"Watch where you're going, you stupid emo bitch!" Kayla hisses. Another classic Kayla move. How will I ever recover from such a malicious insult? Seriously, take the knife out of my heart.


"Very mature Kayla." I just roll my eyes. She isn't worth the stress.

"Is that the best comeback you've got? Wow, you really are stupid," She laughs maniacally. I spin around, dropping my price tagger.

"Are you seriously calling me stupid? Who flunked their re-test? TWICE?" I step closer to her, raising my eyebrows. She pushes my stack of cd's that I had just finished organizing to the ground.

"You really should be more careful, I wouldn't want you to get fired," She glares, her clones laughing along with her. "You better watch yourself klutz," She spits through clenched teeth.

"Whatever Kayla." I roll my eyes, turning back to the large pile of cd's that were now scattered across the floor.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" She puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows expectantly.


"Knocking into me, duh. Unless you'd like me to speak to your manager," She narrowed her eyes. Fine.

"You're right. I'm sorry Kayla-" A wicked smile flashes across her face."-that your FAT ASS got in the way," I reply with mock remorse. I stand up so we are now at the same level. Her mouth drops, and for a moment she actually looks hurt. Good. She quickly catches herself and scoffs.

"Whatever." She huffs and turns around, her pack of creepy stalker-clones trailing close behind.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Kayla Sinclair. She's your typical stuck up, rich, popular girl. Her "daddy" owns some big shot Law firm, and her mom is a super model. Both are strikingly gorgeous, so, it only makes sense that Kayla would be the same. What with her silky blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect body, expensive clothing, perfect house, and perfect boyfriend, every girl wants to be her, and every guy wants to be with her. It's disturbing, really. People would do just about anything to be friends with her, to taste just a smidgen of her life. Her little groupies follow her around like a puppy. They dress like her, look like her, talk like her, act like her, even eat like her. Which of course means that they don't eat at all.

I however, choose to be an individual. I don't follow trends, because there is really no point. By the time you catch up to a trend, a new one has already started. I am not emo. I am not scene. I am not punk. I am not gothic, or any other stereotype people seem to come up with. I can't be labeled, because I'm a little bit of everything. I'm me.

The most common label that people give me is "emo", which really pisses me off because they don't even know what the term means. It is beyond their mental capacity to understand anything outside their shallow little world. Just because I have a couple pairs of chuck Taylors and skinny jeans I'm labeled as "emo".

I see the world the way it really is. Your teachers and parents always encourage "individuality" and "being the best you can be". Unfortunately society is so wrapped up in what's cool, that people forget who they are. What happened to free expression?

"When are the gates of hell going to open and swallow that bitch?" A familiar voice laughs in my ear. Aiden, my best friend.

"Not soon enough." I felt a smile creep onto my face. Aiden has always been there for me. Through the best and the worst, I can always count on him. He's probably the main reason I haven't ran away or killed myself. He keeps me sane. Well, to an extent anyway.

"You sure told her off though, I almost pissed myself laughing. Did you see the look on her face? Oh man, that was awesome," He knelt down and began helping me sort through the cd's.

Aiden and I have been best friends since grade two. I felt myself slip away into the memory.


"That's a cute teddy bear. Can I see it?" Tommy's grubby hand reached out and grabbed it from me. He laughed and threw it up into the air.

"Give it back!" I yelled.

"Why? You're too old for teddy bears! Don't be a baby," He laughed. His stupid Third grade friends joining in. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Awee, Wook at dat. Wittle baby's gonna cry!" He mocked in a baby's voice, shaking the teddy in front of my face. "What are you going to do about, huh squirt?" He tossed my teddy to the ground and stomped on it.

"She said give it back!" A voice boomed from behind me. I turned around to see Aiden, the new kid. I had never heard him talk before, he was always so shy. He was extremely tall for his age, and already towered over Tommy and his friends.

