Chapter One:
Evil Hot Clowns That Make You Want To Have Wild Messy Steaming and Possibly Life Threatening Mokey Sex With Them Should Not Be Messed With.

He was like a cockroach.

A really hot cockroach, but still, a cockroach.

A sneaky little cockroach.

Yeah, that’s what he is. A cockroach.

Because he’s sneaky like that.

It was the start of The Hoopla. I was supposed to gather four guys with me in a janitor’s closet, and I don’t even know who they are (personally).

Although I do know the cockroach now, on account of him sneaking up on me.

I was standing in front of the school’s doors, people passing by me, not even taking a second look to see who I was. I wasn’t the kind to draw attention. But he is.

The reason I was standing there was because I was pondering.

Yeah, pondering, ‘cause I’m cool like that.

I was thinking of how I was acting like those snails in the biology documentary we watched the other day. Some kind of worm would infest their body and control their minds. The worms make them kill their selves.

I don’t really wanna die. Or give birth.

And I didn’t even feel him coming.

The first thing I felt was his breath—not that it was stinky—it was warm.

He placed his hands on each of my shoulders from behind me, and then leaned closer to whisper.

“Ver-baby” I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Did you dream it?” and then he chortled.

THE EVIL CLOWN!

I turned around to face him.

No clown. Just evil.

It was Aidan Wolfe.

I wasn’t usually scared of him (okay, so I am). But wouldn’t you be scared if you saw someone with a black smoke-like figure that resembles The Grim Reaper surrounding him?

I know I would be.

I could have sworn I’d pee in my pants. But I didn’t.

Like he wasn’t scary enough before.

What do I mean? Well, Aidan Wolfe, you see, is the resident eccentric. He is known to be a pyromaniac. That’s why they keep a close eye on him in Chemistry. And he’s rumored to set fire on things, just to watch them burn. He’s also a transvestite—sorta. He doesn’t dress like a girl all the time. Just sometimes. I think he does drugs, too.

And teachers predict that he’ll be a future criminal mastermind.

He’s smart—but he uses his brain for evil!

And I’m not just saying this to justify my fear of him.

…yeah.

Oh, and everything he owns has burn marks.

But that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important, is that there’s something surrounding him—something evil!—and other people don’t seem to notice it. Or maybe they do, and they see it all the time and this is like the norm for them now! ‘Cause they see it all the time!

How come I only saw it now?

He saw that I was eyeing the smoke-figure. “She’s my daughter, darling—or at least she used to be.”

And that’s when I noticed that everyone was staring at us. Great.

I felt my cheeks heating up, and he must’ve seen them too, because he chortled even more! The bastard.

So, yeah, I pretty much ran into the school building—I could have sworn I bumped into two or more people, but whatever. Eventually, I got to my locker. And he was right there behind me!

Does he have some kind of teleportation power or something?

He rolled his eyes “No, I ran after you, duh.”

Oh.

Wait! He can read minds! SHIT!

“Uh, no. You were saying that out loud, honey.” He bopped his head up and down, repeatedly. Like a kid would when asked if he wants candy. Except he had an amused expression on his face instead of an eager one. “Never got rid of that old habbit, huh, Ver-baby?”

I stared at him. (No. Not because he’s a hot badass kid. I think.)

He needs help.

And why does he keep calling me Ver-baby?

My forehead creased in concentration as I attempted to read his mind.

“Dear, you look constipated.” He placed a hand on each side of my head, and used his thumbs to smooth out my forehead. “There we go!” He had his arms slightly spread, like how a lovely assistant would present a magician, or something.

Well that was traumatizing.

Since mind reading was out, I guess I have to ask him. “Why do you call me Ver-baby?”

GASP! I didn’t stutter! Or pee in my pants!

I’m acting like all this hoopla is an everyday occurrence, now. Great. He contaminated my pure and innocent mind.

