubborn. The school ringlets interrupted him in his prejudices and he had to enter the school building. The crowd, which was chattering around him, pushed him formally. He shuffled through the corridor to his classroom. Fortunately, he did not have to go down stairs, his class was housed on the ground floor of the building this year. He opened the door and entered the usual chaos: some threw paper, a few girls practiced their non-existent characters with chalk on the blackboard, 2 or 3 quickly wrote the homework, and a group of spurs repeated the fabric for the maths test. He had not learned, but he could not save his maternal year. He sat down on his single table in the last row, and sighed as most turned to him, throwing his daughters to his head, some of them also beating him, but he had to say that his class had never intended, to hurt him. At least not physically. Well, actually it was not a single table. It was a doublet, like the others here in the room. However, this was only occupied by him. Good for him, then he had more room for his books. After a while, the door opened again, and his math teacher, along with a couple of late-comers and the new one, joined the class. When everything had calmed down and everyone had put themselves in their places, the routine began. “Good morning!” The teacher’s cheerful voice sounded from the desk through the room. Everyone stood up to greet them. Except Marshall. He was not really in the mood to move. Above all, not for the person who would be bothering him today. The teacher was looking to see if everyone was up. “Marshall? Are you up, please? “She finally squealed to him. However, he did not react and scribble something on the table. “On the table is not painted!” She cried again, this time something more energetic. This, however, quickly vanished as she turned back to the rest of the class after Marshall had not reacted again: “Well, I think you may well greet me.”