"W-what are you going to do about it? You're just a second grader!" Tommy tried to sound tough, but I could hear the fear in his voice. Aiden stepped closer to him, and jabbed his finger in Tommy's chest.

"Give. It. Back." His voice sounded dangerous, even for a child.

"Why? She doesn't need it. She should grow up and stop being such a baby! "

"Because. The only person that's allowed to make fun of her is me," He put his arm around me protectively. I couldn't believe how tall he was. Suddenly Tommy's expression went from anger to straight fear, and he took a couple steps back. He turned and ran, his friends following him.


We've been friends ever since. My first boyfriend cheated on me, and once Aiden found out he kicked his ass. I couldn't live without him; it's as simple as that. He's bailed me countless times, and he's always there when I can't go home.

"Don't look now, your favorite person in the world just walked in," Aiden twists his face in disgust and nods toward the door. 3 guys, all in polo's and jeans walk through the door. All of them look like they walked straight out of an Abercrombie catalogue. One of them though, stood out the most.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would now like to present Tyler Harrison. He's practically king of Macdonald High, and, no surprise, dating Kayla Sinclair. His hair is dark brown; from a quick glance you would think it's black. It's sort of short and falls over his eyes in a preppy way. His skin is absolutely flawless; it almost looks airbrushed without a blemish in sight. His lips are full, but fit his face perfectly. He's tall, probably as tall, if not taller than Aiden. His green polo fits his shoulders and chest snugly, clearly defining every muscle in his well-toned chest. His jeans are dark but faded slightly in the thigh, and he's wearing a pair of lacoste shoes. I couldn't see them before, but now he's looking straight at me, his eyes clear and vivid. His eyes are green, so bright and deep I have never seen anything like them in my life. It sort of startles me to see him looking at me, his eyes staring so intently into my own. I have to remind myself to breath, and who this guy is.

"How many polo's do you think he owns?" Aiden laughs quietly so only I can hear. I manage a small laugh, hoping he won't notice my flushed cheeks. I pull my eyes away from his face.

He's stunningly good looking in that sort of boyish way.

Yes, he's a prep, plays football, and been around the block and back when it comes to girls. I hate him, but that doesn't mean I can't think he's attractive, right? I mean, you'd have to be blind not to see that he's attractive.

He catches me looking, and the side of his mouth turns up into this cocky half smile. Ugh, right. I hate him.

"I've got to price tag the new shipment of Call of Duty games, come with me?" I ask Aiden, looking for any excuse to get out of here.

"Sure, why not. I've got nothing better to do," He shrugs. I sneak a look at Ty. He's watching me, not even bothering to pretend he's not. His eyes glance over me slowly. I roll my eyes and walk away.

"You call that price tagging? Wow. Fail," I laugh at Aiden's ridiculous attempt to price tag video games.

"What? What did I do wrong?"

"Well, for one thing, you aren't supposed to cover up the title, dipshit. It's supposed to be on the top right corner," I take my tagger back from his grasp. He pouts and looks around. He grabs a free tagger of the shelf behind him.

"Sorry, I must have missed that part. I lost my "Price Tagging for Professionals" hand book," He mocks, pulling a hilarious face that sends me into a laughing fit. He twirls his gun around in his hand like a cowboy. He even pretends to shoot and blows off the tip of it, which just makes me laugh harder.

I'm practically clutching my sides from laughing so hard. To a by stander, we probably look like a couple of druggies, playing with price taggers and laughing like idiots. It's just so incredibly easy with Aiden; I don't have to pretend to be anything but myself. He can make me laugh at just about anything. He jumps over the stack of boxes in the middle of the aisle, running towards me. He slaps a price tag on my face. I laugh and put one on his cheek. It turns into a full-blown battle of the price tags, and soon we are both covered in stickers that say "$39.00"

Aiden's face is scarlet red, and he's lying on the floor propped up against boxes full of un-opened, un-priced Call of Duty 4s. I'm lying half on him, half on the floor, holding my sides because I'm laughing so hard.

"You are such a tool Aiden," I gasp in between laughs.