“Because, darling.” He said, exasperated. “I know you as Verdandi.” He must’ve seen the confused expression on my face. “The Norn?” he gestured with one hand, twirling it, like he was mixing the air. “Goddess of the present? Norse Mythology?” The confused expression did not leave. “Darling, you’ve got to read more—a normal person would at least know what Norse Mythology is.”

I decided to ignore his latter words and concentrate on the first ones.

“I am not Verdandi—whoever that is—I’m Belle.” He quirked up one of his eyebrows. “Yeah. You must have the wrong person.”

“No, no, I don’t have the wrong person—I know you’re Verdandi.” The expression on his face—usually an arrogant smirk—softened into something like, nostalgia? “Whatever, dear. Let’s start over, shall we? I seem to have scared you.”

So he only noticed the not-so-subtle stepping away and the quick glances at possible escape roots now?

He cleared his throat and extended his hand to me “I’m Aidan Wolfe, a bit eccentric—” A BIT?! “but I like it that way.” He paused to think of something else to say. “Oh!” He chuckled a bit.

Damn, he’s cute.

“Don’t worry about the black smoke surrounding me. She’s just visiting—she’ll go back to Hell later.” He probably saw the still-frightened expression on my face.

I almost forgot about the smoke.

“She can’t hurt you, don’t worry.”

Well, I do need to lock him up in a janitor’s closet with other people, so why not be friendly right? Maybe he’ll help me find the other guys later.

I took his extended hand and shook it “I’m Belle Caulfield—”

“Like Holden Caulfeild?” He interrupted

“Yes, like Holden Caulfeild.” I cleared my throat “As I was saying, I’m Belle Caulfield and—” I remembered the dream “I don’t wanna give birth yet.”

With that, the bell rang at the same time as he started laughing.

I ran to my class then, but not before looking at him among the fast-walking students who just stared at him and rolled their eyes—they’re probably used to him—I noticed how he stood out. And it wasn’t because he had a smoke-figure around him. It was like he was superior to them in a way. Not in an arrogant way, it was like an I-understand-the-world-and-you-don’t way.

Okay, that was weird.

When I sat down at my usual lunch table in the cafeteria, I had every intention of eating my packed lunch that I love so much. (It was what my mother calls Hammy Paradise.) But I somehow got distracted, and started thinking about stuff.

It could have been because of the fly that kept flying above my head, or maybe it was all the noise the jocks were making, whatever it was, it distracted me from my lunch.

I was pondering again. This time about why I should go on with the “Lock-up Four Guys You Don’t Know in a Janitor’s Closet Plan”. I had no reason to do it, so why should I? It’s not like the faith of the world depends on it right?

I thought about deciding that I’m not going through with it, and it was like the urge to eat something weird that pregnant women get, in a twisted and very wrong way.

Nah, locking people up in a janitor’s closet is too fun to pass out. And I can creep them out when I tell them that I did it because of a dream! Except Aidan, of course, things like this must be like an everyday occurrence to him.

Or I could already be pregnant! SHIT.

Okay, where did that come from? Aidan must be contaminating me more than I think.

I going to grab the juice box my mom packed for me (yeah. Juice box.) but it wasn’t there!

It was in the hands of the evilest person ever.

He loomed above me with a pissed of look on his face. Like he just went through hell or something.

Speaking of hell, the smoke-figure’s still there. But fore some reason, it wasn’t as scary as before.

“Dude, give her back her juice.” So, with that, I noticed the guy standing by him. I don’t recognize him, but he seemed to be a friend of Aidan’s with the way he was talking to him. But I could be wrong—he seemed kind of wary of him.

Aidan sat across me and the other guy sat down with him.

“Sorry about him, we just went through AP Calculus. There was a Pop Quiz.” The guy explained.

Wow, AP Calculus. Never saw that one coming. I thought he’d be more into science or something.

The guy snorted and rested his head on the table “Dunno why he’s so upset, it’s not like he ever fails anything.”

“Shut up, Hunty-pooh.” Said Aidan, sounding quite chipper, as he reached for my food.

I slapped his hands away “Hunty-pooh?” I stared at his friend in question.

