With a screech and directed at me and a flurry of legs, Chrissy Jones sprinted away from me as fast as he skinny legs could carry her. I smirked, my black lip-sticked lips curving up to reveal perfect white teeth, canines slightly more pronounced to be like fangs. I waved at her as she sprinted off, my fingers moving down one at a time like wave.

I grinned widely, turning on my heel and striding down the school hall, my 3 inch gothic stilettos clicking on the linoleum flooring as I made my way off.

--

So, hi. I’m Candy Stowers. I’m a wonderful hard-core goth who can’t get enough of the male kind. I’m not your normal senior. Hell, I’m not your normal person. It’s easy to see that just by glancing at me. It’s easier to tell when I simply talk. You take a look at how I act, your jaws hits the ground. And then you get to me.

Be very afraid.

I love my first name. Candy. Candy is sweet, and I’m not. Perhaps something like anchovy might fit me better. No one really likes anchovies. but you see, I wouldn’t have liked that name. Not very pretty, huh?

I’m as straight as a laser beam. Boys are for me. Girls are not. I can relate to girls...but I just can’t look at them like that.

I’ve been called a slut before, so I’ll just let you in on this little fact pretty quick: I’m not. I’m not a slut. Sluts have AIDS, sluts have a new boyfriend every week, sluts aren’t virgins.

You see, none of the above apply to me. Yes, I do wear rather revealing clothes. Um...get over it? That’s doesn’t make me a slut, thanks. Well, sort of. Whatever.

I don’t have AIDS! That’s the first clue. I do not sex up anything that breathes. I don’t sex up anything. I’m waiting until marriage. I am currently single, and have been for two months. I am happy, yet not. It’s a neutral position.

By now, you’re probably curious as to what the hell those first two paragraphs were all about.

That girl was Chrissy Jones. She is anorexic and think it makes her look hot. Her boyfriend dumped her. He asked me out. I’m still thinking about that there. She found out, and she got pissed.

So, with the 15 IQ that she possessed, she suddenly got it into her little blonde head that she should just attack me.

Riiiight...

Anyway, I was just...strolling...down the halls, grinning and in a wonderful mood, when someone suddenly yanked my hair.

Let me let you in on a little secret. YOU DO NOT PULL MY HAIR.

On impulse, I turned around and slapped her, just because she pulled my hair. Didn’t you hear me? YOU DON’T PULL MY HAIR! IT ANGERS ME. Well, I caught her and me off guard. I just did it naturally. Of course, this made her even more mad. Yippee. She instantly slapped me back with her weak arm, but it stung none the less. I bet it was the bone that hit me. No flesh to cushion the blow.

I hate pain. I’m no masochist. So I quirked an eyebrow and hit her again, responding like a normal somewhat innocent goth child would do.

And she responded like any normal ditzy girl would do and promptly tackled me to the ground, yanking at my hair.

My smirk disappeared the instant she pulled my hair again. I used my six years training in martial arts skills and fought her off a little more roughly, with normal punches and kicks and the like.

It was only when a sharp stiletto heel rammed into her shin did she notice she was losing. Someone had finally yanked us apart. Her hair was wild, and mine just a little tugged. She stared at me for a second with wide eyes, before lunging at me again. I side-stepped her and she fell straight out the open hall door, landing on her hands on the cement. She looked up at me for a second, finally noticing she wasn’t a match, and then stood, running away as fast as a toothpick girl can.

I smirked, as previously mentioned, and spun walked back in, clicking down the hall to find my best friend.

So hello, I’m Candy, and I’m anything but sweet.

--

Really uberly short first chapter. Sorry ‘bout that.

Listened to My Leftovers while writing this. Blame them. XD

So yes, I like reviews.

-Jaws