"That makes two of us, babe," He slings an arm around me. He's about 6'2. Compared to me, a measly 5'6, which for 17 is not tall by any means, he's a giant. He doesn't look strong, but he's probably one of the toughest guys I know, he doesn't take shit from anyone. He is completely gorgeous; if he weren't gay he could get any girl he wanted. Actually, he still probably could. His hair is naturally dark and long, in an attempt to infuriate his father, who insists he cut it. His eyes are pale, almost ice colored, but they're so full of warmth at the same time. He's got two piercings like snake bites on his bottom lip.

I push the boxes aside and stand up, brushing off my jeans.

"When's your break?" Aiden asks, also getting up.

"I can take it now. The store's pretty much dead anyway," I look around at the nearly empty "HMV". There are a few people in the video games section, but that's pretty much it.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes. And I'm going to kick your ass," I crack my fingers for dramatic effect.


"You're a tank Addison, you know that right?" Aiden tosses the guitar hero guitar to the floor.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I smirk.

"I don't know anyone who can play like you, especially for a girl,"

"Maybe you just play like a pussy," I snicker. He laughs and throws his hands up in defeat.

"I gotta get back to work. See you later,"

"What? We just started playing! Come on, one more song!"

"I think 6 victories are enough for one day. I need time to re-gain my pride. Call me tonight, okay?" He waves and walks away, leaving me standing there.

"You should have seen the way he was looking at her at work yesterday," Aiden laughs.

"Ugh, shut up," I take a bite of the cafeteria's sad excuse of potato salad.

"I'm just saying, dating a guy like him might be a nice break for you," He shrugs.

"Let's take a little trip down memory lane, shall we? First, there was that ass in the eighth grade, but he was four years older than you. What was his name? Oh right, Chris, the druggie with those tattoos you loved. Then there was Ben, the bipolar guy with a motorcycle. Then Chance the Satan worshiper, and then last, Jace the rock star player. Notice a pattern? You are attracted to trouble Addison,"

"And you think he won't be trouble? Could you be more dense Aiden? You of all people know what he's like," I snap at him. Aiden used to hang out with Ty for a little while back in junior high, then realized what complete idiots they are, and came to his senses.

"She's right, football boys are idiots. You could do so much better Addy," Bailey, my other friend sips her soda. Bailey and her boyfriend, Cade (His full name is Cadence, which he hates because he says it's a girl's name) have been dating since the eighth grade. Bailey is really tiny, only about 5'3, but everyone knows not to make her mad. Cade is completely opposite, he's really tall; Bailey only comes up to nearly the top of his stomach. It's quite cute actually.

"Don't date a guy like him Addy, they only have one thing on their mind," Cade replies.

As if on cue, the football team walks in to the cafeteria, claiming their usual table. Actually, it's more like 4 tables.

Let's see. There's Ty then there's Jake, Ty's best friend even though everyone knows he's "secretly" cheating on Ty's girlfriend, Kayla. Well, everyone knows except Ty. There's Brock, Dylan, Eric, Andrew, and Josh, more brainless football players.

As for girls, many of them are like Kayla. There's Brittany, with her platinum blonde hair and limo-driver. There's Marissa, with her long dark professionally straightened hair and famous father. Kayla, Brittany, and Marissa are all "BFF's". As for Kayla's clones, there's Cassandra, Carla, and Tianna, who all try desperately hard to look like Kayla.

It's not exactly like you see in the movies, with the one popular group that rules the entire school, and everyone else is considered a social outcast. Sure, there are the typical popular jocks and slutty girls who are at the top, mostly because they have money and expensive clothes, but there's other cliques as well. Unfortunately, a lot of people are afraid of the "popular" kids. The popular people get to do whatever they want just because they're popular. Everyone is pretty much afraid of them, and would do just about anything to be accepted.

Except me and my friends of course, we don't take any of their shit. But they still do it. Control people. It's crazy. I have never seen a jock talking to a geek for anything other than homework answers. The cliqueiness is nauseating.

