Jordan Fayte was your typical guy, commonly known to his highschool as Fayte. Whistling to the girls as he passed them in the hallway, maybe reaching out to caress a bum. No girlfriends, though. Nope, he was a free bird. And liked it. It made the parties go smoother. Standing at five feet eleven, a nice one hundred sixty five pounds, there wasn't a sport he couldn't play. Fayte was the typical popular guy/jock in his school. The one other's looked up to, and he wasn't exactly selfish or condencending, he just didn't stop to think about his consequenses very often.

He did now, though. The paper stated one hundred seventeen. Fayte took a step back, looking at the tag next to the door. One hundred seventeen. Stepping back into the room, Fayte's hands began digging furiously in his backpack, finally pulling out a crumpled paper. Shifting the bag after zipping it closed, Fayte's eyes frantically searched the paper. He found it, mumbling out loud, "One seventeen...co-Cosmetology...?!" He stood still for a moment, before melting around the twittering females, sliding into a seat next to another male. "Hey, they messed up your sceduale too? Do you know where the teacher is? I wanna get...this...fixed...." Fayte's voice faded off and his smile felt frozen as his dark blue eyes travelled over the male's desk. Obviously not a mistake on his part... "Uhh....Sorry? Do you know where the teacher is?"