Chapter One...Well Slap Me Silly and Call Me Samwise

Sable was watching TV out in the living room, halfway though a bowl of Fruity Pebbles by the time I ambled out of bed that morning. I was still dressed in a white tank top and pajama pants while she was already dressed for the day in a nice blue denim dress.

"Morning, Scott," she said without looking away from the set, on which was playing some weird music video for some band she's been obsessing over for the past month. She was sitting Japanese style in front of the coffee table, feet folded underneath her. Her hair – plain brown, the same as my own – was pulled back into two long, perfectly straight braids that reached her waist. I wish my hair was that straight. But no, I get mom's crazy curls. I reached up to grab at the tips my own hair. Mom's hair was long, so the curls looked good, but on me they just stood out a bit at the sides. If my hair had been straight, it would easily reach the middle of my ears, but no, it did whatever the hell it wanted no matter what I did to it.

Is it really as a gay as it sounds to be jealous of your younger sister's hair?

I sat down on the La Z Boy chair and settled back, intent on getting a few more minutes sleep before school.

"...I want to see the real you,

Tear off your skin and see inside,

Heart beating fast,

Holding on-"

These words in particular were what got me focusing on the TV. What's the name of this band again?

"Unrequited Love?" I said out loud.

"Unrequited Sin," Sable corrected huffily, twisting around to give me a disappointed look.

"Um, okay. Whatever."

"I want to keep you forever,

And not let you hide,

I want to give you an unchaste-

Kiss."

The lead singer, Tracey Splash or something, was dressing in a black suit and a black top hat, along a pair of white gloves gripping a wooden cane. He was just standing there, almost perfectly still, singing with this creepy expression on his face. Not that you could see much of it, what with the dark red bangs covering the right half of his face, and the brim of the hat hiding almost everything else so that the only things showing were his nose and a pair of luscious pink lips – Wait, what?

"I want to keep you forever,

A caged and crippled bird,

I want to watch you without you saying a word,

I want you mute,

I want you silent."

The scene changed to show a woman from the back, her hair reaching down to touch the rope binding her hands together against the top of her butt. Tracey Splash Or Something leaned down to whisper the lines into her ear, his face still mostly hidden.

"I want to climb inside,

And look around,

While you swallow your pride,

And a crowd-

Watches."

He screamed the last word, making the woman flinch. Tracey whirled around and walked off camera. It was only the music – the insanely catchy music – playing for a bit as random pictures of the woman and creepy gothic people staring at her flashed on screen.

Splash Or Whatever came back on, ripping of the top hat, revealing green eyes- eye- sparkling with some sort of indescribable emotion.

I want to see the real you,

Tear off your skin and see inside,

Heart beating wildly against the cage of your chest,

I bet all you want is to rest-

Forever."

The words ended, and the little credits flashed at the bottom left corner of the screen as the music slowed down. Unrequited Sin : Want, Elektronik Chinchilla.

"—Scott – Scott," Sable was suddenly standing in front of me, looking fairly pissed off, "You better go get dressed, unless you want to go around school in that."

"Alright, mom, geez," I got up, grunting with the effort, "We already have enough moms, Sable, don't you think?"

She shoved me. How rude.

I was waiting patiently for my beloved Poptart to emerge from the depths of the toaster, aware of Sable bustling about somewhere else in the kitchen, probably trying to find one article of make-up or another.

"Scotty, baby," my mom walked into the kitchen then, first making her way over to the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water. Her hair was tied back, making the brown curls bounce even more wildly that usual. My Poptarts jumped up finally, but I ignored them.

"Yes, mother, dearest?" I smiled in the most gentlemanly way. She shoved me, playfully. I guess it runs in the family. The "Shove Scott, the Human Bozo the Clown" gene.

"I have to work late today, do you think you could drive Sable back home from school?" she asked sweetly, opening up the bottle.

"What, no," was my immediate response. Sable had an extra class, so she stayed at school an hour later than me. Sable gave me a dirty look from where she stood in front of the stove. Mom gave me her standard mom look, and I sighed, "Fine, whatever." She kept looking at me, "Okay, sure, I will, I promise."

She smiled then and hugged me tightly, "Okay honey, thank you baby." You know, she's the one that named me, so you'd think she would call me by it at least once.

"Come on, Ginger, we need to go," came Lyenne's voice from the hallway. Mom jumped away from me a little bit too excitedly and walked briskly over to my other mom at the front door. They may be both girls, but they were still my parents, and I don't care who you are, watching your parents make-out is just disturbing.

I grabbed my beloved Poptarts, gratefully eating one as an excuse not to watch. Sable cleared her throat after a bit, "Hey mom? Lyenne? Don't you have to, like, work?"

