a/n: Greetings, my oh-so-dear readers! I am tickled pink that you would read my work, and I dearly hope you enjoy it! Iron Fist, Rubber Gut

Chapter 1

The Terrible Beginning

Ok, the main thing here is that I am more or less an emotional person. Well, I cry easily, and throw fits easily, and sure, I even have my super perverted moments when I just want a piece of ass.

The closest I have ever gotten to achieving said ass, was the time I walked in on Uncle Rusry. Uncle Rusry also known as the bleached whale is not a pleasant sight at six in the morning, especially in the nude, or otherwise.

Anyway, I've never really made friends all too easily, either. Everybody thinks I am some freaky gothic kid just because I sit in the back of the room and draw all day.

It's a form of self-expression, dammit!

Well, the reason people avoid me, could also be because my dad's a well known druggie, and because I was always the weird kid in school, always spewing some freaky psycho-babble about the 'meaning of life' and whatnot.

I've learned from a young age, to not EVER express your true opinion on things, lest you want people to freak, and point at you, ranting on about 'Gang banger!' and all that stuff.

But, really, I am just a genuinely nice person. I'm nice to everybody. Well, unless you're prep. Or a jock. Or that weird guy in Bio that insists on looking down my shirt. Oh, and I HATE you if you're a teacher. Minus Mrs. Macy. She's my English teacher, and she ROCKS


What's to complain about?

I'll tell you what.

The day that that stupid Jordan Steely walked into my perfect life, everything got screwed up.

How was I supposed to know that dropping my lunch tray on some random guy would cause him to make me his slave?

How was I supposed to know he was lactose intolerant?

And how the hell was I supposed to know he had seven girl friends, all of which want to kill me anyway?!

For Pete's sake, how was I supposed to know he had a thing for tall brunettes, sexuality aside?!

What was I supposed to do!?

I was an innocent girl trapped in an endless cycle of rabid fan girls after my non-thong clad ass, one more hormonal driven Bio partner after said ass for a whole 'nother reason, AND a non-believer for a best-friend.

I swear, if I were half as depressed as everybody says I am, I would be happily resting

At the bottom of the lake.

But nooo….

Me being me, and my mom being the sadist that she is, I was forced out of bed, and continued on the day that would unbeknownst to me, the worst day of my life.

It began as usual, you know the routine…brush teeth, take shower, eat toast, race after retarded bus/bus driver.

I go to a private school. You know, the kind where all the rich snot-noses go, and the teachers thrive on liposuction. Apparently, we're too cool to move from our seats, so the teachers switch around, and the kids just sort of sit there. It's a good idea, but my ass-cheeks were falling asleep.

Just as I was getting REALLY into my drawing of a ten-headed warrior making sushi of my history teacher, said teacher cleared his throat a few times, bobbed his head, and announced in an unnecessarily loud voice that we had a new student.

I have to admit, I was interested. The last new kid had been cut down. Not only was he flattened in the football field, but it was seen personally by the seniors that he never landed a date. As in, they hung his teddy-jock strap on the school flagpole. Once it was brought down, there was a public sight of a 'bloody' tampon strapped on the inside.

I felt a bit bad for the kid. Only, nobody actually knew his name, we just called him 'new kid'.

New kid quit after a mere week and a half. Let's see how this one fares.

Mr. History Teacher slammed his large hand on the back of an average-sized boy. Said average sized boy was one with looks slightly above average. You know, the quintessential skater-boy hair only his wasn't curly, it was more like heavily layered and average-sized boy also had one of those irritatingly strong jaws, and pointy chins. He also had these stupid angular cheekbones that made him look all high and mighty. Hah!

I didn't like him.

I didn't like average-sized boy one bit.

He was just another good-looking asshole.

Mr. History Teacher gave average-sized boy another good thump on the back for good measure, but average-sized boy didn't budge. I got one of those thumps once. It felt a little like an ostrich reeling you a good one.

"Tell us your name, boy!" Mr. History Teacher had an annoying voice. It just sort of grated along your ears; you have to be careful if you listen to his voice for too long, you might become deaf. Which is why any self-respecting student tunes him out within five minutes of him entering class.

Average-sized boy's cerulean eyes darted for a split second towards Mr. History Teacher, and a ghost of a smile-no-a smirk arrogant bastard flitted across his thin lips, and with a sculpted brow arched expertly, he practically sang, "Jordan. Jordan Steely"

I swear, the entire female population of the class excluding myself, of course nearly swooned. Faces were turning a pathetic strawberry color, and girls were instantly whipping out compacts, and caking on more make-up, in vain attempts to impress the new "Hottie"

I continued to chew on my hair, in utter, utter, blissful peace. It was then, that Morgan, school cheerleader, boobs bigger than her brain, and a head of artificially straightened hair'dropped' her pencil, and biting her pouty lip, she bashfully leaned down to pick it up. I'm sure average-sized boy was just in it for the view but none the less, the twit picked up Morgan's pencil, flashed her a row of pearly whites, and returned said stationary to her desk.

