HERO COMPLEX

C h a p t e r O n e :
Once Upon A Time

you know I could help her mend her broken wings
so she can fly again

—Fallen Angel, Chris Brown

You know how everything is nice and hazy when you're dreaming? Yeah, I live for that. It's my escape from this hell. The one place I can be a princess in a fairytale world, and not have to worry about getting homework and chores done on time. Knowing my luck, though, some jerkwad always comes and fucks everything up.

I don't really remember much when I wake up; trapped in that state between dreams and the real world. It's confusing. Especially when you're violently ripped away from pleasant cloudy ignorance, and the culprit is still in the room calling your name.

"Ella, for Christ's sake, wake up!"

My eyes flew open, which was kind of at odds with my physical state - that is, not being able to move my body at all (for reasons of lethargy). Thoughts inhabited with sweet vengeful murder, I squinted up at the silhouette hovering over my bed in a rather strange fashion. My body still wanted sleep. And even worse, I'd been having a very interesting dream, involving myself, my favourite artist, and marriage.

It was, of course, my "housekeeper" Anastasia. "You could've given me a chance…" I started to say, my speech garbled.

"I gave you four chances!" said Ana, crossing her arms over her chest. I wasn't so much scared of her (slightly terrifying) scowl as much as I was surprised she actually understood what I'd said. Her eternally straight black hair was pulled into a clip behind her head, her dark eyes flashing promised retribution. "Four! I called your name, whispered your name, shouted your name, and you being the stubborn arse y'are, still refused to wake up."

Ah, that made sense. No wonder in my dream the lead singer kept repeating, "Ella… wake up!" at the altar. I sighed, then buried my head in my pillow, my tangled mass of brown hair fanning out behind my head. Ana sighed in frustration.

Without much further ado, she quite literally stomped out of my "room" and down the stairs, but not before informing me to get my "bloody ass out of bed so (I) won't be late for (my) first day of school!"

I was starting my senior year at Castleview Collegiate, and I will heartily admit to not being as enthusiastic about it as the rest of my "family" would like. Last year, you see, I was in my fifth year at a prestigious private school near Newbury, England. My father Leland, Anastasia, myself and our cat Fey lived comfortably in a townhouse in London. It was a fairly far commute daily, but I got into habit. I've always been a morning person. Having to transfer from a private education to a public form is daunting enough, but it makes it all the more difficult when the school one's transferring to happens to be in another country.

My older stepsister, Crystle, poked her head into my attic-bedroom, and gave me a mock smile. Her pretty pink lips pulled up slightly, oddly fitting with that malicious look in her eyes. "Oh yes, first day of school," she said. "Don't forget to pack a lunch!" Her horrible, squealing laugh accompanied her departure down the stairs. I glanced at my clock. 7:15.

It was, I could tell already, going to be a long day.

xox

Breakfast was usually an uneventful meal, as it was the same every morning since I arrived at this awful house. Crystle with her perfect manners and perky little face would smile prettily over that disgustingly small dried "protein" grain food she ate, but only until Anastasia, my one other ally, made her departure. Crystle's mother Driselda ignored me for the most part. As I learned within the first week of living here, being ignored was preferable. Fifteen-year-old Hattie (who was three years younger than Crystle, and two years younger than myself) was as dimwitted as it got. I would have felt sorry for the poor girl if she wasn't as awful to me as her sister and mother were.

This morning would have been no different, except Driselda had suddenly taken it upon herself to properly inform me that everything I was doing, I was doing wrong.

"Eleanore, dear, please don't chew with your mouth open," said Driselda, even though I hadn't yet taken a bite of my food. She was the only one who still called me Eleanore, even Crystle and Hattie didn't. "It makes you look like a common farm animal, which you aren't by far."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, mother," said Crystle, picking up on her mother's open-ended insult. "I'm sure Ella could pass perfectly as a farm animal."

I managed to swallow down the piece of pancake that was in my mouth, suddenly no longer hungry. Finding out that my weight issues were my weakness only made my stepfamily that much more horrid towards me. I felt the urge to prod my stomach, awfully sure that I was bulging through the shirt I wore.

"How does Ella look like a farm animal?" Hattie questioned, looking back and forth between her sister and her mother. Driselda and Crystle could have passed as twins; both having the same long blond hair, vaguely blue eyes, and bonily slender figures. Poor Hattie apparently resembled their father, with her stringy pale brown hair, ruddy complexion, and round build.