They separated, so I was able to look at them again. Mom giggled. As always. Lyenne seemed indifferent, "Right, right, can't have your mother late to work again," Lyenne ran a hand through her wonderfully straight black hair, and then grabbed my mom's wrist. Within seconds, they were out the door and in Lyenne's car. I think I heard mom say goodbye but I wasn't sure.

"You ready to go, freshie?" I asked Sable. I love calling her freshie. Fucking freshman. Come to think of it, since I was a senior, I could call anyone a fucking whatever, huh? Hmmm...

"Scott, I love you, I really do, but if you call me that again, I will be forced to castrate you," Sable shrugged her backpack on over her shoulders.

"Pssh, I'd like to see you try to get one past this fortress," I struck a pose, showing off my biceps.

Sable rolled her eyes. "Just get your keys."

"Anything for you, your highness."

After successfully getting my dangerously old white car safely parked at the school, Sable hopped out as quickly as she could. Hey, yeah, don't thank me for the ride. Bitch. She must have started her period or something. That would certainly explain her attitude this morning.

I got out myself after a few minutes of whispering sweet nothings to my car. I love my car. Almost as much as I love this fucking Poptart. Almost. I stepped up onto the curb of the school driveway, admiring the trees and the green grass of my school like I always did.

Something fell against my side. Hard. I stumbled, turning around to see who it was, only to find out it was some blonde guy I didn't know. He had been walking backwards – for reasons unknown – and obviously hadn't seen me. He turned to face me now, an apology written all over his face. Well, at least the half of his face that I could see, anyway. The right half of his face was covered by dark red bangs, very different from the short, spiky yellow color of the rest of his hair.

Have I seen this guy before?

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to figure out were all of the class rooms were," he explained, looking sheepish. His eye was sparkly and green. When I didn't reply, he tilted his head to the side, making the little ankh earring dangling from his left earlobe flutter around. I blinked.

"Oh... yeah? Well..." Shit. Where the fuck have I seen this guy before? "Are you new or something?"

"Yup, just moved here," he smiled. It was a nice smile.

And then, in the style of a thousand bricks falling from Mount Everest, it hit me, "Holy Jesus, aren't you...?" that guy from the TV sounded stupid, so I didn't finish the sentence. I didn't know the guy's name either, so that didn't help much.

The guy blinked that one shiny eye, his full lips parting slightly, "Traci Slash?" he finished for me. He was being timid. Why was he being timid?

I paused, rolling the name over in my head. Yup, Traci Slash was definitely the name Sable had been pounding into my head for the past month.

"Well, shit, I was hoping you didn't know who I was," he glanced around, not really looking at anything.

"I really wouldn't know who you are, if it weren't for the fact that my little sister is obsessed with you," I hadn't meant for that to come out so defensively. He just stared at me. So I stared at him back. He looked away first. I sighed, "So, what brings someone like you to our lovely distinguished high school?" Normally, one would expect themselves to be utterly shocked and speechless in the presence of a celebrity, but for some reason, I just wasn't.

He gave me a weird look, probably because of the phrasing of my words, "To... learn?" he made it a question.

"Really?" that surprised me, "You're that young?"

"Eighteen," he was smiling again. Maybe he liked the fact that I wasn't freaking out. A lapse in conversation ensued until he said, quietly, "Can you tell me where the gym is?"

Oh, right. For some odd reason, my face felt hot. Weird, "Most of the classrooms are over there," I answered, pointing, "But if you show me your schedule, I could help you find all of your classes...," Okay, why was I helping him?

Traci reached into the back pocket of his extremely tight black jeans and pulling out a small folded piece of paper. He handed it to me and I unfolded it, reading. Name: Traci Freiderstein. That surprised me at first, but then I mentally slapped myself for thinking that Slash was his actual last name. Mother: Siobhan Gout, Father: Charles Freiderstein Jr. Guess they were divorced. Contacts: Archer Freiderstein, Charles Freiderstein Sr. Not his parents? Interesting. I glanced up from the paper to see Traci giving me another look, and my face got hot again. Right; the classes. Heh.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, "Well, looks like we have first period P.E. together—" Traci seemed to perk up for some reason, "—And fourth period English," I looked back at him, noticing for the first time that he was almost a head shorter that me. I handed back his schedule, "So, we can go together to P.E..."

"Sounds good," he was smirking, and I didn't know why, "Oh, and what's your name?"

Oops. "Scott," I paused, "Cordenbroch."

"Shall we go then, Scott?" Traci suddenly had a German accent. I blinked, thinking back in the conversation when I had noticed a British trill to his voice. Intriguing.

"Yes, we shall."