Average-boy immediately sat down beside her, and chatted her up. Then, gradually, the jocks, Abercrombie-zombies, and finally the uber-rich kids joined in the general brainless chatter. I, and a few others were blissfully, I say, left out from the budding conversation.

That's basically how class went for the most part. The teachers think that since we're in a prep school, we're basically a shoe-in for any collage of our choosing.

Besides, most of us can just pay our way in, anyway.

I noticed, though, when average-sized boy bent in his seat, most likely doubled in laughter from some supposed witty remark I could see the line of his spine though his blatantly branded tee. I couldn't help but follow that spine-line to the bump at the bottom of his alabaster neck.

Unwillingly, my hand reached for my charcoal, and drawing pad, and somehow, caressed his spine-line and thin tee onto paper. I meant to stop right there, but average-sized boy was a great model. His body language was great, and even I, a judgmental bitch, could see that.

Even though I wished he would cut his hair.

His hair looked like rat's hair, and it made him look like a girl.

Why was I even paying so much damn attention to a guy that just got here twenty minutes ago?! Actually, I wasn't the only one. Practically everybody in the room was staring at this guy with the silent energy, and the charisma to win over any girl's heart.

Once again, excluding me.

Because I, for one was not some easily bought piece of meat.

I have a mind! And I can do what ever I want.

Not to sound arrogant or anything, but half the school population is scared shitless of me anyway. So why should I even bother to pretend to be nice?

I felt a nudge on my arm, to my left was one of my best friends, Ian. Ian Dowwel wasn't nearly as radical as I was, but nonetheless, his overtly easygoing attitude made him popular with everybody. Besides, I have to admit, the boy has got rather pretty eyes. Ian grinned mischievously, before he snatched my drawing pad and got a blatantly sadistic look on his cherub like features. I'd have killed him, had I not been quite so frightened for my life. "Ooooh" he crooned, "Gracie's got a crush on the new hottie! Though, I can't say I blame you, he's got a tight ass…"

Did I forget to mention that Ian is bi?

The brunette preceded everybody in the school in the 'coming out of closet" factor, and had boldly stated it in front of the entire school populace. He was running for student council president, and had screamed it at the end of his speech The hall had been dead silent for almost a minute, before a loud chorus of "We know that!" had echoed from the audience.

It was a memorable time. Until of course, people had started calling me an undie-sniffing lezbo.

Personally, I don't give a shit about "sexual orientation" but seriously…sniffing other girl's underwear? That's a bit much.

I'm more of a bra-feeler-upper.

Yeah, I'm bi, too.

Maybe that's why Ian and I are such good friends. We're attracted to the same things, yet not each other.


Average-sized boy was staring. Why the hell was he looking up at Ian and me?

Erm…did I have something on my face? Did he notice I was drawing him? Whoa…was he staring at Ian?

I looked around at the tall brunette, but Ian was too busy fluttering his long, thick, and perfect lashes at Jordan.

I figured I should give 'em a room, or something.

So, slowly, carefully, I slid from my seat, and snuck to the dingy corner of the classroom. You know, give the two some room, yet still have a perfect viewing area. By the first few seconds, it looked like this staring contest wasn't going to end any time soon. I was afraid Ian would need eye-drops.

By the end of the day, when Ian and I take his limo back home, the boy was practically skipping, "I swear, Gracie-wacie!" His nickname for me "It was a cosmic moment."

I could only smile tightly, and nod.


I mean, I didn't trust this Average-sized kid. I didn't trust him one little bit. What if Ian was all cosmic-momenting, and this Steely character was contacting the mother ship?

I am fully into the whole, 'we are not alone' mentality, but, seriously this was a friggin' prep high school.

How many more aliens did we need?

As the aforementioned brunette's sleek limo glided along the street, another pearly white limo cruised along side us.

Well, you know how curiosity killed the cat?

I was the cat.

I stupidly rolled down my window to look at the shiny wiener-shaped vehicle, to only choke on air as this weird old guy rolled down his window to leer at me.

He also did some lewd tongue-gestures while he was at it.

But that was all before he pulled out a rifle.

A/N I shall let you stew like the sadist I am, if you do not review.

In other words: REVIEW!!!!!!! ahem…..please?