He straightened and looked at me “I’m Hunter Sinclair. He gave me that nickname as soon as he found out my name’s Hunter.” He looked at his friend “Man, her slap couldn’t have hurt that much.” Aidan was rubbing his hand on the spot where I slapped him, while effectively attracting some female spectators with his puppy-dog pout. “Stop being a baby.” They must be really close if he can talk to him like that. Most people would be scared shitless.

Hunter Sinclair. Where have I heard that before? Hunter… THE DREAM!

I abruptly stood up, surprising Hunter, but not Aidan.

“I need to lock you in a janitor’s closet!” I pointed at him with a triumphant smile on my face.

The muscle below his eye twitched. “Dude, why does that not surprise me?” He threw his hand up in the air, and stared at the ceilling. I winced at his behalf staring at lights ain’t cool, yo. “First that—that smoke thing” So he sees it too! “Now, this.”

“You know I had a dream with a clown, a clock, a pervert and a lumberjack last night? And we were all playing poker.” He looked at me then. “And then, when I woke up, felt like I should be locked in a closet later.” Hunter sighed exasperated “And I have a feeling Aidan’s somehow associated with this.”

I informed him that I had a dream like that, but instead of a clock there was a trumpet player.

We both looked at Aidan for an explanation—he just stared back, slightly dazed (I bet he’s been doing drugs!).

He quirked his left brow at us. That was it. Oh, and he stole my sandwich and was currently having his way with it.

I then asked Hunter about his relationship with Aidan.

“So… What’s up with you and the Devil Incarnate?”

He said they were best friends. They’ve known each other since pre-school. And Aidan has always been weird. But apparently he got weirder today, with the smoke-figure and all. “And he’s not that bad.” He added.

“I told you, she’s Hel. The Norse equivalent of Hades, you know? The ruler of the underworld?” He stared pointedly at the both of us “I’ve told you before, right?”

“Might as well believe it, dearies.” He said shrugging “Unless you’d rather believe that you both have acquired some mental disorder that makes you see The Grim Reaper in a smoky black form behind eccentric transvestites.” He quirked an eyebrow at us.

He quickly wolfed down my sandwich, and stood up to leave. Without saying another word to me, or to Hunter.

And they say they’re best friends!

I stared at Hunter, hopping he can read minds and provide me with some information.

“What?” He asked “Dude. Stop staring.” He stared back at me.

“You guys are really friends?” I asked him, a bit unsure

“Yeah.” He chuckled “Hell, yeah.”

“Then why…?” I gestured to Aidan’s form, far away in the distance, about to exit the cafeteria.

“He’s got some AP class again—I only have AP calculus, so… yeah.” He nodded.

I noted that he seemed sadden by this—the fact that they don’t share classes. Or maybe because Aidan was smarter—I dunno.

“He’s so fucked-up, you know?” He said, jabbing his thumb towards the exit, where Aidan just went through. “But he refuses to submit to the cliques, he says.” He rolled his eyes and scoffed “He doesn’t wasn’t to be a nerd, a jock—like his brother—or a punk.” He gestured at himself. His hair was the most attention catching of all of him. It was bright blue, after all. “Or anything for that matter. But eventually they still categorized him.” He chortled a bit, he probably got it from Aidan, but it didn’t have the same effect “He got so mad about that. Especially since his brother was the first one who called him PGWPDFNDF.” He kept chortling.

Whatever.

“Huh?”

“Punk-Goth-Whore-Pervert-Druggie-Freak-Nerd-Dork-Faggot.” He chuckled “He said that they should have just made him his own clique.”

The bell rang then.

Hi there. :D

Sort of finished this chapter. I’m sooooooo cool.

And I also just finished “The Catcher in The Rye” by J.D. (Jerome David) Salinger.

Then I moved on to King Dork by Frank Portman (aka )

So, deries, how do you like my Fucked-up evil clown?

Oh! And guess who the peoples are supposed to be and why!! :D

(although most are obvious.)

They Drug My Muffiens (muffins).
Translation: Please READ&REVIEW
And I shall love you. (in a platonic way.)