Taylor Kyle Smith, an ordinary teenager, right? I mean, I have an plain name, go to an ordinary local high school and get pretty descent grades. Ordinary and plain.

~Large Cafeteria~

See those kids sitting at that table? Yeah, those. The “cool” and “popular” people. Sitting around laughing, kissing their boyfriends and sitting in their laps. They look like they have the latest style on and at least five of them have cell phones to their ears. The other's either are gossiping or checking their schedule on an electronic organizer.

Well, that's not me. I'm the one you see beyond that table. Yeah, him. The blonde haired, green eyed boy sitting with no one, watching the popular people flirt and gossip. Yep, that's me. Nothing special, except I have a passion for writing. I'm not too good at it, but it has earned me a name around school: dork. Nobody likes to read anymore. They prefer to go to the movies, sit in front of a small computer watching video clips, or turn on the television. Sad, isn't it? They don't think so. They go on, with their pointless, technology filled lives. I mean, they'd probably have a heart attack if the power went out.

So, here I am, eating my lunch, as usual. Nothing different. The popular people still flirt with the popular people and carry on. Same old, same old.

“Hey Taylor,” said a voice. I looked up, startled that anyone would talk with me. It was an angel, I swear. Not really. Just my middle school crush, Mei Sing. You see, her parents moved over from China, and she was an only child. For the first few days she was here, I was her friend. Then, she became involved with some popular people, and seemed to forget about me.

“Oh, hey Mei,” I said, smiling.

“I just saw you sitting here by yourself and decided to come over. We haven't talked in a while, eh?” She sat beside me.

“No, we haven't.” She smiled. “How have you been?”

“The same,” I said. “How are you?”

“Okay, I guess,” she said, looking down at her lunch. Gosh, she was still beautiful. That long black hair and those violet eyes. She looked troubled.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

“Not really,” Mei said. “I haven't told anyone this, but my mother just died.”

“What?” I asked. “Why haven't you told anyone?”

“Because, they don't care,” she said, looking at the popular group's table. “They're too caught up in the latest fashion and what movie is out at the theaters to care.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

“Because I knew you would care.” About the time Mei came in sixth grade, my adopted dad died. Yeah, on top of it all, I was adopted. More like found, actually. My real parents I never knew. Anyway, I had told her that my adopted dad had died. She was really supportive of me, then she left. Now, in ninth grade, she's returning to get some sympathy out of me? “Taylor,” she said. “I'm sorry for abandoning you. I wanted to be popular-”

“So do we all,” I muttered.

“So, I left you. As my mom was saying her last words, you came to mind. I don't know why, but you did. You‘re a good friend, Taylor. Don't lose sight of yourself.” Then the bell rang. She stood and walked away. Wow. She talked to me. This should ba a historical day! Of course, if every time something weird happened, everyday would be historical. So, continuing my normal day and returning to my normal looking house. Yeah, you know it. The stereotypical two story white house with black shutters. My life was too normal that it wasn't normal. Like if something was too weird it wasn't even described as weird anymore. Like that.

“Hey, mom!” I called, coming in the door.

“Taylor? Is that you?”

“No, it's Fluffy!” I yelled back. Fluffy was the cat, who had some issues. For one, she was scared of mice and anything smaller than her. She loved water and hated to be clean. This was one backwards cat.

“Very funny, young man,” she said, walking in. There she stood, short brown hair and blue eyes, the model of clean perfection. Emphasis on clean. She loved to clean. It was her job, after all. Not even a dust bunny got by her, she'd kill it so quick. If my room even dared get dirty, it'll become clean in a matter of minutes. “Now listen. Socks and underwear go in two different drawers.”

“Okay,” I said, starting to go upstairs. Okay, so maybe my adopted family is a little abnormal. I went by a room of blaring music and another room with someone talking on the phone inside. I was the youngest, naturally. Jenna and Scott were there long before I was. Scott really didn't give much thought about me. He was the oldest, after all, and all he did was play loud music and stay out really late. Jenna owned Fluffy. Jenna loved to talk. During dinner, it would be nonstop talking. She wouldn't let anyone else talk, until she was finished, which was never. You think I talk a lot, wait until you hear her.

~At the stereotypical kitchen table~

“So, he said to me that he thought I was totally like hot and wanted to know if I wanted to cool down. I mean, he's the head captain of the football team, and I'm only the captain of the cheer leading and soccer team. I was honored at that request, because I like so totally dig him. He's handsome, intelligent, and totally awesome. You should see his car. Wow, talk about a beauty! It's black with leather interior. Later, he'll be coming to pick me up. I can hardly like wait,” Jenna said. Over the years, we have learned to slowly ignore her, putting in a “that's nice,” and a “really?” here and there. We were pros and making anyone believe we were listening to them.

~Back upstairs, after dinner~

This is where the real story begins. Remember, I'm just your average, fourteen year old ninth grader. At this time of the night, I sit down to write. I'm all alone; Scott has left so there's no blaring music and Jenna and mom are sitting downstairs, watching television.

Sitting at my desk, I take out my notebook, where I write everything. I'll tell you this upfront. I don't know much about mythical monsters. I just think they're interesting and put them in my world, where I can make up anything and everything. This time, I open up my normal notebook and there's a blue stone inbetween the pages.

“That's odd,” I said a loud. Yes, I even talk to myself. I pick it up and examine it. It was a really pretty blue. It was almost a clear blue on the edges and in the middle, there was a darker blue. It looked really cool. There was a glove in the notebook, as well. “Huh,” I said, picking up the glove. “This is strange. I wonder if this is one of Scott's tricks, again.” There was a place for the stone. “Well, whatever.” I said, putting the glove on. There weren't any fingers on the glove; it only covered my palm and the back of my right hand. I took the stone and started to push it in the socket. Suddenly, it went in and this blinding light came from it, engulfing me in the light.