"Ohmigod, did you hear?," I over hear Marissa say during 4th period math class.

"What?" Tianna asks.

"Ty found out about Jake and Kayla and dumped her! He got in this huge fight with Jake, and might get suspended!" Marissa tries to keep her voice quiet, but I'm sure almost everyone in the class can hear them. I usually try to drone their voices out, but today they are sadly more entertaining than Mr. Falconie's monotone voice.

"Ohmigod! I knew it would happen sooner or later, practically the whole school knew. Kayla's such a slut, why would she cheat on Ty? He's absolutely gorgeous and an amaaazing kisser," Tianna giggles.

I can't help but roll my eyes. Shit.

"Is there a problem Miss. Harper?" Mr. Falconie interrogates. He's looking at me expectantly, his eyebrows rose as if saying "I am not amused," I could politely apologize, but sadly this might be the high-light of my day. Mind as well make the most of it.

"Yes, actually," I snap. He looks taken aback.

"Oh? And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"My problem, is that this is boring as hell, and I highly doubt that the ability to reciprocate a negative monomial will EVER be needed in our lives,"

"Well," he huffs. "If that's how you feel, then I'm sure you'd find it more entertaining in the-"

"Yeah Yeah, I know. Principal's office," I cut him off, grab my books, and head out the door.

This is not an unnatural occurrence. In fact, it happens quite a lot. My attitude towards school is clearly not a positive one. I think it's pointless really, I mean sure, we need to learn basic skills, like language, and basic math like adding and subtracting. But come on. Reciprocating monomials? Circumference? Isn't that what calculators are for? I am so over school. I can't wait until I graduate. Only a few more months.

Inside the office, I see none other than Ty himself slumped in a chair in the corner. He looks up at me briefly, and he looks sad, a dark bruise forming under his right eye. I almost feel sorry for him.

"Yes, Miss. Harper?" The secretary, Mrs. Hulbert asks. Her tone practically screams, "You again?"

"I have a date with the principal," I twirl my pencil around my fingers.

"She's in a meeting right now. You'll have to wait," She doesn't even look up at me. She just types away onto her keyboard. I examine her. She's old, probably about 65, with wrinkles in her face that are so deep you'd think they had been surgically inserted. Her hair is light grey, almost silver, and is always in a neat bun. A typical outfit for her is a long outdated skirt and tacky wool sweater.

I slump into the chair across from Ty.

"I really don't want to suspend you Addison, but this has got to stop," Mrs. Greene, the principal says softly. Her eyes search me, as if she's trying to figure me out. She waits for me to respond, and when I don't she says, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to suspend you," She leans back in her chair.

"For how long?" I ask.

"Two days," She pulls out a sheet of paper and scribbles something on it. "Please give this to your mother," She hands it to me. Hah, yeah right. It's going right through the shredder when I get home.

I don't say anything. I don't even care; I've gotten suspended before for way longer than two days. In all honesty, I'd rather be suspended than here.

"I hope you will think about your actions, Miss. Harper. I don't want to see you in my office again," She says firmly. I crumple the piece of paper and shove it in my pocket. "I'll see you back here on Thursday. Don't forget to sign out at the office,"

I scribble my name down on the sign out list and walk out the door, feeling Ty's eyes follow me out.

Since I don't have a car, and I just missed the bus, I decide to walk the 15 blocks back to my house. I toss the note from the principal lazily into a nearby garbage can. It bounces off the rim and falls to the ground. I don't bother picking it up.

I stop in front of my boring, small house. The yellow paint on the outside has faded and is peeling in some spots, there are shingles missing off the roof, the lawn hasn't been cut in a while, and the blinds that hang in the front window are crooked.

I unlock the door and find myself alone, once again.

All comments/questions/ suggestions are welcome, I love getting reviews, no matter what they say. I love feedback, it helps motivate me. I will personally reply to all reviews and feature them in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

-Rain : )