A/N hey, this stofry has been a long time in the running, but I still haven’t really got a good idea of where it’s going to go. Let me know whether you like it or not - I will be happy to return reviews etc. Erg...this chapter needs improving, and it’s fairly short. Any advice is very welcome :) I'm going to order the chapters according to the periodic table (H is 1, He is 2 etc). Seriously don't think I'll get past Zinc though!

H: Damn Dead Russian Chemists

Kal

I collect things: matchsticks, books, memorabilia mainly, the sort of stuff that makes me happy and who I am. My new room is becoming a grotto of old railway signs and figurines and colour. It is beyond cool.

"This place is a tip."

This comes from my older brother who is twenty six, unemployed, and still lives at home with our Dad. His idea of a hobby is making sure that he watches the football at least five times a week. He picks up my Skeletor action figure - mint condition, in the box, thank you very much - with a smirk.

"Sad," he says firmly. "You need a girl, Kal."

"Screw you."

Jim laughs and puts Skeletor back on top of the fridge - crooked, of course. I straighten him irritably.

"It's a collector's item," I say coldly, before deciding to speak in a language that he might actually be able to understand. "These things go for a lot on ebay."

"So sell them all," Jim snorts.

I give him a long look; he might as well have just asked me to strip naked and run through town. "That's not the point. I've been collecting these for years. I can't just sell them; I collect them to have them, not to make money by selling them to people who won't appreciate them-"

"Like you do? Someone who won't love them like you do?" He laughs loudly and walks over to my suitcase. As he pulls out a large laminated poster of the periodic table, his smug grin grows.

"Exactly," I say. "No one will love them like I do. No one will tuck them into bed every night like me, no one will take them out for expensive meals like me, and no one will knit them little jumpers for when they're cold like me." I think I might be taking this too far, but mocking myself is easy, and it's nice to do it before Jim does.

"How are you my brother?"

I smile at him politely and start to explain exactly how sex works. I am a biologist, after all, and we love sex. Yes, oocyte activation by fertilisation makes me break out into a hot sweat every time I think about it. Jim likes to believe that while he wanks over naked girls with fake tits, I choose diagrams of chromosomes. Who can blame him? I am his pet freak-brother. And chromosomes are cool.

Jim rolls his eyes and tells me that I have a serious problem.

"Well, sometimes, when I lie in bed alone, I think about meiosis. All night long."

"A serious problem," he says again.

The problem? That I am a nerd. Yes, these things probably should be screened before birth, but the country is run by nerds and our natural instinct is to proliferate. We are the stem cells of England and we kick arse. Jim pretends not to like what I am, but in reality it gives him something to talk about. Whenever he brings a new slag home and I'm there, they have something to scoff over - I make quite a nice little conversation piece. I don't know what he would do if I was popular and good-looking and didn't talk to dead scientists on a regular basis. I guess his inferiority complex would double. Or maybe triple. Yes, my brother has his issues too.

Jim leaves when we've had time to unpack everything and grab some lunch from town - two meal deals, I picked the bean wrap. He gives me a slightly awkward pat on the back, smiles, and gives me some brotherly advice to help me on my journey through university.

"Don't fuck up."

Deep.

I watch his bashed up car drive away like it's happening in slow motion. Folding my arms, I feel weirdly cold and alone. Well, maybe not weirdly; I am alone. Completely alone. I don't know this college, and I certainly don't know any of the weird clever people who live here. When Jim and I first arrived, we caught a couple of girls in the corridor comparing calculators - graphical calculators with manuals bigger than your head, calculators that would blind you if you ever tried to work them out. Sexy. Now these girls are 'my sort of people', but I am still scared. How am I meant to get on with anyone new if I barely even know myself most of the time?

"I am a confident, attractive human being."

No, I am talking to myself. At the very best, that makes me pathetic.

I go back into the building and look around for people to talk to. The corridor is long and brown and empty, except for a few pieces of rubbish and the strange posters that are Sellotaped onto some of the doors. I hear footsteps echoing from upstairs, but I don't wait to see who they belong to, and, with the smell of polish and newness and intimidation itching in my nose, I walk quickly back into my beautiful new room.

If killing time was a real crime, I'd be a fucking psychopath serial killer with a nerdy-looking mug shot. Hell yes. Always fear the ones with science degrees. I sit on my bed, reading through various pink forms. My welcome talk is in an hour, and, bored out of my brain, I stab at each second with an imaginary compass.

Five minutes later, and I'm trying to name all of the amino acids. I see them dancing about in my mind, R groups wiggling rhythmically. Even with my imagination's help, I only get up to seventeen, and even forget shitting proline. Staring at the ceiling, where I've tacked up my lovely periodic table - despite the no blu-tak rule that our college has (I am a superstar rebel) - I sigh and wonder when uni life is going to get fun. It is meant to be fun, isn't it? Jim painted this picture of thousands of hot girls throwing themselves around and just begging to be loved, but then Jim never actually went to uni, and Jim doesn't have glasses and a subscription to Nature.

Argon shines at me encouragingly.

"Thanks, Argon."

But the bed I'm lying on is still cold and foreign. Everything is new and different here; even the water tastes odd, it's softer here - calcium has betrayed me.

"Did you ever feel like you didn't fit in?"