Driselda sighed at her daughters remark, adopting what appeared to be a pained, suffering expression. Crystle smiled again, opening her mouth and revealing rows of long teeth. Crystle had the kind of face you didn't want to smile. She showed lots of her gum and very little of her bottom row of teeth; generally, she was much nicer to look at when she wasn't smiling. Even closed-mouth smiles on her were creepy - I caught one on her once, and she quite looked like the Grinch.

Before I could be embarrassed any further, I pushed back from the table, taking my half-eaten boxcake (as I called the pancake mix Anastasia now used) with me.

"Please excuse me," I said, mustering all the politeness I could. I trod sideways quietly, as to not disturb the sudden silence, then quickly left the dining room.

After finishing my toiletries, I left the character-less house and made my way to my new school. I was fortunate enough to have a fairly good sense of direction (a product of all my commuting, possibly?), and so by the time I reached the school I just missed the "first bell". It was worth it, I figured, as even getting lost was preferable to spending any unspecified amount of time in an enclosed space with Driselda and her precious daughters.

It was times like that, that I wished my father weren't away.

xox

Castleview Collegiate Institute was slightly larger than my old school, but built in a similar fashion, I was pleased to find. When I entered the main foyer, I was slightly taken aback at the dim lighting (due to lack of windows) and general filth of the place. Of course, it probably wasn't incredibly dirty, just not the sanitizer-clean I'm used to.

No one waited to greet me, only silence. I checked the time; 9:00. So… now what? To my left, a pair of doors evenly spaced apart; a plaque placed between them. To my right, a short hall, a flight of stairs, more plaques. Directly in front of me the foyer spread much larger than I would have expected, right up to the stairs that cut off in three different directions.

A man was heading my way, too old to be a student, but too young to be a teacher. A whistle and a pair of keys hung separately on what appeared to be ribbons around his neck, and he held a walkie-talkie in his right hand. When he saw me, he locked eyes and headed right to wear I was standing.

Oh good, I rejoiced. An actual human being.

"Don't you have class?" were the first words out of his mouth. I blinked, stuttered, then got my words in order.

"Well I should. I'm new here."

"Oh, then you'll want to visit the office and get your timetable. Do you know where it is?"

I shook my head no, marvelling at how alien this all was to me. He lead me down the short hallway to my left, which he'd just entered, and dropped me off by the gum-chewing, flat-eyed secretaries who eventually took care of the rest.

On my way to my first period class (of which I was now a good half hour or so late), I reflected on what I'd just been told - this was my schedule until the end of the year, the school wasn't semestered, I'd be assigned a locker number later, this class was my homeroom. Once I turned 18, I could sign out of school without parental admission, sign my own permission forms, vote, move out, buy porn… until then, I still needed my father's or Driselda's signed permission. Fat chance. At least the locker gave me something to look forward to at the end of the day.

My first class was grade twelve English, on the second floor. I happened to notice the library on my way up, and vowed to take a look in whenever I had the time. Perhaps at lunch, seeing as I probably wouldn't be welcomed to eat with Crystle, and I couldn't see myself getting friendly with my fellow students in the period of time before lunch. Once, that would have been different. Were my mates not available, I would have just become friendly with someone else. I used to be confident in my chumming skills.

A black-and-silver plaque on the door read: Media Studies. The gray paint was worn and chipped. And yet, this school was much younger than the one I went to back home. With a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

Behind this solid plank of wood, I heard the murmur of North American accents and quick footsteps. I had no time to run away before a short, chubby woman, her graying hair flying loosely around her head, cautiously opened the door. I handed her the slip of paper I'd been given at the office, and she glanced at it for a moment before her eyes grew large in excitement. "A new student!" she cried, ushering me inside. My eyes widened at this woman's forcefulness, then shut at the brightness in the room. "I am Ms Pearson, welcome to grade twelve university English!"

Ms Pearson was the type of person who would stand you in the middle of the class so that all her students could wish you a warm welcome. Which is exactly what she did for me. "Everyone, this is Eleanore Delalune."

"It's Ella," I corrected as she absent-mindedly seated me in the front row, second seat from the tall windows. I set my book bag next to the connecting desk and chair, then placed my head in my arms. Ms Pearson hadn't heard my correction, she was too busy scurrying back to her desk and looking through papers for something that seemed to be eluding her.

