The Storyteller's Challenge n. 1 - Rain

I wrote this entire short story at school. Or more precisely, I wrote it down at school, but the characters started talking in my head while I was waiting for the gate to open. So this entire short story is my morning, but described by a much grumpier and annoyed person, and her slighty-more-social-but-still-hates-people friend. The image I'm putting here isn't the one that sparked the story, but the closest I could find. I didn't break the rules, though, becase the story was indeed born from an image: the one that my nameless MC describes carefully at the beginning. Then the voices in my head just started talking and... voilà! Enjoy!

This image doesn't belong to me. Should its owner want it removed, please let me know.

It's so beautiful.
Sitting on my schoolbag, the umbrella over my head repairing me from rain, my eyes won't stop looking around, trying to absorb every single bit of this sheer beauty. I look at a small water pool, the rain drops constantly froming circles which then disappear in a few instants. The earth, what little soil isn't covered by asphalt, is wet, a vivid brown, and those few blades of grass bow to the weight of water falling from the sky. A lone tree raises its dead branches against the plumber sky.
And then there's... silence. A beautiful silence. Nothing but the rain. Drip, drip, drop, at a fascinatingly rapid rate.
Minutes pass, and I do nothing but stare at the water pool and the tree. Nothing but marvel at this beautiful silence and loneliness. After a few minutes two girls come, but I ignore them. They're too far for me to hear their voices or acknowledge their presence. I want to enjoy this while it lasts.
Which isn't long, as the bus stops and they get out. Tens of them, tens of loud, colorful, uncivilized kids get out of the bus in a barbaric fashion. I grit my teeth and try to ignore them, but it's impossible. Their abnormally large or incredibly minute bodies stand in my field of vision, in front of the dead tree, over the pool of water. Their voices drive me mad. Why must they be so loud? Why can't human beings just shut up and enjoy the rain?
"...Maths homework was..."
"...he's so cute and..."
"...look at that little nerd!"
"...it didn't rain this much at the park..."
I clench my fists, desperately trying to shut off their voices. Futile attempt, but still worth it. Stupid human beings. Why must they be so loud, and noisy, and intrusive?
"They're ruining the color balance." Kate throws down her backpack and sits on it, exactly like me.
"These colorful umbrellas are driving me mad. They always wear gray and black on sunny days. Why can't they just keep them on when the color balance is perfect?" I don't reply, but I know I'll have to. She folds her hands behind her head and leans against the gate.
"Stupid human beings must always be so loud. They must ruin everything."
I grunt and nod. Kate always knows exactly what I'm thinking. Their chit-chat is getting on my nerves. They're noisy and their voices raise by the second to surpass each other. Shut up! Shut up and let me enjoy the rain. Why don't you disappear? Disappear and let me enjoy the dead tree branches and the little hops rain drops make when they fall in pools of water?
I shift my feet uneasily. Kate, of course, notices it and questioningly raises her eyebrows.
"My socks are freezing wet." I explain. My voice feels gruff after being neglected for so long.
She smiles. "It's very cold."
"I don't mind cold."
"Of course you don't." The corners of her lips curve slightly upwards. She got me to talk in the end.
"I wish they'd all just disappear. Disappear and let me alone." Her smile widens even more, but she doesn't say anything, perfectly aware that now that she got me to talk, I won't shut up.
"I want to write."
"I want to draw." Her quick reply is followed by an emotionless face.
"That's the only downside of the rain. What'd it be like if rain didn't get things wet?" She unflods her hand and crouches, the exact same moment I rest my head on the gate, ignoring the pain of thin metal sticks against my flesh. We both smile at our mirroring movements, before we put on our emotionless masks again.
"It wouldn't be rain, then." It wasn't a question, or more exactly, I already knew the answer, and she knew that I knew. I nod anyways, staring blankly at those annoying people standing in my field of vision.
"I guess."