Dmitri Mendeleev, who contributed to the table above me, was a chemist, and Russian. Uber-cool. Strangely enough, though, however cool he was, he doesn't reply. I swear drearily at him, before rolling over, pulling the thin duvet around my shoulders, and closing my eyes. At least Argon is nice to me.

I am asleep within minutes, and dreaming of glass houses. I dream of imaginary tea and biscuits, teddy bears and dirty sex. I dream about sweat and blood and mathematics. I dream of the girl I might have loved once, her shadowy face long, ghostlike and unfamiliar, but the feeling of having her close to me exactly the same.

I realise, when I wake up, that I still miss Olivia. It's been eight years. I don't know what she looks like now. Eight years. Shit.

I look drearily at my digital alarm clock and realise that I have been asleep for hours. More importantly, I've missed my welcome meeting, along with its free wine.

Free wine? Damn. Now that's just insanely tragic. A truly devastating blow to my university career so far, surely.

I sigh, stretch, and hit something squashy with my elbow. Something squashy that was not there before.

Something soft, warm and pink is snuggled up to me. Okay then.

It takes me a few moments to realise that soft, warm, pink things don't often find their way into my bed. I'm a nerd, but I'm not smart.

Always the fan of carefully planned experiments, I poke the pink thing and it grunts. Fun.

"What?"

"Erm, excuse me?" I ask, sliding out of my bed and standing up. I'm still not entirely sure whether I'm actually awake; this could just be part of my twisted dream.

"Yes?" A girl rolls over, yawns and smiles at me. I am pretty sure that I have never seen this girl before in my life. Pretty sure. But then why is she in my bed? I think merrily for a few moments that this could be some parallel universe that I've accidentally stumbled into. Just think of all the science-related joy that would bring. While I am quite happy to drool over this idea for several hours, I have more likely things to deal with first. I don't lose hope, though.

"Who are you?"

The girl crawls out of my bed. She's short and round and brunette and wearing a tutu. She's grinning at me.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Kal," I say, before adding, "with a K." I am not just cool, I am dry ice cool.

"Kal with a K? Do your parents hate you?"

I don't reply. My real name is Caleb, but I decided six years ago that Superman was cool. Kal-el. Voice of God. Yes, definitely me. This is why I never admit to my real name; it involves far less humiliation, and humiliation is bad for the blood pressure, and hypertension can lead to atherosclerosis.

The girl looks down and adjusts her tutu, which is beginning to rise up over her large pink thighs.

"Fresher?"

I nod, feeling slightly terrified. Maybe Jim was actually right about girls at uni. Jim? Right? Maybe this is a parallel universe. Or, like, completely different. Perpendicular. Oh God, I'm not a physicist, I don't know.

"Me too. I'm Grace." She holds out a hand and I shake it nervously.

"Grace," I say slowly. "Why were you in my bed?"

She shrugs. "Mine was taken. Ed was in it, collecting hair or something."

"Erm..."

"Yeah, he's a little odd. Must be bright as fuck, otherwise God knows why they let him in."

"Okay?"

She smiles cockily and tilts her head to one side. "Don't worry, hun," she says huskily. "You were awesome." She leans over and gives me a slow kiss on the cheek. I‘m pretty sure that I feel her hot tongue running up my cheek, but, before I can say anything, she‘s walking away and closing the door behind her.

Dazzled, I jump back onto my bed and stare at the periodic table. Argon is still gleaming at me, but Krypton squats below it looking moody.

"What the Hell was that all about?"

Olivia

Mum cries when she hugs me goodbye. Her big wet tears leak through my cardigan and soak my shoulder, and I can feel her shaking against me. It's like I'm dying or something.

"Mum, let me go!" I say with a laugh. I'm being serious, though; I have things to do, people to see, free wine to sample. Now is my time to finally shine, but Mum clings onto me for minutes, and everyone walking past us with suitcases and duvets stares.

"I'm going to miss you, love," Mum says.

"Yeah," I say, pulling away with a smile. "I'll miss you too."

And I'm sure I will, as long as I'm not too busy living my wonderful, crazy new life and bagging myself a gorgeous boyfriend and being happy. They're all going to love me here - I'm going to make them all love me. Yes, they're all going to love me and I'm going to love them, and I'll be so damn popular that other girls will kill to be me. I can't fricking wait.

I give her a kiss on each cheek. Yes, tres European, darling. How very fashionable of me. Fashionable. A most beautiful word to describe me. I’ve bought fabulous new clothes, got myself an edgy hairstyle, and decked myself out with confidence, the most fashionable accessory of all.

Mum wipes away a tear and grins at me. She's proud, I know she is, and that makes me feel warm and happy inside. No one's ever really been proud of me before, and it was a complete surprise that I actually managed to get an offer here. It was even more of a surprise that I got the grades I needed.

A complete surprise? Well, not, perhaps, to me. I know that I can do anything I want if I just try hard enough - that's my secret. See, this is all part of my metamorphosis into the girl that I've always wanted to be. I'm going to become a beautiful butterfly, just like The Hungry Caterpillar.

I set my smile to stun as my mum gets into the car, and I wave until I can't see her anymore. Then, I turn and walk back inside to start my new life.

As I push the doors open, I ache with hope and pray silently that it will be completely different to the old one.