"Don't bother. She'll still call you by your given name. Trust me, I've had her for three years already."

Lazily, I peered over my left shoulder at the person sitting next to me, then immediately felt myself turning pink. He appeared to be your typical 'musician' type; his hair (while not quite long), was light brown and fell just above his eyes. Hazel-green eyes, slightly crooked nose, and a sweet smile in my direction. Feeling relieved to meet someone who seemed genuinely nice, I smiled. My face stretched in ways that were unusual after long periods of misuse.

"Yeah, thanks," I said. "I like your shirt." He was wearing a black t-shirt decorated with the words Violent Femmes. I didn't know who or what the Violent Femmes were.

"Why thank you," he laughed, looking down at it, then back at me. "Oh, I'm Char. Char Princeton."

"Ella," I said, even though he'd already heard my name. As we traded names, I discreetly studied the angles of his face. It was almost heart shaped, his jaw line defined.

I was somewhat delayed in noticing that Char had been doing his own face-staring, but more directed at my eyes than anything else. They're funny, my eyes. It's not that they change, but depending on the light they could be taken for shades between dark gray and light hazel.

"Charmont Princeton," said Ms Pearson. Char snapped out of his scrutiny of me, looking a little embarrassed, and announced that he was present. I blushed again.

"So… where are you from, exactly?" he asked me, turning in his seat to face my direction. I nearly snorted. Of course he would ask that, no doubt already knowing the answer.

"I'm from a small town in Texas, United States of America."

A smile spread across his lips. It was a nice smile, a smile I could quickly learn to like. It wasn't suave, cocky, or even embarrassed. It was shy and sweet, and had me smiling back at him.

"That would have been my second guess."

I stifled my inclination towards sarcasm, deciding to let him off easy… for now. "England," I said between a smile. "Originally a small town west of London. Kind of obvious, yeah?"

"Kind of. That's really cool."

"Thanks." I sat up and stretched in my seat. "I kind of miss it every once in a while."

Char tilted his head resting in on his hand to watch me. The rest of the class chattered away as Ms Pearson announced, mostly unheard, that she was heading to her car to find those introductory sheets she thought she brought with her.

"Why'd you come?"

"Me dad." When I got emotional, I reverted to a harder accent. "He got remarried to this absolute wi-" realising where I was, I stopped. If I told Char about my feelings towards Driselda, he'd start asking questions, and I didn't feel like conveying all my humiliations by that family to a cute boy I'd just met. I covered up the sudden stop with a cough.

Char seemed to pick up on the not-so-subtle hint. "Ah."

There was silence for a moment, only broken by the sounds of the class chatting. Feeling restless, my hand reached for my book bag, pulling out my schedule from the front pocket.

"Let's see your timetable," Char said, a hand out to the folded piece of paper I held. "I could probably show you around the school, if you want."

I passed it to him, my eyes on his hands. He played the guitar. I could tell from the imprints of the strings left in his fingertips. He was also left-handed.

Char Princeton… I thought with a smile, watching him as he studied my schedule. I could really fancy this one. Oh wait, I already do.

A name or two borrowed from the lovely Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine. Rated for mentions of suicide, swearing, dark thoughts, and general emo-ness :D .

Please see my profile for a longer story summary as well as pictures from the characters. Revised and reposted. Prepare for changes.

Because of the repost, I will list my beautiful reviewers here; I really appreciate all the encouragement and the strong constructive criticism I recieved. Names were bolded for all the reviewers who took the time to leave more than one review. Huge, enormous, gigantic thanks to:

Espantalho
angels and effects
WitnessTheHealingPowerOfMusic
lack-of-oxygen
Mina
SolisLuna
glittericious
BrighterNeonLight
distractmefromreality
Kendyl Burch
vimaro22
CapoeiraChic
Lilac Kisses
. .Lulian. .
Katatza
Vampire's Desire
The Fourth Fate
eliza-smiles
Aphrodides
stealingzephyrs
Quincy06
Alenor
Wendy-Chan

K. S. Kayde
xoxluurve
Aurorablu
HanLiv
selkiewings
kelloggs256

I dedicate the rewritten story to you guys, I hope you enjoy it. :)

-Symph